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

Mello | Death Note | OTA

[volatility]

7

[identity_theft]

Are we comfortable mon invité?

[His tone is empty as the expression on his face. Interrogation and torture by association are not the classiest acts by what morally gray and blurred lines he follows; but that is not to say he above acts of inducing pain for information.]

Non?

[Gloved fingers pick at the restraints crossing his wrist giving test to their tightness. Not enough to cut circulation or subdue pain, but enough to keep movement down.]

[volatility]

[This isn't the way it's supposed to be. Mello is not the captive, he is the captor. The one who binds, the one who knows how to extract information from others like an art. This situation should not even be a possibility, let alone a reality. And yet here he is, bound at and another's mercy.]

No.

[The word is laced with disgust and Mello glares. Although he knows that being contrary isn't going to get him very far, he also refuses to play the role of compliance. He moves his wrists against the restraints and does not even bother trying to disguise the motions even as he is approached and the binds are examined. While he does so, however, his eyes never leave the man who is responsible for this, trying to get as much information as possible from his body language, needing all the ammo he can get in this state.]

[identity_theft]

[The binds are given a final tug to verify their tightness before he pulls away and stands to the side. It's precautionary above all to check these things. One has to be proficient in these dealings or a lame binding can make or break a session.

He watches and takes note of the bite in his voice. Useful later on perhaps, but anger isn't a powerful tool in the ways of prying information and he doesn't believe this man to be too short fused and stupid to slip up so. From his jacket is pulled a metal case and with a click it opens showcasing a set of cigarettes and a single lighter. The motions are practiced and in seconds there's a lit stem perched from his lips.]

I rather not resort to inducing pain. [It's not a total lie, he doesn't want to induce pain as pain often comes with dirty work.]

Is there a way we can amend the situation mon invité?

[volatility]

[Mello's mind works quickly, tries to develop different avenues of escape. He's only human, but he's a smart human, so there has to be some way he can work himself out of this situation. No matter what happens, however, he will reveal nothing, and he will not break.]

Really?

[Unconvinced, because Mello highly doubts that pain is on the limits list — doubts that there are limits at all. There wouldn't be for him, if the situation were reversed. He knows how a game like this is played.

He stops struggling at that question, narrows eyes and tries to read the man's intentions.]

I don't know. Why don't you tell me what you want and we'll from there?

[Mello may be able to manipulate his way out of this, but the likelihood does not seem promising. He's a good liar, but there are so many cards he does not have — so many tools that, as captive with little choice, he cannot access.]

[identity_theft]

The whereabouts of this notebook.

[There's no need to suggestion he knows more or less by being specific. It's a tool that his employers want and that is all the concerns him.]

My employers would also be very ecstatic to hear what else you have to say about it.

[Things are much easier when he can flash a revolver and play roulette or prick skin by the edge of a knife. Yet this one is experienced and worse; expecting. It comes of in the bitter tone like a taunt to do more, to rile so. His body turns letting his back be facing, the cigarette tapped and blunted to be repackaged for later.

In the corner sets a table, wheeled and wooden, atop which set an assortment of clinical devices and machines. Briefly he thinks to call in the Medic, but retorts the thought nearly fast as it comes. The captive needs to still be capable of speech and cognitive process and giving him to the hands of such madness doesn't promise them remaining.]

[volatility]

[At that, Mello smirks — amused despite the scenario, despite knowing that this situation is only going to go one way, with him being a victim rather than a victor. He relaxes his body, leaning into the chair and letting all tension flow away so that, if it weren't for the restraints, it would seem as though he were having a completely normal chat with an associate rather than an enemy.]

What notebook?

[He asks it to mock, not to try and plead innocence. They both know that Mello knows quite a bit about this notebook, because Mello has never kept that secret. In fact, in his negotiations, he has made his knowledge quite clear. He's always preferred a more straightforward approach to doing business, after all.

His smirk therefore does not fade as he speaks, tone almost a singsong denial.]

I don't know what you're taking about.

[identity_theft]

This is the point I'm supposed to gloat about what I'm going to do. Run over the finer détails of what is going to make you speak freely, but-

[As if mocking in return, he reaches out for the table and begins pulling it toward him. The wheels squeak with each full spin and once close enough come to a stop with one cut short. Enough illumination has fallen over the table top to give better view of the tools of trade.

Some could easily be mistaken for actual medical equipment and some very well are set aside in a pan while stewing in sterile liquid. Others are more obvious to intent being covered in cumbersome blades or drills. Yet its the small worn box that he stands closest to running a hand through some wire.]

Théâtralité is unbecoming of a spy, non? We are to reside in the shadow, not this- how you say- spotlight.

[His hand eventually reaches an end finding a wide clamp. With a squeeze he places it on the captives hand; firm, but none too tight.]

Did you know it was the French who first came up with the use of electricity as a means of torture? Guillotines were terriblement in gathering Intel as you can imagine. [He finishes by picking up another wire and running his hand through it to find its end.]

[volatility]

[Mello would like to think that he exists outside the realm of humanity in some ways, but the fact is, he is made of the same marrow as any other human being. Seeing torture instruments laid out before him, while expected, causes his pulse to increase. His face betrays no reaction, but it's there, beneath the surface, as he prepares for what will undoubtedly be a painful process of resistance. Despite his biological reaction, however, Mello is confident that he can keep everything he knows silenced and buried. Giving up information means losing — and if Mello loses, then there is nothing more for which he can live. His whole life has been build around trying to be number one. He'd rather be tortured to death than sacrifice the only information that matters.]

I did know that.

[As though they are having a perfectly normal conversation. It is the truth, too. Mello had studied much in his time at Wammy's. His smirk still lingers and he keeps himself poised with calmness, relaxed even as those words suggest what is to come, even as he watches the wires fingered in preparation.]

I also know that the French enjoy taking their time, so I'll prepare to be here for a while. La vérité vaut bien qu'on passe quelques années sans la trouver. Isn't that right? [His smirk stretches wider and he keeps his eyes on his captor, his soon-to-be-torturer.] I'll make it worth your while.