xp_logs | Genosha - In the Balance: Suspicious Minds (Reply)

Korvus is still not a cooperative prisoner. Even when he gets the "bad cop" treatment, he just won't talk.

Warning: Violence

"I believe bruises provide diminishing returns." Korvus observed, slowly straightening himself up in the chair. His arms were restrained behind his back to prevent him from resisting or falling from the makeshift platform. His nose still wheezed from having been broken; his first injury of the entire ordeal.

"Mouthy little fuck, ain't ya?" A kidney blow landed with a wet noise, pain exploding through his midsection. "The point here, sunshine, is that you've already proved that you ain't going to talk. Which makes you fuckin' worthless to talk to. But very useful to hurt. See, every time those other cunts don't talk, we're going to take you in here and stomp you some more. If they don't talk tomorrow, we make sure we've got a couple of box cutters. Next day, maybe a blowtorch. I've never seen a man hard enough not to scream while his balls are burnt off."

Korvus took a deep breath at the punch, slowly releasing it as the man spoke. The pain was even more intense without his mutation but he had years of martial arts and transcendental meditation training. All of it before his mutation manifested. "I am not familiar with which part of the anatomy 'balls' refers to. I believe their inability to cope with the pain may have been because they were too 'hard.' The hard tree is blown over in high winds." He offered, as if they were having a very normal conversation.

"You know what my fortune cookie said? Flexible fucks who get beat on until their heads get cracked open also end up on the ground." He tilted Korvus's chair back. "Here's a fuckin' English lesson for you." He said, as he drove a fist into Korvus's testicles.

The punch landed hard and Korvus' breath stopped for a moment before a short, strong laugh burst out. "Testicles are balls! Because of their shape. Very clever." He took the moment to catch his breath. "That strike was quite painful, you have my credit. Unfortunately the Shaolin Temple trains their monks to resist attacks to weak points, such as the testicles. I attended seminars in China as a gurukkal representing the Rook'shir family. We are quite famous soldiers, historically."

"Sitting there handcuffed to a chair? Don't look like much of a fucking soldier to me, sunshine." The blows continued, carefully placed to cause pain more than damage for now. "Fact is, you look like some wanker with too much shite running out of your gob."

"I still do not understand your idioms or slang, I am afraid." The conversation helped Korvus keep his mind occupied. He was glad the man beating him was indulgent. "Also, I do not accept your logic. Soldiers can't be handcuffed? Or are no longer soldiers once restrained? Most people don't find the skills to be conditional upon freedom of movement."

"They should just put you down. Brainwashed fanatic fuck." He snarled, the heel of his boot smashing into the inside of Korvus' knee. The next blow knocked over the chair, bouncing the young man's head off the floor painfully. As he lay there, the man pulled his baton and took careful aim at the skull behind the ear, like a golfer teeing up his shot.

"Sergeant." The voice was quiet, controlled, but cut through like a lash. The baton dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers as the man assembled a hasty salute.

"Chief Anderson, ma'am!"

"At ease." Distastefully, she stepped into the room, Wittcombe with her. "You're attached to the Minister's guard, correct?" The man nodded. "I'd suggest that you report back for new orders." With a second look at the mutant on the floor, he left.

With Wittcombe's help, they got Korvus' chair upright and Anderson inspected the damage quickly. "Painful, but he'll live. I've been dealt worse in bar fights."

"It's not unlike that down here. Chief, the Minister has made it clear my authority ends at the interrogation room door, and my medical teams are getting overworked."

"I realize that."

Korvus felt groggy from the head blow, looking up through lidded eyes at the pair. "Does that conclude this torture session or is he simply tired?"

They both looked at him for a moment before turning away. "Get him back to his cell." Wittcombe said finally, ordering a pair of guards in. However, it look long enough to offer him a chance to listen to their conversation.

"Something stinks here, Chief. They're stupid and mouthy, but a professional terrorist group? Half of them come off as idealistic teenagers and the rest as seasoned assassins. It doesn't feel true."

"I know Elias. But the President has evidence that their statements are supporting. They took out a standing army and fleet action in India alone."

"I've built my career knowing who are bad people and how to keep them locked up. Dangerous, sure, but- bloody hell, it's naive idealism more than fanaticism. I'd say we locked up a bunch of would-be superheroes with mental deficiencies before I'd peg them as terrorists. Having Moreau's private security force torturing them only makes me more suspicious."

"This whole operation has the same problem. I fought child soldiers and fanatics, and these aren't the same thing." Anderson's face was stony. "I feel like we're getting played here, Elias. And fucking Thomas is the one doing it."

"Find out, Chief. I'm running out of ways to keep these people alive and un-zombified. Another week of this and I'm sending bodies to the morgue thanks to these fuckers."

"Talk to no one about this, Elias. Not until you hear from me."

The young man focused as best he could though his eyes closed and his head hung forward. Korvus vaguely remembered being drug back to his cell while still in the chair. He remembered the rest of the night just as intermittently.