Genosha: In the Balance - Point of Origin

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Amanda and Korvus are both separately interrogated. Special attention is drawn to using their countries of origin as a method of persuasion, among other things.



The room was fairly nondescript: brick walls painted a cold steel blue, a light fixture, a metal table, two metal chairs. A camera was mounted in the ceiling. All in all it looked like something you might expect in a cop movie.

Amanda sat quietly, hands clasped in front of her on the table. The handcuffs around her thin wrists clanked heavily against the table top whenever she moved and the orange jumpsuit was glaringly bright in the cold-looking room. The witch herself seemed almost half-asleep, eyes heavy-lidded and her face slack. Only the briefest flash of tension through her body as the door's lock rattled betrayed that perhaps she was more alert than she appeared.

Nudging the door open with his elbow, the man who entered the room was hardly what one would have expected. Of medium height with light brown hair, he juggled a stack of folders and a thermos while his rimless glasses slid toward the end of his nose. "Hello," he said, closing the door with his foot before turning around and smiling at Amanda. Then he caught sight of the handcuffs on her wrists and frowned. "I'm sorry - just one moment." He put down the thermos and the files, then walked back to the door and opened it. Sticking his head out, he said, "Excuse me, but I'd appreciate it if you could get the handcuffs off her. That's hardly civil, am I right?"

He stepped back as a soldier came in to do as requested. Still frowning, he muttered, "What a mess."

Amanda mutely held up her hands for the cuffs to come off, rubbing at her wrists as the soldier left. "Aren't you afraid?" she said, watching the man set down his burden.

"That you'll attack me?" The man said, quirking a brow as the soldier left once more and the door closed behind him. "It's certainly always a possibility, but it wouldn't make sense given the situation." Sitting down, he paused for a moment to push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and smiled. "My name is Brian Razanamasy, by the way. The files say you're a Miss Amanda Sefton, British National. Is that correct?" As he spoke, he pulled a small collapsible cup from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pushed it open.

She shrugged. "Sounds 'bout right. But you're the man with the file. You already know all there is to know, right?"

"Hardly," he said with a smile. "I know what the papers say, of course, but that's certainly not everything." Putting the cup on the table, he then pulled two packs of sugar and two single serving containers of milk from the pocket and put them down as well. "For instance, the files don't tell me whether or not you like tea and, even if they did, they wouldn't tell me how you took it. Though according to my mother, it's practically a genetic trait for the British, liking tea. Do you?"

Some life came into Amanda's face at the mention of tea. "White with one," she replied, sitting up a bit straighter, with a wince. "Your mother's not wrong about the tea. 'S the cure for most things, a good cuppa." She snorted and raised her eyebrows. "Well, most things."

Sliding the milk and sugar across the table to he, Brian nodded. "Mum says the same. Before we get started, tell me if you've any bumps and bruises. They mentioned a blow to the head - we'll get that looked at, of course."

"I caught a rubber bullet to the head, yeah." Amanda looked to the thermos almost longingly. "'S jangled me wits a bit. 'M not sure how much use I'll be to you."

Brian winced in sympathy and opened the thermos, pouring out a good bit of tea into the thermos' top. He slid that across the table to her and poured another bit into the collapsible cup. "I'm sorry about all this. You've some options, though, as a foreign national. I just need you to answer some questions, really - get things cleared up. My government's fairly certain you got mixed up in this by accident - we just need to pull together the evidence that proves you're not a terrorist."

The ironic thing was that technically, she was a terrorist. For justice. Her lips twitched a bit at the thought and she reflected that perhaps not all of the concussion was faked. "What questions?" she asked instead, innocently sipping at her tea. Fuck, that was good.

"Well, we know you work with Snow Valley in New York City, so we'd mostly like to know what was going on from your end. You must understand, from the Genoshan government's perspective, the actions taken by these mutants were acts of aggression. Why was a mutant think tank like Snow Valley involved?" Brian sipped at his own tea even as he slid a pad of paper out from the pile of files and then took a pen from another pocket on his suit jacket.

Amanda tried to think. Protecting X-Force's cover was important, so having the group as part of an official action against Genosha was a bad idea. But they had Marie-Ange and Doug as well, both registered on the books as employees, a bit of a coincidence to explain. At least Remy and Jubilee weren't officially connected to the think tank at all.

It didn't help her head was killing her.

"You took my sister," she said at last. "From the protest. When I found out she was here, I lost it. Insisted on coming here on my own. A couple of my mates from work followed along, to make sure I'd be all right. Things sort of went out of control from there." She looked at Brian with contrition all over her face. "I wasn't planning anything like this, but you've got to understand, you had my little sister. I had to protect her."

"I would say out of control is right." He said, pouring another cup. "Are you telling me that your break-in and the assault taking place were coincidence though?"

She shrugged and issued up a crooked half-smile. "'M coincidence's bitch. Happens all the time."

"Sometimes, but we have to be careful, Amanda." He gave her an encouraging smile. "I don't think that you had any idea that you were going to help bring an army into Genosha, but someone you work with did. Why don't you tell me what's really going on at your work? It's not just a think tank, is it?"

