Interrogation

[brother2dragons]

Who| Dan and Eva ; Eddie and Eva
What| Eva has earned herself an interrogation after the post she made.
Where| Undisclosed location in the Capitol
When| Right after the assassination attempt
Warnings/Notes| Dan's thread is pretty tame, but then Eddie comes in. That thread has just begun, but there is likely going to be some pretty violent stuff in that one. Will add more warnings as needed.

Eva had been escorted into a vehicle shortly after the events at the Tower had settled down. There had been no windows to help her know where she was going. When the doors were opened for her she was in an underground complex with still not discernible landmark to help her.

The uniformed men took her to the interrogation room. It was a metal room with shiny walls that had hooks attached which could easily be used to lock someone into a standing position. The space was wide open but dark around the edges. There were marks on the ground from where heavy machinery had been dragged in and out.

For now, the room only had two chairs and a table, but it was clear that could easily be changed. To someone who was observant, this room was the ghost of a torture chamber. The marks on the floors and the hooks on the walls hadn't been removed on purpose, all to hint towards something more sinister that could easily be brought out to aid with an uncooperative target.

The idea made Dan a little uncomfortable, but he didn't seem like it at all when he came into the room with a small recording device.

"Hello Eva," he said as he moved to sit in one of the chairs. Like all Capitol citizens, he didn't seem to think it odd at all to call this woman by her first name. She was a Victor after all, and Victors belonged to the Capitol.

Comments

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"You in a rush to get out of here?"

No questions, but it's always better if they're a little anxious before the fists start flying.

[vissernone]

Eva props her head on her hand. "Well, I haven't been allowed to use the restroom yet."

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"If you wanna piss in your pants, I'm okay with that," he drawls, tapping some ash from the end of his cigar onto the table.

[vissernone]

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather we just get on with it."

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"Yeah, I'm sure you would, doll. But this ain't about you."

[vissernone]

"And what's it about? I'm sure you could be home watching pornography right now instead of giving me the silent treatment."

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You're smart enough to know that nothin' here is ever about just one person."

[vissernone]

"So this is about you."

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"I count one of me."

He grins and stubs out his cigar on the table in front of her. "But you're right. This is gettin' kinda boring."

[vissernone]

"About both of us, I meant." She folds her arms and leans back.

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

He smirks, walking around the table to perch on it next to her. "Well, I know I'm gonna have a good time at least."

[vissernone]

There's the slightest flinch, barely visible, as some memory of Sponsors crosses her mind. But it's gone even more quickly than it comes on. "I doubt I'll enjoy it quite as much."

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

He catches the flinch and grins. "That's all right. It's better when they scream."

His arm sweeps across to backhand her, hard enough to knock her from the chair.

[vissernone]

And down she goes, catching herself from splitting her face on the table edge with her hand. She lets herself drop to the ground without a whimper. She's retreating to the place inside her head she always goes, where they can't touch her. Bruises are only flesh, and she's going to hide inside her own marrow, armored by bone.

"About time," she says, pulling the clip from her hair and tossing it aside. No need to have that adding to the damage. She stays on the floor.

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he says with a chuckle, aiming a kick to her midsection before reaching for her hair to pull her up by it.

[vissernone]

She doesn't fight. She knows that he'll try to break her harder if she fights. He'll punish her for not being fun, now, but this is the easier option. She lets herself be pulled up and closes her eyes.

Same as always. Let them do what they want to you and think of District 9.

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

Eddie is big on the hands on aspect. He doesn't like to use tools. It's why she doesn't get any cattle prods or anything of that nature. And his guns are out of the question here. They don't want her hurt quite that bad.

Still, sometimes a tool helps.

He flips the chair back upright with a foot and drops her into it again, reaching into his pocket to pull out a short but sharp knife.

[vissernone]

"Agh!" The sound, part out of surprise rather than pain, seems to just work its way out of her. She sits in the chair and the glint of the knife catches her eye. She stares at it, transfixed, vacant.

This is happening to someone else, she tells herself. They're going to pare the skin off the Capitol slave, not off of Eva Salazar.

She doesn't meet Eddie's eyes, and she turns her head so she isn't looking at the blade when it moves towards her.

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

That's better, of course, but the looking away is not gonna work for him. One hand in her hair, he jerks her head back around. "Come on, sweetheart. I'm gonna start thinkin' you don't like me very much."

He starts slow--it's better if it's slow--and just drags the blade down her cheek, a shallow cut but long, easily healed. Nothing like the scar that draws Eddie's own mouth up into a perpetual sneer.

Not yet.

[vissernone]

"Congratulations on your observation skills," she say dully.

She keeps her eyes on that scar. She has a similar one on her own upper lip, smaller, the one she refused to lose from the Arena. But this is different; this won't be one she chooses to keep. There will be no pride in this one.

She glares at him and grits her teeth.

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"One of my strengths, they say," Eddie remarks, clearly pleased by her reaction. The gritting teeth, the glare. That's what he was looking for.


He keeps a hand in her hair to force her to face him as he digs the tip of his knife into the corner of her scar and slices upward.

[vissernone]

There are nerves there, and she flinches. Her fists, which she refuses to suicidally use to defend herself, clench. Blood drips down into her mouth, down her chin.

She screws her eyes shut.

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

"Open them, or I'll staple them open," he says mildly, setting down his knife to pick up his cigar again. Calmly, taking his time but never loosening his grip on her hair, he relights the cigar and takes a long drag.

[vissernone]

A drop of blood and saliva drips from her chin. She imagines spitting at him. She imagines it so hard she doesn't feel as guilty as she should when obeys his order to open her eyes with perfect obedience.

[no_spelled_y_e_s]

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he blows another cloud of smoke in hers.

"See, that's so much better, isn't it?" he says conversationally, puffing on his cigar. "Makes me feel like I'm not alone in this."

He puffs a little more, until the tip of his cigar is red, and then he puts it out on her forearm.