Comments | theskytides: "I wasn't expecting things to get so serious--"

tidesnpc in theskytides

"I wasn't expecting things to get so serious--"

Nov 24, 2009 17:50

Characters: The captured kidnapper + anyone on the Way [OPEN]
Content: Professional and amateur interrogations of the kidnapper Tarzan caught. Come throw things at him, rage at him, try to get information out of him, or just call him a jerk.
Setting: The Way's brig
Time: Over the course of the day after the initial attack
Warnings: Snark, plus ( Read more... )

michael garibaldi, yoshiya "joshua" kiryu

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godofrustration November 25 2009, 00:20:02 UTC

Garibaldi still had not let himself sleep. There was just too much to do, too many repairs to make, too many bodies to count. Logic dictated that he should go at least catch a few hours, now that things were quieter, but he rejected that. He couldn't sleep yet. Not until he'd had a word with the captive.

Several words, actually.

He threw open the door, slamming it behind him. "Hope you're comfortable," he said sarcastically as he looked down at the man.

tidesnpc November 25 2009, 18:42:11 UTC

The man opened his eyes and looked right back up at Garibaldi, nonplussed. "Yes, it's very nice," he replied, matching the sarcasm with false cheeriness. "It's warm, and not even damp at all. Even this ship's prison is ritzy." There was a bitter undertone to the last few words.

godofrustration November 26 2009, 10:12:07 UTC

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while you can, pal. First chance I get, I'm tossing you over the side."

He pulled up a chair, sitting down and leaning forward. "Look, let's cut the small talk. I've had a very long and trying day. Your boss is the one I'd like to take that out on, but she isn't here right now. You, on the other hand, are. So, either you can start spilling any and all bits of information you think I might find interesting about her, or I can start working out my frustrations on your skull. I'm sort of hoping you choose the second one."

tidesnpc November 27 2009, 03:09:36 UTC

The man regarded Garibaldi coolly, slumped casually against the wall. He rested his forearms on his bent knees.

"Well, I aim to please, of course," he replied. "The way I see it, you caught me red-handed stealing children off of your ship, and you'd like nothing more than to toss me over the side already. Whatever you're going to do, you're going to do. What do I have to lose?"

If his interrogator was going to try force, that would mean he'd have to step inside the brig, which would give the captive a fair chance at overpowering Garibaldi and making his escape.

godofrustration November 27 2009, 03:29:32 UTC

Garibaldi smiled. That was almost exactly what he had been hoping to hear. "Fine, if you want to play it that way," he said. "Your choice."

He stopped for a moment, as if something had just occurred to him. He held up a finger for a moment, indicating 'just a moment', and then reached into his jacket's interior pocket. He very pointedly withdrew a small case from inside the jacket, and opened it up to reveal a pair of earplugs. He showed them off to the prisoner, inserting one, and then the other. He returned the case to the pocket, smiling even wider.

Then in a smooth motion, so quick you could blink and miss it, he drew his revolver and shot the prisoner in the leg.

tidesnpc November 27 2009, 03:40:08 UTC

The prisoner blinked as the earplugs were brought out. What the heck was he planning to do with those?

The answer came too quickly for the prisoner even to think of dodging. He screamed, the howl of pain resounding in the fairly confined space, and his hands flew to clutch at his injured limb, as if they could stop the blooming pain by gripping it tightly.

His breath came in sharp gasps as he tried to clear his head. He glared sharply up at Garibaldi, his composure gone as his mouth twisted into a silent snarl of anger and pain.

godofrustration December 2 2009, 01:35:08 UTC

The gunshot was deafening in the confined space. Only his earplugs protected him from ringing ears.

"Not so tough now, eh, pal?" Garibaldi shouted, and then fired again, into the man's other leg. No sense leaving him something to support himself on, in case he still had the guts to try and fight back. "C'mon, let's hear some more of that bravado!"

tidesnpc December 2 2009, 02:25:54 UTC

"Aaaagh!"

The prisoner moved as if to draw the injured legs to him, but it hurt too much. Blood ran over his fingers as he clutched the new injury, curling over his legs like a wounded animal trying to shield itself. The pain was blinding, just as deafening in its own way as the gunshots were. His ears rang, his legs felt like they were on fire, and his head felt like it was going to explode. He couldn't think. His eyes were shut tight, face screwed up in a wild grimace.

