onepassingnight | Report IV: Fountain Pen

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Report IV: Fountain Pen

Interrogations were rarely something pleasant to have to go through, ones with the Turks were usually terrifying and one that needed Tseng's personal attention rarely ended with laughter and a cup of coffee. Hopefully this one wouldn't end with maintenance having to patch a bullet hole in a wall again.

There wasn't much in the thin file he held as he watched the person through a mirrored window. So little, in fact, that it bothered him. No matter, there was certainly enough to start off with. He nodded, shooting a glance at the person beside him before entering the room.

Hopefully this wouldn't take more than a few hours, he really didn't want to be in the office until the sun came back up.

[[OOC: Open to whichever you want to tag in as! Good cop bad cop (...or bad cop worse cop as it were) or being questioned! ]]

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For a second, it does exactly what it was intended to do. It makes her want to give in right away, for the sake of her sister. But Lethe has learned, over the years and centuries, not to trust.

"Let me see her," she says simply. "Then we'll talk about whatever there is to say."

"Guy can sell shit right? Or is there a new law against makin' a living now?" He snarked, "Or is ShinRa gonna stop that now that they don't have anything left? WRO's a bunch of idiots and people wanna protect themselves, I've just got connections with people who wanna sell 'em."

Charging ridiculous prices to people in need, and that a lot of the weapons were ShinRa issue from the military had raised far too many alarm bells for anyone's liking.

She's unfazed. But behind the bravado, she's heard one thing: He's claiming to be a middle man. If that's true, he could be useful. They need the ones making the weapons disappear from the ShinRa facilities, not the one connecting them with their purchasers.

He's still a link in a chain, she doesn't forget. "People who want to sell them, huh?" Yeah, it'd be a good idea to start talking more about those.

There it is.

The chink in the armor he was casting for.

"Sadly, with the communication lines being what they are that's currently impossible. We take good care of our guests, she's quite comfortable I assure you." He smiled, "All of the snacks and tea she can ever want, and plenty of conversation. I'd hate to have to have one of my associates have to harm her, she's a very sweet young lady."

It's a plausible excuse, but she still knows not to base anything on it. On the other hand, she can't take a chance. If she loses Mnemosyne, if she fails to protect her, then everything she's done for so long is meaningless. Useless.

"I still can't tell you more than I know," she points out.

While Spartans had been trained for the scenarios in which they could become POWs, not only had that only -truly- happened once: Everything they used to hold him right now seemed like an overkill.

Granted, he was a man encased in 7ft 2in of titanium, but the massive binds by which his metallic hands and feet were held on with seemed exaggeratedly efficient. Seems they did not want to risk him escaping. Whenever if what he did out there could be justified to the authorities or not, it holds little weight now.

Right now, a very basic tip comes into his mind. Imagine the walls read SILENCE.

"They got shit they wanna get rid of. Fuck, man." Xanadu shrugged, suddenly defensive.

"People don't just 'get rid of' mastered materia and military issue firearms." Tseng butted in.

"Sure they do! You find shit in Midgar and you sell it."

"That's for me to decide." Tseng replied, "You may know far more than you think."

He flipped open the file, flipping a photograph towards her. "You went right past these signs, what are you after?"

He was on the run. Good. People getting nervous were people likely to make mistakes. With the turn away from anything personal, she keeps her cool and her cold judgment. She becomes more serious and some of the facetious, put-on cheer drops.

"Not in these quantities." Her comment is a reinforcement to Tseng's, a prompting.

But she hadn't. She stared at them blankly, and shook her head.

"I'm not after anything. My goal is to live in peace with my sister. My only quarrel is with people in the way of that." And as far as she knew... that did not include ShinRa.

SOLDIER strength wasn't something to mess with, and logic held that someone with such ridiculously large and likely heavy armor had that sort of strength up their sleeve. It was better to be overly cautious than to find yourself bleeding out.

He slapped the file on the small table, not bothering to sit as he crossed his arms.

"You're a bit of a conundrum, you realize. Nothing in the databases; not on your armor or your weapons. Which means you either work for someone who's not the WRO or ShinRa. Or Scarlet certainly filled her time with more than a few side projects. I'm sure you'd prefer to do this the easy way Mister...?"

He didn't believe her, not at the moment anyway.

"Then why go snooping around a mako reactor?" He asked, "They're not exactly inhabitable."

A mako reactor? Sounded like something nuclear, to her. But she didn't know why she'd been near one any more than he did.

"I wasn't snooping!" she said, finally getting a bit of spirit back in her frustration. But she doubted saying she didn't know how she got there would be believed.