Amanda grimaced, sipping her tea. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm a research assistant for a mutant think tank, that's all. I mean, yeah I'm a mutant myself, but do I look like a soldier? I just came here to look for my sister, that's all."

"Come on, Amanda. You don't know any of these people? Never met any of them? You can understand why I'd find that hard to believe."

"I didn't say I didn't know them," she replied, sounding fractious and rubbing her forehead slightly as if in pain. "I went to Xavier's school, you'll have that on your records. But I had no idea they'd be here and all."

"So only some of them are terrorists?"

"None of them are terrorists." Amanda sounded confused now. "You're trying to trick me into saying something that isn't true."

"I'm trying to get the truth, Amanda. You said that some friends from work came to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. Which ones are they? The ones you used to go to school with who killed dozens of Magistrates?" He sat back with a disappointed look. "Look, I don't want to keep you behind bars one minute longer than is strictly necessary. But, we've had dozens killed, hundreds injured, and millions of dollars in damage done to us by a group of mutant fanatics. I need to know that you're not one of them before I can let you go, and you can help me do that by identifying which ones came with you, and which ones used you to cover their attack."

"I don't want to stay here either, but I don't know what to tell you," Amanda's voice trembled a little. "They're not terrorists. They were just trying to get our people back." She gave him a pleading look. "Please, no-one meant to get anyone killed."

"Do you think that will be good enough for their families, Amanda? There's a lot of kids that just learned mom or dad aren't coming home tonight. A lot of marriages that just turned into widows. If you know anything about these other people, you need to tell me, Amanda."

The witch shook her head. "I can't," she said helplessly. "I just can't."

"Alright, I think we're through here." He got up. "I want you to think very hard about what you know and what you're telling me. I can't let you go until I know the whole truth. You think about that tonight in that cell, and about how much longer you want to be there."







Korvus rested his face on the plain, steel table. The metal was cool against the heat of his broken nose, a sensation he was currently finding to be pleasant enough to help put him to sleep. He hadn't seen Meggan since their arrival and so hadn't been sleeping well. For as much practice as he had put into not worrying over attachments, she seemed to be a blind spot in that discipline.

The door opened, allowing in a small, grey-haired woman in a business suit that didn't quite sit right. "Hello, Mr...." she paused and looked at some notes on top of the file in her arms. "...Rook'shir, is it? I'm Genevive Cross."

The young man raised his head, offering a smile and a nod. "Ms. Cross."

"That's quite a mess your face is in - have you had medical attention?" Cross sat down opposite Korvus, her expression harried. "Probably not. This is all such a mess right now."

"I believe we're still in the initial phase of incarceration, in which I am being dehumanized to weaken my resistance. I suspect a request system will make an appearance shortly to help us institutionalize." Korvus offered casually, not seeming to be concerned with the injury. "I likely have a deviated septum but nothing that can not be attended to at a later date."

She blinked at his response, then nodded. "I see you are educated in this sort of thing. Not from experience, I hope..." She opened the file folder on the desk. "In that case, let's get to the point, shall we? I'm here to make you an offer on behalf of the Genoshan government."

"As you wish." Korvus assented with a nod.

"As an Indian national, we're inclined to treat you with some leniency," she continued. "Obviously, you have been caught up in this whole situation by accident. You aren't one of them, after all."

"One of what? A mutant?" Korvus asked curiously. "I am a mutant and chose to attend that school because they are at the forefront of mutant oriented education."

"One of the Brotherhood terrorist cell that operates out of that educational facility," Cross clarified. "One of those people responsible for hundreds of Genoahsan deaths."

Korvus' tongue clicked softly against his teeth. "Oh, that is unfortunate. I believe we have already reached the end of any substantive conversation. There is no such thing at Xavier's School; something I am sure you've been told by multiple people and do not believe. Even if I am mistaken, I am sure you could not share your evidence with me and, even if you did, I would not believe it since it does not match my experience. I am also unwilling to admit to something I know to not be true, even if all you wished to acquire from me was a confession."

The woman shook her head, looking tired and somewhat harried. "I'm not playing games with you, Korvus. I'm far too busy for that. So I'll be plain. We've spoken to the Indian embassy here in Genosha about your situation and we've received word that Prime Minister Neramani is concerned for your welfare. It would be to your benefit if you gave us the information we're seeking, information on the Brotherhood cell operating out of Xavier's Institute. How they find their recruits, how they're trained, what they're trained for. If you give us that information, we'll be inclined to release you and give you safe passage back to India."

"I just preemptively answered those questions. I'm sorry, Ms. Cross but our conversation appears to be 'circling.' I appreciate your offer, however." Korvus said very genuinely with an added smile.

"Prison can be a very unpleasant place," she warned him, sounding regretful rather than threatening. "Especially for one as young as yourself, Korvus. I hope you reconsider, for your own sake."

"I am well aware. I was enslaved for years in Madripoor just recently because my mutation is functional for labor." Korvus informed the woman with a nod. "Implied harm will neither earn my favor, generate fear, or in any other way entice me into saying anything false and what you want me to say is simply not true."

"Truth is subjective, Korvus. You'll see, in time." Ms. Cross flipped the file folder closed and nodded to the guard, looking in through the door. "You've given us sufficient information for now. Take him back to his cell, Magistrate."