The Interrogation Meme

[snaketrap]

 The Interrogation Meme

 

 Your crimes were unspeakable, your lies were outnumbered, but finally you've been caught.
They bring you in, sit you down, and chain you up. No matter what power you have, no matter
how strong you are, you're not going anywhere so get comfy.
It's going to be a long night.
 

 

Rules
1. Post with your character, canon, and any prefs - You're the captive
2. Tag around to other characters. You're the interrogator.
3. Roll. Or, you know, don't.
3. Horribles.


RNG OPTIONS
1. Truth serum
You know this person isn't going to speak easy but you've got a surprise for them. This serum aught to loosen their lips a little.

2. Torture
The old fashion way might work best for this particular fellow. How about those nail screws?

3. Bargain
You've got something they really want, or really need. If they fess up, if they tell the truth of the matter, they'll get it.

4. Black mail
So, remember that night about ten years ago...? You know something they don't want the rest of the world to know and you're going to use it.

5. Seduction
Just because they're in chains on a chair doesn't mean you two can't have a little fun, right? Might be even more fun, come to think about it.

6. Leverage
Whether it's love, drugs, or something else -- it's hanging above your head. You're craving, aren't you? Or maybe that someone special is in danger if you don't spill.

7. WILDCARD
BECAUSE GIRAFFE. 

Comments

i just can't resist.

[couldntdecide]

(( hmmm. the first thing that comes to mind is pre-SHIELD when they bring her in, but if you wanted to try being the interrogator, we could do something else? maybe some kind of mind-control or a red room trigger word thing? idek. ))

[debts]

[ ooc | go ahead; pre-SHIELD works for me! ]

[couldntdecide]

[This is all highly unusual. And considering that organization he works for, Phil consider himself pretty well-versed in unusual, so that's saying something.

Normally, agents aren't brought in without extensive vetting, background checks, psych evals, skill assessments. But when Clint had wandered back in the safe house in Chișinău, Moldova, the very woman he was sent to kill in tow, Phil knew all the standard procedures were going to go out the window. Natalia Romanova was just as stunningly beautiful in person as she was on the grainy footage of a security camera, but everyone who had even heard of her knew what hid behind that flawless facade.

And now, back stateside, he's watching her through the one-way mirror of an interrogation room, vaguely unsettled by the feeling he has that the only reason she's still sitting there with her hands shackled to the front of the desk is because she's letting them keep her there.

Closing his eyes briefly -- he's so tired, he doesn't remember ever not feeling tired these days -- he drains the last of his coffee and nods to the psychiatrist standing beside him before heading in.

When he speaks, it's in Russian. He's a little bit rusty, but his stint in Uzbekistan has left him with a higher than passable vocabulary.] Are you comfortable?

[debts]

[ The Red Room's training is hard to shake. As soon as he appears (not a surprise; two way glass is the standard with Americans, and Barton had mentioned something off-handedly), she takes him in. Trained. Skilled. Specialist, most likely; someone with high security clearance. Harried in the way he doesn't know how to balance his professional and personal life; tired because he's dedicated to his work. She knows nothing about S.H.I.E.L.D save what they wanted her to know — her focus had been on Barton. He'd been tailing her for a month; she'd seen him a week into it, hiding behind a pair of sunglasses that screamed tourist.

Her face is hard to read, but hearing Russian makes her mouth quirk, like seeing a dog do something novel. Cute, but ultimately useless. ] Yes. [ Answering in English. (Natalia's not interested in pretense these days.) Her smile isn't genuine, but it is a thin effort. ] As much as can be expected, considering.

[ She gives her restraints a light tug, as if in explanation. The metal clinks a little against the table. Her expression doesn't change. ]

Yourself?

[couldntdecide]

[His face is carefully set in a bland, impersonal mask; he's gotten pretty good at it after all these years. Standing behind his chair for a moment, he curls his hands around the back, his wedding ring gleaming dully in the harsh fluorescent lights. There isn't much point to standing there and watching her, she's clearly been trained to withstand interrogation, but it's almost standard procedure by this point, and so he just waits, watching her quietly for a moment before he pulls out his chair and slides into it, folding his hands in front of him on the table.]

I am sorry about those. [Mild and pleasant, back in English.] But you understand why they're necessary. You're a dangerous woman, Miss Romanova. Some precautions are in order. [Even if he knows they'll at best only slow her down.]

So. Why are you here? [Because he's not an idiot; he knows that she let them take her in. But he wants to know why.]

[debts]

[ She matches him, phrase for phrase and tick for tick. Natasha's own face is largely impassive, revealing nothing: she takes in quiet ambient points, the flare of the light (specific amount of current needed and ways to amplify it, should she need to a hurry kill, but she doesn't, that's the point) and the shine of his ring. (She doesn't give it long: a couple months at most. A year if he's lucky.

