Genosha: In the Balance - High Expectations

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Sarah Morlocke is interrogated from a unique location.


Sarah's hands had been bound behind her back with zipcuffs; the damage she'd done during her capture and her blatant disregard for her personal safety meant she was being accorded no freedom of movement. Her legs, too, had been manacled, and during the process of outfitting her with the restraints additionally forced her into what appeared to be an old harness from a parachuting rig. The reason for the last precaution had become clear only after they arrived at their destination.

Unlike the others, Sarah had not been taken to an interrogation room. Instead they had taken her into a freight elevator which, after an interminable wait, had finally opened its doors onto another level. Not the highest, but high enough to see quite a bit of the countryside.

The exterior of the Citadel had suffered some damage in the initial attack, some of it by friendly fire. Workers had moved quickly to remove any debris, and there were a few hoists in place to lift new panes of glass or other structural necessities too inconvenient to transport. One such hoist was on the level the guards had pushed her onto. It was to this hoist that they had taken her, done some manipulating of the wire cable, and clipped the lifting hook to her harness.

"Terrorist or not, you have to admit it's a hell of a view," came a pleasant voice. A tall, light-eyed man with neatly clipped brown hair stepped out of the shade of the wall, a clipboard in hand. He gave her a polite smile and gazed out across the Genoshan countryside. Whatever he saw there seemed to turn his smile more genuine before returning his attention to her. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Morlocke."

Sarah didn't like this at all. Sure, the last few years she had mostly pushed her fear of heights away, retreating to the roof of the Brownstone to smoke sometimes. But this was taller, and more exposed. Not to mention these fuckers didn't like her at all. She couldn't imagine why. "It is a lovely view. Too bad the whole city is built on lies."

"No offense, Ms. Morlocke, but you're an American. A few sensationalized reports picked up by a 24 hour news cycle from a handful of sources don't provide the most accurate view of a whole country." The man strode towards her, though his apparently casual steps did not take him within range of a potential headbutt or a surprise lash from her legs. "Though since you are American, I am curious as to why you're here. We know you're not an X-Man, and you haven't been a student there for some time. How did you get tangled up in this?"

She scoffed. If she looked at him, and kept her focus on how much of a patriotic brainwashed idiot he was, she didn't have to consider how many floors up she was dangling. "The news didn't show me a little girl exploding due to your mutate process. That was a show you all kindly put on for us."

"That was a show the people you signed up with brought upon themselves. I understand it's hard to watch something like that happen to a child, even if it was unintended, but forgive me if your attempts at guilt don't carry much weight. More than one child lost a parent when you decided to attack the Citadel. Some because of you personally." The interrogator turned and nodded to one of the guards and gave him a nod before turning his attention back to Sarah. "Though maybe the thought didn't occur to someone who never had any of her own."

The guard in question stepped up behind Sarah and shoved the butt of his rifle into the small of her back, forcing her to take a handful of steps towards the edge.

"I'd still like to know why you came here," the interrogator continued. "You don't seem to be on anyone's radar. Did they simply call you up out of the blue for a terrorist act?"

Sarah knew the harness was still attached to keep her from falling, and yet she still felt the need to throw out her arms to steady herself. The zipcords kept her hands firmly where they were. When she turned back around her expression was one of boredom. "I woke up and here I was. And then there was a fight. I do love fistfights."

"And there are several men down in medical who can testify you excel at them." The interrogator consulted his clipboard and cupped the fingers of his free hand in a beckoning motion, and the guard shoved her again. The edge of the rooftop was now less than four feet away. "Someone taught you to fight. Or rather, put the polish on what you already had, since I see you spent part of your childhood in some kind of underground training camp." He looked back at her, one eyebrow raised. "Our sources say they were almost entirely wiped out, so I suppose it wasn't a particularly good one. Is that what Xavier's offered? Or perhaps those missing years were spent honing your skills with Magneto."

"Or maybe the wolves trained me." Sarah could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she forced herself to keep a calm demeanor as she spoke. These fuckers were not going to get to her. She was a goddamn professional. "No parents, no future, so I ran away and joined a pack of wolves. They trained me to fight like an animal and I killed them all before I left."

With a sigh, the interrogator gestured to the guard at Sarah's back.

This time the blow sent her over the edge of the rooftop.

