thecapitol | Interrogation

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

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.

"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.

"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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

She coughs and opens her eyes again, bloody mouth set into a determined scowl, even as her eyes fill with tears around the edges.

"Oh, you aren't. This is practically foreplay."

"Practically? I must not be doin' it right, then."

He knows exactly what sorts of things his reputation suggests about him. Most of them are true, after all, and even if he doesn't have those plans for her, it's always good to keep that idea fresh in her mind.

Setting his cigar aside, he picks up the knife again. "Aww, now here I went and left a mark on you," he says, teasing the edge of the blade next to the burn on her arm. "I really oughta take care of that."

Slowly, he starts to slice under the burn, taking his time in cutting the singed flesh off her arm.

"Aa!" Eva can't help the sound that comes out of her mouth. She bites down on her own tongue. The muscles in her forearm flex as she tries to fight the pain.

Eddie grins widely at her reaction, only pulling the knife back once he's sliced the burn off completely. "There. That's so much better. But now it's uneven, isn't it? Can't leave you lopsided, can we?"

He brings the knife to her other arm then, to repeat the process.

A scream works its way out her mouth, not full-volume when it leaves but stripped to a groan. She takes deep breaths to hide the tears.

"How long is this going to take?"

"Well, I like to think I'm pretty thorough with my job," he says calmly, wiping his knife on his thigh. "How long do you think it should take?"

Her fingers twitch. She wants to try and stem the blood from her cuts. She doesn't.

"I don't know. I'm surprised you don't have other people with actual secrets to stab."

"Why? You know of some I should be gettin' to?" Eddie asks with a smirk.

"It's real easy," he adds, sliding the blade of the knife along one side of her collar bone gently before, slicing it up the other. "You want me to stop, all you gotta do is ask nicely."

She considers it. She really does. Pride is not necessarily part of the act. She can be a mewling, weak little hussy in here and no one has to know.

But what she says is "well, I guess we'll be here a while," and drools blood on her shirt.

"I was kinda hopin' you'd say that."

His bosses want this taken care of quickly, but Eddie? Eddie wants to take his time. He hauls her up from her chair by the front of her shirt, and his free hand comes down hard on her face, fist clenched, muscles straining, but the expression on his face is one of casual indifference. He's likely going to break some bones here, but that can be fixed easily. Just about everything he does here can be fixed easily. It's just a question of whether or not it will be.

Eva spits out a tooth.

A whole tooth. Broken at the root. Rolling around in saliva on her tongue.

Tears come to her eyes even though she doesn't want them to.

That's more like it and gratifying in its own way.

His grin widens as he continues to hit her, fist slamming into her face over and over and over. His hand will likely be slightly bruised later--though the leather gloves he wears protect it somewhat--but it's worth it.

Eventually the tears turn to sobs. It doesn't matter that she's too proud to want to. They just roll out of her mouth.

And she doesn't fight back.

When the resistance is gone, it's not nearly as fun for Eddie. He wipes his knuckles on her shirt before letting it go, letting her fall to the ground. There's no use punctuating this message with words, so he doesn't bother. He just picks up his cigar, relights it, and puffs a little to get it going, hardly sparing her a glance as he leaves the room.

Interrogation

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