"You know I'm not carrying anything in or out anyway. Why are you holding me here?"

[ .. It's not too difficult to imagine what this place is. Even though the man didn't quite seem familiar to her, exactly that fact was enough to tip her off what this was - a dream, yet another one of those dreams. And with the person sitting there behind most likely a mirrored window, that only narrowed own the answer to the question of what kind of dream exactly this was.

After eyeing the person sitting behind the window for a little bit, she instead glances from the corner of her eye at the man on this side, to Tseng. Ange doesn't speak up yet though, as if she's waiting for him to do so first. ]

"John."

Tradition stated to only mention name, rank, and number. Black Ops only has so many privileges.

His golden eye stays locked on the man for movements and reactions. In spite of his situation, resembling something akin to both a machine registering sentient beings, and a predator waiting for the moment to slip up.

"You think I give a damn where I get it from? ShinRa shit actually works, people'll pay more for it. Better'n the crap they're selling out of the Golden Saucer." Xanadu shrugged.

"We already know about the goods coming out of that area." Tseng sighed, "Who does your running to Midgar?"

Well, it's your case. What do you need out of them?

[Being called to step in on this one wasn't too terrible.]

Fair enough, for the trader; but it wasn't what they needed as Turks. Ami didn't let it go. She was good at being stubborn.

"What you care about doesn't matter right now." It was bland. She waited for the name.

"John." He nodded, making a mental note to look at any missing SOLDIER by that name who could have possibly fit the man's height.

"You're probably quite aware of who I am and what I do, as well as how this will likely proceed if my questions aren't answered. The rumors are nowhere near the truth, I have no problem with simply killing you and letting everything be answered with an autopsy." He'd faced down larger opponents and his distaste for any of the company's machines and their habit of making more of a mess to be cleaned up didn't help the matter. "However, I'm not an unreasonable man and I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement that you walk away from with your life intact."

Information wasn't always physical, and reactor technology was something the company still had a firm grip on.

"As I said, this is all quite obviously a slight confusion that can be cleared up with your cooperation. Now, tell me what you were doing in a reactor?"

Confusion, yes, but far more than slight. However unbelievable, she decided to tell the truth.

"The last thing I remember is being in this room. I don't remember being brought here, or before that."

Wait. Maybe the problem wasn't her.

"Did you drug me?" Her jaw tightened.

"You know what? Fuck you guys! You and your who--" Xanadu's rant was cut short as Tseng slid around the table and dug the muzzle of his gun in to the underside of his chin.

"I highly suggest you reconsider that statement. Answer the questions." There was no emotion in Tseng's tone, heartless professionalism.

"A-a-allright. I-I don't know his name! He just shows up! Red hair, tattoos on his face." Xanadu panicked, eyes darting between the two of them.

Ami's eyes flickered to 'Xanadu', to Tseng, and back again. She let it pass, with the point made - and perhaps a flicker of smugness that Tseng had been quick to handle the situation. It felt... good, to be sheltered, and to watch the brewing tension between two others for her sake. Her lips quirked upward as she watched with interest.

But that wasn't the point they were here for. She pulled herself back from the sensation and to the matter at hand.

Red hair? Tattoos on his face? Just shows up, huh. And come to think of it, that name with an X, wasn't it a common theme where the person she's thinking of had been from? It couldn't be... Axel? On the other hand, it didn't seem the type of business he'd be involved in. Ami said nothing in front of their victim, but she let her eyes meet Tseng's for a second. She'd comment on it later, privately.

"Where do you meet him?" He still has to 'just show up' somewhere.

Edited 2012-03-01 09:47 (UTC)

I'm the one who's supposed to do this without any kind of preparation?

[ There's a slight sigh, and she glances around - welp, maybe this is just some ordinary kind of dream in which she gets embarassed to hell and back, that doesn't sound too impossible either. ]

"No." He replied honestly, "Mako has been known to cause memory loss however, I'm sure it will come back."

It certainly wasn't uncommon, and it very well may not come back.

"There have been cases where people forget their entire lives."

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Report IV: Fountain Pen

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He still dresses like a twit.

the cape is manly, ok? :|

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Prisoner

No. It's not. 8| Neither is the headdress, despite it's Fancy.

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He needs it to look cool.

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8D

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indifferent cop..?!

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No, he really doesn't. :|

this works too!

lies.

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Me? Lie? About someone looking ridiculous?!

dlkjsdls lol tell me that word is not what i think it is XD /guy has death wish?

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