A typical cell inside ADX Marin Island; there are 24 single-person cells per cellblock (16 cellblocks total) at the facilityTime is but a manner of measurement and the longer one spends isolated from others, the more time begins to unravel, Tamara thought, as she awoke to another day inside the 9x12 foot prison cell that was now her home, the harsh fluorescent light shining as it always did in the ceiling fixture this time of day...of course, she thought bitterly as she began to wake up in full, I never thought I'd ever be inside one of these damn cells, moving around until she was sitting, her legs hanging off the concrete-poured slab that was her bed, the hard plastic mattress underneath making little creaking noises as she sat for a few minutes, thinking about the day ahead - and nothing else.
Of course, she could remember everything - from the time she'd awoke aboard some strange aircraft, shackled and wearing an orange jumpsuit that simply read on the front - MN 00217 - Mutant Number 217, one of the transport guards told her, adding with a sneer, "Memorize it 'cause that's your number for the rest of your life, Mutie!" - to the time she'd arrived at this strange island somewhere on the coast, its' location she didn't know, to going through intake and processing and everything that entailed - she still shuddered at how intrusive it had been, as if the guards were taking a perverse pleasure in their work - to finally being escorted to her drab, concrete cell, within which were three sets of green prison clothes (scrub tops and bottoms), three green jumpsuits for work outside, along with underclothes, toiletry supplies, a couple of writing pads, a religious book (in her case, a bible), a couple sets of towels and washcloths, a set of shower shoes, a set of slip-on deck shoes, a set of athletic shoes and a set of steel-toed work shoes, along with an orientation book and ADX rules book. Those things were now all the possessions that she owned; everything else - like her before-life - had been erased, disappeared into the ether.
It all combined into nightmares the first few nights, nightmares so vivid and real-like that she often wondered if she'd even make it the first few weeks, never mind however long she'd be in this godforsaken place. Yes, like most mutants, Tamara had heard about GADEM but had long believed her position at the Xavier School would keep her safe, but she had long disabused herself of those thoughts. She did, however, keep memories of both her sister Sarah and her love, Samantha Archer, in her mind and would sometimes wonder where they'd been taken off to...but she'd soon stopped worrying because she knew if she started worrying about them, she'd eventually lose her sanity at some point.
Better get going, she mused, getting up off the slab and getting ready for the day ahead - first, she stripped off and showered, taking an all-too-short shower, making sure to get the high spots if nothing else. Next, she toweled off, drying her body and hair - inmates weren't allowed hair dryers inside - and pausing to look at herself in the stainless steel mirror inset into one of the concrete walls; shorn of makeup, jewelry and the other things that made a woman beautiful, Tamara Lyell looked like a virtual ghost. Dressing in one of the green prison jumpsuits, Tamara knew she'd be in for another hard day's work outside - on one of her first days' at Marin Island, she had been told by prison staff that she would assigned to work the prison gardens, located outside the walls but inside the ADX's mutant power-jamming systems - she made sure everything was in place; no sense being sloppy, she thought, pausing as she slipped on her work boots and laced them up tight, tucking the legs of her jumpsuit inside.
Satisfied she was dressed appropriately - the guards always kept an eye for who followed the rules and who didn't, she had noticed - Tamara then spent the next few minutes straightening up her bed, making sure everything was tucked in high and tight so that, when the morning count and inspection took place, she would pass. She hated inspection time: you had to stand at your cell door, in loose attention, cell door open as one of the assistant wardens looked at everything, making sure there wasn't anything out of place. Sometimes he'd talk to the inmates, ask them this or that...he'd done that with Tamara once, asking her what her Mutant Number was. "Mutant Number 217, sir!" Tamara said, eyes facing forward (inmates weren't allowed to look at guards or staff whenever asked about something) and feeling galled out over it - not because of the number but because she'd said it matter-of-factly, making her wonder if she'd eventually forget her own name and just go by 217 the rest of her days. That thought depressed her but it also made her remember her name.
Once inspection and count time was complete, Tamara - along with a couple other female inmates (that was one very peculiar thing she had noticed; all the inmates at Marin Island were women) - were called over to the cellblock desk. "Wait here," the guard said to them as they stood there in line, the guard calling ahead to make sure that the four were indeed on the prison call-out list for work duty. After a short wait, the guard pointed towards the door and said, "Go through the door and down the walkway to the waiting area," with a decidedly bored manner.
