Post by Niema "BlackDeath" Pyke on Sept 17, 2013 11:40:15 GMT -5
(This is a bit of back story- happened before/up to her being taken to S13)
|| Answers; she had Cross take the man's body down to her Office on the Underside and from there, she took him to her interrogation room. A 10x10 sound proof room with one apparent entry and exit and comfortable lightly, bright enough to see but not to blind. On the walls were racks and racks of tools, some were easy to recognize like the hammer and bone saw but others were as much a mystery as the inner workings of the she-devils mind. One thing was for certain, if you could imagine it there was a tool on the wall to fit your imagination which was part of what made the room so effective in of itself. The man sitting in the dentist-like chair, strapped to it from his head to his ankles, looked very determined not to look around; not to let the room and it's infinite possibly of pain get to him.
The Underboss could be as cruel as she was intelligent, designing the chair he was in on a rotator plate, turning M.I.C. around where he sat, so he could get a full slow few of every wall in the room without needing to turn his head-- not like he could anyway. She left him like that while she changed out of what she'd been wearing and put on her torture suit. Skin-tight black leather pants that hung tauntingly low on her hips and little more than a matching strappy black bra that only just covered the darker peaks of her breasts. In the eyes of most she looked more like a stripper than an interrogator but that was because they weren't really looking. In a way, it was an animalistic gesture like a Cobra flares out in display, Niema was putting her scars on display. A full array of cuts, slashes, punctures, impalement, claws, teeth, wood, glass, metal and fire. Like the tools that made of the decor of those walls there was a scar, faint or well seen, for just about every kind of violence you could think of.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail where it was braided so when she walked back into that room there was no mistake about the business aspect of her visit. Custom armored boots were buckled up over her pants all the way up to her knees, they might have looked heavy to the eye but Niema moved like they weighed nothing at all. Agile and attentive she walked the circle the chair was turning in, watching the man in total silence for three rotations despite telling her that he wasn't going to give her any information. She ignored what was said to her and lifted her chin ever so slightly as husky vocals eased from scarred lips to inform him of what was going to happen.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, you have one opportunity to answer each before I go to the next. If you do not answer more than half of the questions I ask in each set, I will explore your tolerances for pain and discomfort until I am satisfied with what I learn. Then I will ask the next set of questions and the same will apply, do you understand?" She asked with the same calmness she'd explained.
"Yeah, sure whatever you say Boss," he replied dryly.
"Good." There was nothing more on that to say so Niema continued her slow walk as the chair turned around the room. Her hands were behind her, wrists resting at the small of her back. "Who are you working for?"
"How many is a few?" he asked rather than answer.
"What was the purpose of the hostage situation?"
"I know you don't think I'm actually going to tell you."
"Did you get what you came for?"
"When are you going to answer my question?" he smirked.
Niema didn't answer him, she just stopped, and when she stopped the chair stopped, leaving MIC sitting there staring at her. She walked around him running her hand over the top as she disappeared from his view. "Three... you can scream if you want when we get going, no one but me will hear you and I'll stop when I'm ready to stop so.. do yourself a favor, and think about whether or not you want to go through a second round of this, before I decide to ask the next set of questions."
She listened to him chuckle a little but he never answered. Unable to see her while she collected a few tools off the wall.
The Underboss could be as cruel as she was intelligent, designing the chair he was in on a rotator plate, turning M.I.C. around where he sat, so he could get a full slow few of every wall in the room without needing to turn his head-- not like he could anyway. She left him like that while she changed out of what she'd been wearing and put on her torture suit. Skin-tight black leather pants that hung tauntingly low on her hips and little more than a matching strappy black bra that only just covered the darker peaks of her breasts. In the eyes of most she looked more like a stripper than an interrogator but that was because they weren't really looking. In a way, it was an animalistic gesture like a Cobra flares out in display, Niema was putting her scars on display. A full array of cuts, slashes, punctures, impalement, claws, teeth, wood, glass, metal and fire. Like the tools that made of the decor of those walls there was a scar, faint or well seen, for just about every kind of violence you could think of.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail where it was braided so when she walked back into that room there was no mistake about the business aspect of her visit. Custom armored boots were buckled up over her pants all the way up to her knees, they might have looked heavy to the eye but Niema moved like they weighed nothing at all. Agile and attentive she walked the circle the chair was turning in, watching the man in total silence for three rotations despite telling her that he wasn't going to give her any information. She ignored what was said to her and lifted her chin ever so slightly as husky vocals eased from scarred lips to inform him of what was going to happen.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, you have one opportunity to answer each before I go to the next. If you do not answer more than half of the questions I ask in each set, I will explore your tolerances for pain and discomfort until I am satisfied with what I learn. Then I will ask the next set of questions and the same will apply, do you understand?" She asked with the same calmness she'd explained.
"Yeah, sure whatever you say Boss," he replied dryly.
"Good." There was nothing more on that to say so Niema continued her slow walk as the chair turned around the room. Her hands were behind her, wrists resting at the small of her back. "Who are you working for?"
"How many is a few?" he asked rather than answer.
"What was the purpose of the hostage situation?"
"I know you don't think I'm actually going to tell you."
"Did you get what you came for?"
"When are you going to answer my question?" he smirked.
Niema didn't answer him, she just stopped, and when she stopped the chair stopped, leaving MIC sitting there staring at her. She walked around him running her hand over the top as she disappeared from his view. "Three... you can scream if you want when we get going, no one but me will hear you and I'll stop when I'm ready to stop so.. do yourself a favor, and think about whether or not you want to go through a second round of this, before I decide to ask the next set of questions."
She listened to him chuckle a little but he never answered. Unable to see her while she collected a few tools off the wall.
... to be continued ...