Suspects' Holding Cell

[etcircenses]

The vans drive for what seems like an hour before they come to a stop, and Peacekeepers blindfold and forcefully drag even the most cooperative suspects into a building.

The suspects are all held in one cell, a large, metal room with a thick door and a single ledge that serves as a bench. Bright fluorescent lights beam from overhead. There are no windows and no clocks, no sign of where they might be.

The Peacekeepers take off the blindfolds, though without much care for whether they come off all the way or chafe or stay slung around the suspects' necks. The suspects' hands are left cuffed behind their backs, and even the most ingenious of them won't be able to pick the lock on their restraints, but they're otherwise left to roam freely through the space.

Suspects are removed, one at a time, at unpredictable intervals, by Peacekeepers armed with tasers. Some take three hours to return, while others are back within only a minute. Each of them comes back having been clearly roughed up and pressed for information that they may or may not hold; some are bleeding or sporting the beginnings of black eyes.

They'll be sleeping here tonight.

Comments

[carsassian]

The ridges that stood in place of eyebrows on Garak's grey scaled face lifted ever so slightly as he listened to Nasir's miniature tirade. There was always something about passion to amuse him, even when the passion was, well, ill-advised and incredibly misplaced. He sucked in a breath of chilly, dank air, silently bemoaning his condition. Hell wasn't an instant of unfathomable pain, it was being made to endure small amounts of discomfort over an extended period of time.

"Well, if that's the case --and I'm willing to accept for a moment that it might actually be for you-- you should know just how we're expected to behave here. This ends with us dead or silenced and disgraced to the point that we can no longer even pretend to have a voice or any right to anything." His neck ridges flexed almost imperceptibly. It was cold, it was dark, but although he could see everything in the cell clearly, the anxiety of the enclosed space was getting to him. And Nasir's insistence on keeping their conversation on topic probably wasn't helping either.

"And no," he sighed heavily, attempting to match Nasir's drama with farce. "I suppose that when you get down to it, I'm nothing but a tailor who happened to find himself in the middle of a war zone. Before that I worked as a gardener, you know. Romulus was a bore on every conceivable level, but I should have stayed there a few more years. I'd built up quite a reputation for myself by the end of my stay."

[calledmenasir]

Garak didn't understand. But then, few people recognized their lot here, or else were too ready to accept it. Nasir remembered when he was like that and so he pitied Garak but the expression on his face was one of disgust. Pity didn't mean he couldn't hold another opinion of them.

Nasir was ready to end the conversation and proceed to ignore the thing-- man-- entirely. He was actually in the process of turning away when Garak mentioned something that caught his attention and his eyes darted back to the man and remained fixed on him.

"Romulus?" His voice was a mix of surprise and suspicion. "The place that bears his name is called Rome, not the name of the man himself."

[carsassian]

"Rome is a Terran City, Romulus is the homeworld of the Romulan people." His voice held only a mild irritation, though it was still less directed at Nasir than at the conditions of their situation. It was taking an undue amount of concentration for Garak to keep from shaking. Between the humid chill in the cell and the sensation of being enclosed, he wasn't doing well.

His eyes darted up and down from the concrete floor to the nasty expression on his fellow suspect's face. In spite of everything, there was something distantly comforting about being able to so quickly earn the ire of another person. Aggravation, like good lies, were a skill. He leveled Nasir with an expression somewhere near condescension and genuine patience. If the topic itself wouldn't provide a distraction, perhaps the tone of the conversation could serve just as well. "It's grey, and they're a grey people. There isn't another word for it in your language, I don't think."

[calledmenasir]

"The word 'Terran' falls from lips yet meaning falls short." But the use of the word 'homeworld' called to mind a different meaning here. Another planet, absurd as the explanation to him was. His expression turned from irritated to neutral and now to curious. "You are not of Earth? Terran is the word you would call us?"

The guess explained much: including Garak's monstrous appearance. He was not cursed or a creature from the underworld but a man not unlike him. Well, Nasir recalled the sentiments Garak had expressed, he was unlike him.