"Yes, sir," the four of them, including Tamara, said, walking in line out the door and out into the harsh coastal sun; down the walkway they went, another hard day ahead of them all....
Last Edit: Jun 15, 2018 16:18:07 GMT by Tamara Lyell
Olivia straightened her long coat, the helicopter’s vicious winds drew to a slow stop as she stepped inside the prison. Guards greeted her with a formal solute and a respectful nod, while she appreciated the perfection of having a well kempt army she was growing restless with the ton of crap piling onto the organization. Agents killed off by some or other vigilante against GADEM, mutants escaping every now and then, Samuel was a dead man and Dylan was off doing his own thing. As much progress as the cocky bastard made, she still kept a close eye on him, his unpredictability pleased her as much as it worried her. “Director Chase, we weren’t expecting you”, a guard dressed more formal than his colleagues approached her inside the cold confines of the building
“People rarely do, I’m here to speak to one of your prisoners. New addition, I don’t give a crap what number you gave her, I’ll be waiting in the interrogation room while you fetch Tamara Lyell”, she didn’t bother waiting to see his features shift or hear his hard thuds as he complied. Instead she followed the maze-like corridors until she stepped through the thick door hiding away a simple steel table with two chairs facing one another. Her eyes rolled at the set of guards setting up in ever corner of the room, waiting for the prisoner and whatever dangers lied with her.
“I’ll speak to the prisoner alone”, she held up a hand to silence the protest of an older gentleman dressed in the same standard uniform, “I can manage perfectly well on my own. If I need help I’ll raise the alarm. Out. Now”. She made herself comfortable in the cold steel embrace of one chair and pulled out a file from the inner pockets of her long coat, it was slightly wrinkled in the corners but intact for the most part. Her blonde hair rolled over her shoulder as she turned to look at the door breaking open to reveal the mutant she’d come to see.
“Please, sit down. We have a lot we need to discuss”, there was an eerie grin on her lips as she gestured to the opposite side of the table. Olivia waited patiently until she could comfortably face the mutant with two arms folded onto the steel surface in front of her.
“Here’s how this is going to work Miss. Lyell, I ask questions and you will answer each and every one of them, it would do you good to remember I am no stranger to crueler methods if it aids in our purpose. I’m certain one peek into my mind will be enough incentive for your cooperation. Sadly, we’ve upgraded all our interrogation rooms against several mutant abilities, telepathic tricks included”, Olivia leaned forward, she felt a comfortable tug at the heavy weight of her own gun strapped to her hip under the cover of her coat.
“I’m sure you’re very capable of doing the math, helping us is the only way to make life easier for yourself. So far, we’ve had zero success at infiltrating that damned school you worked at, it would be public chaos if we openly attacked a small army of mutant children and teachers alike. I’ll need you to divulge everything about your students and your colleagues, hell, throw in some mutant bastards you know from two years ago – as long as you tell me absolutely everything”, her lips tilted into a grin but the look etched into her gaze was a dark threat against any measure of rebellion or retaliation towards her civil request.
WORD COUNT: ### | OUTFIT: HERE | NOTES: @samuel
Oh, now what? Tamara thought as a pair of guards at the outer garden sally gate pulled her aside from the detail going out to the island's vegetable gardens (Marin Island grows its' own supply of vegetables on-site) and walked her back, shackled and cuffed, back inside. As they walked along, Tamara thought it odd that they were going to one of the administrative buildings on the island, a building known preversely as "the Funhouse" for all the interrogation and torture that went on inside; Tamara shuddered for a moment as it registered on her that that was where they were going but if anyone looked at her, they wouldn't've seen it.
Walking inside - she wasn't about to let them see any weakness from her, not if she could help it - they escorted Tamara to one of the interview rooms, pausing long enough to open the door and walk her inside, all-but-throwing her down onto the wooden chair facing a long metal table with rounded edged on it; opposite her sat a woman who looked downright evil from Tamara's prespective... “Please, sit down. We have a lot we need to discuss”, there was an eerie grin on her lips as she gestured to the opposite side of the table. Olivia waited patiently until she could comfortably face the mutant with two arms folded onto the steel surface in front of her.