"You--bastard--" was all he could hiss out between clenched teeth. He forced one eye open and glared at Garibaldi. The pain made his eyes water, though no tears fell. He tried to tell himself that his shoulders weren't shaking. It didn't work.

godofrustration December 2 2009, 03:38:42 UTC

Garibaldi felt no sympathy for the man. Only a sense of satisfaction at getting somewhere with this man.

"You know, I used to be a cop," he said, ignoring the man's screams. "When you're a cop, there's all sorts of rules about what you can do to someone you're interrogating. Oh, we all bent them a bit, but they were still a pain in the ass."

He pointed the gun at him again, sighting at one of the man's kneecaps. "Sometimes I miss it, but right now? Not at all. Now, if you start talking, I'll get the ship's doctor in here, he'll patch you up, give you some pain killer. I hear they've even got magic healing on this boat. If you don't, I'll put a bullet right through your goddamned kneecap. What's it gonna be?"

tidesnpc December 2 2009, 03:56:06 UTC

A low growl escaped the prisoner. "Not....in a m-million years," he spat. He knew he wasn't going to talk. He couldn't. The idea of telling this man what he wanted to know was hardwired into his brain as an impossibility.

"Go to hell."

One of his hands went to his left shoulder. It wasn't a conscious movement, but his right hand wound gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly. Or was he clutching at something underneath it?

godofrustration December 2 2009, 04:45:56 UTC

Old instincts began screaming warnings at Garibaldi. He hadn't done anything to the man's shoulder (yet), so why was he...

Was he properly frisked? he wondered quickly. He probably wasn't hiding a weapon, but...maybe something else...

He slammed his gun down on the table, whipped out the cell keys, and as quickly as he could, unlocked the cell door. He had a bad feeling about this.

tidesnpc December 2 2009, 05:04:26 UTC

The man scrambled back against the wall as fast as he could, hand dropping from his shoulder. Just moving caused pain, but he wasn't about to sit there and wait for whatever Garibaldi was planning to do.

For a moment, the idea of pulling out the knife he had hidden in his boot flashed across his mind. He might be able to surprise Garibaldi, who had left his gun outside, and --

--and then what? He couldn't walk. He could barely move. What would he do after he killed Garibaldi? Just wait for someone else to come down here and find him passed out from blood loss, with another crew member dead? With the blood on his hands?

But that didn't mean he wouldn't struggle. He shrunk back, glaring daggers at his interrogator, and his hand slipped towards the hidden knife.

godofrustration December 2 2009, 05:42:57 UTC

Garibaldi burst into the cell, grabbed the prisoner violently, and yanked his sleeve up, exposing what was underneath.

"What the hell is this?" he asked.

tidesnpc December 2 2009, 05:58:06 UTC

It was all the prisoner could do to keep from making a choked whine of pain as he was yanked around. He was injured and in excruciating pain, but he didn't want to whimper. He didn't want to give his captor the satisfaction of seeing him weak.

The tattoo Garibaldi exposed glowed a faint, sickly yellow-green, thanks to the tiny mana crystals set into it at intervals. It was in the shape of a crescent moon, with the largest crystal in the center of the design. Said crystal was about the size of the tip of Garibaldi's pinky finger.

The way he was being held, he couldn't reach his knife. Even if he could, he wasn't sure if he could use it. He was starting to get dizzy, and the pain was terrible. He looked up at Garibaldi with his mouth clamped shut and his eyes defiant, even through the haze of agony screaming from the gunshot wounds.

godofrustration December 6 2009, 16:23:36 UTC

"What the hell is this!?" he shouted, shaking the prisoner violently. After a moment, he realized that he wasn't going to get anywhere with this one. If he wasn't talking now, he might never, and in any case he looked like he was about to go into shock. That shit in his arm looked like mana crystals...some sort of magical compulsion, maybe?

Garibaldi hated magic.

He threw the prisoner down into the chair in disgust, and turned to go. He'd need to go get a medic for him. A dead man was useless.

tidesnpc December 7 2009, 16:48:27 UTC

The man slumped, staying where he was thrown. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. "Magic," he hissed, short of breath. "Grita gave us all...." he trailed off.

The pain was dulling his mind. His head spun, and his vision was dimming. He was so close to slipping into painless unconsciousness, so very close....

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