Animae in Nebula
From the shadows behind her peripheral vision, the interrogator nodded minutely to Devony, though she did not move immediately. She waited. Long seconds drew out in silence as the traitorous woman hung on the rack, vision blurred beyond recognition by the red-rimmed pain of having the duct tape ripped from her eyes.
Methodically she stepped from the shadow, each footfall lifting and landing with deceptive softness like heavy beads of water counting out…
...one...
...two...
...three...
...four...
...overweight drops forced through a crack in the wall by withheld torrential pressure behind; the next beginning to build already. Imminently the steps approached through the peripheral vision of the prisoner, nothing more than a shapeless smudge moving indistinguishably.
She could feel sore eyes, bare of eyelashes, attempting to observe her sidelong. There was a swift clink-flick of a zippo followed by the fast sizzling of a fuse over the arc of a toss…
“I saw one of these lit under a coffee can once.” Said the Brujah reflectively.
…the red tube landed with a painfully loud report as it detonated like a sledge hammer colliding into a wall of sheet metal causing the half-blind prisoner to recoil suddenly, her restraints bruising her wrists and waist more deeply.
“It flattened the can, blowing it over the roof of the building.”
Stepping into the other woman's muddled line of sight, she held up a familiar, silver roll and ripped out a length; paused - then continued speaking casually. "That was the sound of three grams of mixed potassium perchlorate and aluminum powder" she informed her captive patiently, "only approximately one-tenth of a quarter stick of dynamite."
Starting with the woman's right hand, she lifted a finger, carefully taping on a cynlinder snuggly so that it couldn't be shaken off. "For less than seventy-five dollars, I can make more than three-hundred of those." Next she taped a thumb-sized tube to her ring finger and then her middle finger.
"In life, you're never so haunted by the things that you do as you are by the things that you don't do." She finished binding the cold, fleshy digits. "Sitting in fearful inaction when your words could save the wrongfully condemned. Never finding the courage to face danger with your commrades and instead selling out their lives for your security..." she paused heavily, "Never going back to kiss your lover one last time...."
With a thin round of electrical tape she began un-spooling a thick, dark string. "This is slow burn fuse. It allows time for last minute prep before igniting an explosive compound. In this case, about three and a half minutes of length," she paused, holding up the end and studying it. "Of course, this isn't an exact science - three minutes is being secured to each of your fingers."
Pinned by u-bolts, the woman worked admirably at maintaining her stoic composure, only undermined like a hairline fracture by her attempts to surreptitiously survey her own hands.
Continuing on with her rote explanation, Devony moved through her task one by one. "I will randomly light one of these each time you are asked to provide something and you will have a choice: cooperation means I will extinguish them before they detonate. Refusal...well that means you allow it to detonate on your hand, choosing to have a bloody stump where your slender fore-finger, thumb or maybe where your precious ring-finger used to be."
There was a nervous shift from the strung-up turncoat and she straightened, having tied off the last fuse. Standing inches away from her captive’s face, the click-flint sounded again, followed by a flash-sizzle-bang.
The woman cried out with the sudden shock of pain and tried desperately to crane her collared neck to see the remnants of her pinky. The Brujah's voice was dead-pan, "Just to ensure that you take your situation seriously." She said as her boots retreated several steps.
Once more the lighter flicked open and leaning down, Devony touched the flame to the end of the black fuse, watching as it sputtered to life and began to burn steadily toward the rack, letting only the sound of the fizzle fill the silent air between them for a moment.
"Now, tell me about the ghosts that haunt you."
Methodically she stepped from the shadow, each footfall lifting and landing with deceptive softness like heavy beads of water counting out…
...one...
...two...
...three...
...four...
...overweight drops forced through a crack in the wall by withheld torrential pressure behind; the next beginning to build already. Imminently the steps approached through the peripheral vision of the prisoner, nothing more than a shapeless smudge moving indistinguishably.
She could feel sore eyes, bare of eyelashes, attempting to observe her sidelong. There was a swift clink-flick of a zippo followed by the fast sizzling of a fuse over the arc of a toss…
“I saw one of these lit under a coffee can once.” Said the Brujah reflectively.
…the red tube landed with a painfully loud report as it detonated like a sledge hammer colliding into a wall of sheet metal causing the half-blind prisoner to recoil suddenly, her restraints bruising her wrists and waist more deeply.
“It flattened the can, blowing it over the roof of the building.”
Stepping into the other woman's muddled line of sight, she held up a familiar, silver roll and ripped out a length; paused - then continued speaking casually. "That was the sound of three grams of mixed potassium perchlorate and aluminum powder" she informed her captive patiently, "only approximately one-tenth of a quarter stick of dynamite."
Starting with the woman's right hand, she lifted a finger, carefully taping on a cynlinder snuggly so that it couldn't be shaken off. "For less than seventy-five dollars, I can make more than three-hundred of those." Next she taped a thumb-sized tube to her ring finger and then her middle finger.
"In life, you're never so haunted by the things that you do as you are by the things that you don't do." She finished binding the cold, fleshy digits. "Sitting in fearful inaction when your words could save the wrongfully condemned. Never finding the courage to face danger with your commrades and instead selling out their lives for your security..." she paused heavily, "Never going back to kiss your lover one last time...."
With a thin round of electrical tape she began un-spooling a thick, dark string. "This is slow burn fuse. It allows time for last minute prep before igniting an explosive compound. In this case, about three and a half minutes of length," she paused, holding up the end and studying it. "Of course, this isn't an exact science - three minutes is being secured to each of your fingers."
Pinned by u-bolts, the woman worked admirably at maintaining her stoic composure, only undermined like a hairline fracture by her attempts to surreptitiously survey her own hands.
Continuing on with her rote explanation, Devony moved through her task one by one. "I will randomly light one of these each time you are asked to provide something and you will have a choice: cooperation means I will extinguish them before they detonate. Refusal...well that means you allow it to detonate on your hand, choosing to have a bloody stump where your slender fore-finger, thumb or maybe where your precious ring-finger used to be."
There was a nervous shift from the strung-up turncoat and she straightened, having tied off the last fuse. Standing inches away from her captive’s face, the click-flint sounded again, followed by a flash-sizzle-bang.
The woman cried out with the sudden shock of pain and tried desperately to crane her collared neck to see the remnants of her pinky. The Brujah's voice was dead-pan, "Just to ensure that you take your situation seriously." She said as her boots retreated several steps.
Once more the lighter flicked open and leaning down, Devony touched the flame to the end of the black fuse, watching as it sputtered to life and began to burn steadily toward the rack, letting only the sound of the fizzle fill the silent air between them for a moment.
"Now, tell me about the ghosts that haunt you."