"I'm sure we do, Ms. Blondie," Tamara said almost contemptuously; even though she'd only been at Marin Island for what, 6 weeks or so, Tamara Lyell had already taken on an inmate's affectations: slouched appearance, a slowly rising contempt for authority figures, a don't-give-a-damn attitude towards society. Of course, it was kind of hard to slouch much in your seat, Tamara thought, when they've got you chained hand and foot like a goddamn animal, moving a little in her seat so as not to be too uncomfortable as the woman opposite her began speaking.
“Here’s how this is going to work Miss. Lyell, I ask questions and you will answer each and every one of them, it would do you good to remember I am no stranger to crueler methods if it aids in our purpose. I’m certain one peek into my mind will be enough incentive for your cooperation. Sadly, we’ve upgraded all our interrogation rooms against several mutant abilities, telepathic tricks included,” the woman said to Tamara, leaning forward in her unencumbered chair, looking to Tamara like the kind of person who'd wake up, kick a few puppies around and then kick a few children around just for laughs. As the woman continued, Tamara just stared at her, a slowly growing dead angry look about her as if to say, Yeah, yeah, yeah, go on, please, you're boring me to death here; I'm going to miss my turn at the prison day spa if you don't hurry up...
“I’m sure you’re very capable of doing the math, helping us is the only way to make life easier for yourself. So far, we’ve had zero success at infiltrating that damned school you worked at, it would be public chaos if we openly attacked a small army of mutant children and teachers alike. I’ll need you to divulge everything about your students and your colleagues, hell, throw in some mutant bastards you know from two years ago – as long as you tell me absolutely everything”, her lips tilted into a grin but the look etched into her gaze was a dark threat against any measure of rebellion or retaliation towards her civil request.
Tamara chuckled at the woman's words, a slight evil chuckle that screamed, I'm not telling you a damn thing, Ms. Blondie, thinking of something to say in turn...after a long bit of staring at the woman whose name Tamara still didn't know, she leaned forward, the chains restraining her wrists and ankles lightly rattling inside the interview room as she leaned forward in her seat, a malevolent look now on her face, an evil expression about her lips and eyes as she spoke..."Divulge everything? Yeah. Right," pausing as she leaned forward some more, resting her elbows on the table, the restraints now taut on her. "You know, ever since man started recording history, your kind - humans," the word dripping with a contempt that Tamara never thought would ever escape her lips, "have tried to exterminate my kind - mutants, and you've failed at every attempt. You've stabbed us, buried us alive, hanged us, crucified us, thrown us to the lions, beheaded us, burned us at the stake, tortured us....yet we're still around, human," the contempt now clearly evident in Tamara's voice. "We're everywhere - that's right, we're everywhere. You thought you could exterminate us...no, no, you thought wrong," her eyes growing a smoky color, the color of anger rising inside someone. Then Tamara stared right at the other woman's eyes and added, "There's a storm coming, a storm this world has never seen...and when it arrives, my kind - mutants - will be at the top of the food chain. Your kind - humans - will be our slaves...if we're feeling generous; otherwise," staring away for a few moments before adding, "when the dust settles, there might a few billion fewer humans on this earth and you," chuckling a moment or two as Tamara's gaze turned right back on her, "you might be one of those fortunate ones."
As the sounds of her malevolent voice died down inside the interview room, Tamara spoke once more. "So...what questions did you have, Ms. Blondie?"
Olivia found herself inviting the challenge in the prisoner’s greeting with a grin, she hardly appreciated the weak willed these days when there was so much more fun to be had through proper interrogations. Still, while Olivia practiced every ounce of hatred towards their kind and appreciated any hardship they could endure she loved progress far more and her objective was clear. Mutants running amok were easy to control and contain, those who integrated themselves into political positions were an absolute mess and the school was even worse. With no way to justify the disappearance and inevitable war if they targeted the school, there was no way to control the mutants thriving inside it’s borders.
Olivia wasn’t blind to the degrading shift in the mutant’s appearance, she looked far more like a prisoner than the poised teacher in the mugshot the had tucked inside the file. She knew she’d probably burn in hell one day for her crimes against their species but she’d welcome the heat if it meant no one else had to suffer from their pestilence and their cruel abilities. She didn’t flinch or shift at the evil chuckle drifting through the prisoner’s lips, they didn’t scare her anymore. The months after her husband and daughter were murdered by their kind she was paranoid and absolutely fearful. She grew strong after that, ruthless in her goals.