Sarah fully intended to scream as she forcibly left her perch on the the roof, but her voice caught in her throat and it came out in a strangled cry instead. She didn't fall far-- the harness she was wearing stopped her a few feet down, leaving her dangling against the wall of the Citadel. She looked for the closest handhold, but the windows were spaced too far apart to be of any help. She leaned her head against the wall, and refused to look down. "Did that make you feel better?"

"Despite what you might think, no one is having fun here." Unseen hands hauled on the line. Inch by jolting inch, Sarah was lifted back up the side of the Citadel. With every pull the concrete wall scraped the back of the harness and its securing hook.

Progress stopped just as her shoulders cleared the edge, leaving the promise of solid ground almost close enough to touch. The interrogator took a seat on the edge a few feet away, unconcernedly allowing his long, stork-like legs to dangle over the side.

"I can understand loyalty," he said. "These people took you in when no one else would. Maybe you had orders, or maybe they just talked you into it -- called in a favor, played on your nostalgia, whatever. But you have to understand that you aren't the only ones with a duty to protect your own. You can decry what was done to bring you here and all that's happened since, but that doesn't change the fact we were forced into this position. We offered you a peaceful alternative and it was rejected. Instead you launched a terrorist attack -- an attack without warning in the heart of our country that cost dozens of lives and potentially ruined hundreds more. These people recruited you for an act that made you no better than the ones who slaughtered your friends in the tunnels." He turned to her, a light breeze stirring his short brown hair. "Won't you at least tell us who gave you the order?"

"If your intel shows that I hold any allegiances to anybody other than myself, you need to have them fired," she growled, using her feet to push away from the wall slightly. She knew first-hand what would happen when material (even the reinforced stuff used in her parachuting harness) rubbed against rough surfaces. "I am a selfish fucking bitch."

The interrogator shook his head. "A selfish person would be selling out whoever she could."

The slack released without warning, jolting Sarah again to the bottom of the tether.

"Who sent you here?" came a question from somewhere above, the voice calm and distant.

The shock at the end of the line snapped her head downward, and she got a good look at just how high she was hanging. Sarah closed her eyes, but she could still see the drop imprinted on the back of her eyelids. "They aren't worth your time," she called back, the panic bubbling just under the surface of her voice, "none of them."

The harness rasped horribly against the concrete as she was hauled up a second time. Once more the ascent halted just before her elbows could top the edge of the wall.

"Then why not tell us?" the interrogator asked. He sighed and put the clipboard beside him on the ledge. "I don't believe you're an animal, Sarah. You may be dangerous, and damaged, but you're just a girl -- and it's entirely possible you've been used by the people you're protecting. Believe me when I say I genuinely get no enjoyment from this. Just tell me who gave you your orders and we can take you back inside."

Sarah looked up at him, exasperated. "Because you are fucking hanging me from the side of a building!" She was beginning to get more agitated in her voice patterns and in her movements, oblivious now to the snagging and scratching noises the harness made as it rubbed against the wall. "This doesn't encourage me to believe anything you say, or to tell you a goddamn thing!"

The man shook his head. "The only reason you're hanging now is because you refused to answer the questions I asked. I don't want to hurt you, and not just because I doubt you care about pain. You can believe that or not, it doesn't really matter. But believe this: we need these answers. And I'll do whatever I have to do to see nothing like what you people did to us ever happens again."

He fixed his eyes on her again. He said again, almost gently, "Sarah, who sent you here?"

"Does anybody really know who sent them here?" She was babbling now, words spilling out in between desperate gulps of air. "I mean, I think my purpose here is to be the main audience for Chuck Palahniuk's novels. Have you read Fight Club? They don't make me feel sane, they just make me feel like being crazy as fuck is also valid. But knowing who sent me to be Chuck's biggest fan? That's a deep question I'm not prepared to answer."

The interrogator put his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, as if the thoughtless cascade of words pained him. Thirty seconds ticked by in silence.

Then she dropped.

Sarah shrieked, wishing she at least had her arms to claw herself bloody trying to climb back up. She could feel her stomach in her throat, and she got one last good look at the scenery before she slammed her eyes shut, thrashing in the harness with all the momentum she could gather without the use of her arms. Either they were going to let her loose, or she was going to pull the whole thing down and end it herself. Either way, she was fucking done with these bastards.

The interrogator's shadow fell across her as she hung. He risen to his feet so he could walk over to her, and now he was leaning over the edge. "I can't make you talk," he said with what almost sounded like regret, "but I can give you time to consider your position."

The shadow disappeared, and from somewhere far beyond the ledge she heard him speak to the guards.

"Leave her there. In an hour we'll try again."