All the better for her, then.) ]

I prefer this to being drugged. [ Plain, not self-deprecating. She does nothing but blink at him for a moment, as though surprised, though it's obvious by anyone who's familiar with the way the Black Widow operates that she's thinking. Assessing her angle of approach.

Eventually, she tips her chin. ] I want to set terms. With you or Agent Hawkeye personally; I don't care who.

[couldntdecide]

[Phil lets out a noncommittal hum, nodding briefly when she speaks.] Agent Barton is not authorized to set terms of any sort. [He's in for one hell of a shouting match later, this time from Fury. Phil already silently glared him into submission for breaking protocols and not only not eliminating the target but bringing her in.]

I, however, may be able to help you. I may not, you understand, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

[debts]

[ It, at least, confirms what she already knows. None of this is sanctioned, which means the likelihood of her staying alive is quickly tunneling into a null point. (At least death, Natasha thinks wryly, will come quickly to her here. Last she heard, the Americans didn't use stasis pods as punishment.)]

I want to defect. [ Her pronounciation is clear and plain. Yes, she's a survivor, and there's something pragmatic in the way she states the words. (What's the saying — no love lost?) ] You can have what you like in return. Information, if that pleases you.

[couldntdecide]

[His eyebrows lift a little higher, mild as can be.]

That's it? You want to come join our team and we get...anything we want in return? [His fingers tap against the metal table.] That's quite an offer. And a rather foolhardy one, if you don't mind me saying. You know very little about us.

[debts]

[ Her mouth quirks. (Her sense of humor will get better, with time; Natasha doesn't clarify that they can have whatever information they like, but that doesn't mean her memory will co-operate. The conditioning chamber never was very kind in the Red Room.) ]

I want to survive. [ It sounds more forgiving than I'm ready to be done with this life, I won't squander what your agent gave to me. ] There are four people on the other side of that glass. Three are armed. One is a psychologist. You— have specialty training, but I would be faster. The body suffers when the mind does. I could escape, and you could kill me, or I can talk terms with you. I prefer the latter.

[couldntdecide]

[There's a part of Phil that feels for her; she seems so young, and life clearly has not been kind to her. He'd be desperate to get out as well, if he were in her shoes, and he knows exactly what Clint saw in her that made him stay his hand. Hell, it's what Phil saw in Clint back when he first dragged the archer into legitimate government work.

He doesn't give any indication that he's surprised by her assessment.] We have no interest in killing you, Miss Romanova. All we are interested in is some kind of assurance that you're not playing us. [If you could turn your back on your people once, what's stopping you doing it again? goes unsaid.]

[debts]

[ Good; at least he's not incompetent. Natasha frowns, but it's not because the question has her stumped — she's rifling through the odds and ends of her life, piecing together something tangible enough for S.H.I.E.L.D (or, hell, herself, if she were on the other side of that table) to hang onto. ]

I have a killswitch implanted in me by the Red Room. I don't know what it is. I'm sure you have— [ Her mouth quirks again. The technology or telepaths or something else entirely; Natasha's not naive. ] —the means to find out what it is. You can neutralize or keep it.

[ She sits back in her chair, hands neatly clasped together on the table. ] There's your guarantee. Will that do?

[couldntdecide]

This killswitch. [He'd heard about operatives being implanted with subconscious trigger words, but he never really believed they were real. In the face of this woman's deadly serious expression, he may be starting to rethink that position.] What would it do to you?

[debts]

I don't know. It's never been activated. [ There's a cutting edge to her smile then, like that's evidence in itself of how dangerous she can be — of how much sitting here and talking with him is an improvement to the other, more messy alternative.

Still, there's nothing but something mild in her shrug. ]

I would put a gun into my mouth and pull the trigger. That seems like something my employers would do.

[couldntdecide]

[That wins a little smirk from him. Touché, Natalia. He doesn't seem phased by her threatening smile, though, just slightly amused.]

I see. [There's nothing for him to write on here, but there's still a sense that he's making a note of the new information with the way his head tilts a little to the left.]

I doubt that will be necessary, but your voluntary release of such information is...promising. [He nods, like he's agreeing with himself or like he's come to a decision or something, and lays both hands flat on the table.] You will be accorded a room here and probationary status. This means random checks of your bunk and your belongings, which does include the locker in the gymnasium. Mandatory psych visits occur twice a week, and you will be assigned a dedicated handler who will be with you at all times. Periodically, your status will be reevaluated and you may earn the right to more privileges.

[Finally, his bland smile fades and the look he gives her is hard, assessing.] Please remember that Agent Barton has put a lot on the line by bringing you in. Any attempts you made to sabotage your stay here would reflect...unfavorably on him.