Olivia leaned forward with her elbows planted into the cold steel surface, “It’s a nice, moving speech you’ve got there. The past is just that, the past, every previous act to rid the world of your kind was futile and worthless – I’m well aware. The thing is, they didn’t have me. I don’t give a shit if we kill you all, if we can’t kill you like the cockroaches you are then we’ll lock you up and throw away the key”, Olivia wiped a hand over her hair and relaxed back, she shoved the anger and fury to a pit they couldn’t hinder her job and faced the mutant with a calculated glare.
“We’ll take this slow”, Olivia nodded to the one way mirror so the employees would note down whatever was deemed important. Either way, the recording would be leaving this facility with her whether they wanted it to or not.
“Tell me about the school, how many teachers are employed and what abilities do they possess? Please, don’t waste my time, I will not hesitate to use any means necessary to get what I want”, Olivia worried more about the teachers than she did about the students. She was well aware most employees had abilities and constantly worked to master them, the students were brash and young and hardly held the focus to thwart off GADEM’s best agents. She welcomed any information, she also didn’t mind no cooperation – torture was a method she excelled at and a method she appreciated to the utter most extent.
“If our methods, cruel or not, do not loosen your tongue we’ll turn to the others”, she opened the top of the file and watched the photos of Sarah and Samantha prominently clipped to the top of the first page. Olivia felt in control, like she held all the cards and she was intent on winning.
WORD COUNT: ### | OUTFIT: HERE | NOTES: @samuel
Olivia leaned forward with her elbows planted into the cold steel surface, “It’s a nice, moving speech you’ve got there. The past is just that, the past, every previous act to rid the world of your kind was futile and worthless – I’m well aware. The thing is, they didn’t have me. I don’t give a shit if we kill you all, if we can’t kill you like the cockroaches you are then we’ll lock you up and throw away the key."
"Good luck with that, Ms. Blondie," Tamara sneered, the malevolent tone in her voice still present and still radiating outward, watching as the woman nodded in the direction behind Tamara, which reminded her that they weren't alone, that someone was watching... “We’ll take this slow”, Olivia nodded to the one way mirror so the employees would note down whatever was deemed important. Either way, the recording would be leaving this facility with her whether they wanted it to or not.
"We can take it however you want, sweet cheeks...slow, fast, your head in about a thousand pieces. Your choice," Tamara quipped, by now thoroughly bored with the woman sitting across from her and wondering if they couldn't just take her back to her 9x12 cell and just leave her be, she was that bored.
“Tell me about the school, how many teachers are employed and what abilities do they possess? Please, don’t waste my time, I will not hesitate to use any means necessary to get what I want”, the woman asked, opening up a file and showing aerial photos of the Xavier School, spreading them out so that Tamara could see them. She could see the grounds where she once walked, every place as special - and now as distant and as dead as her past was to her now. "What about them, Ms. Blondie?" Tamara said as she started to get a grasp on what the woman across from her was wanting...then, the woman spread out a few more photos...including, to Tamara's shock and horror, pictures of her sister Sarah and her lover Samantha.
“If our methods, cruel or not, do not loosen your tongue we’ll turn to the others”, she opened the top of the file and watched the photos of Sarah and Samantha prominently clipped to the top of the first page. Olivia felt in control, like she held all the cards and she was intent on winning. Looking at the photos, Tamara knew there were two roads she could travel: give in, give up everything she knew, everything she cared for - all with no guarantee of anything happening to the good...or she could make them get the information from her the hard way, make them torture her for it.
It only took her a second for that malevolent look to return to Tamara's face as she said to the woman, "You know, you can torture me to within an inch of my life, you can even have your interrogators do whatever they want to me....but you touch either of them and you're a dead woman, Ms. Blondie. You feel me?" By now Tamara was determined that, even if she to endure the worst tortures imaginable, she was not going to give up the Xavier School, the students and staff there, not even Sarah or Samantha....even at the cost of her life, she would make them beat the information out of her if they the stones to do so.
Olivia had to give the mutant credit for the ballsy words that littered the room and drove the atmosphere to a thick tension. She still didn’t scare, sometimes she wondered if there was anything left in the world that could drive her to that fearful hole that she shoved away and replaced with a seething hatred for their kind. There were still some aspects of her relentless assault on the mutant kind that were gray areas of uncertainty, she tended to find more difficulty to fulfill her work in relation to children who were cursed with that damned gene. It’s why she had an entire facility dedicated to the sole goal of developing a cure, a permanent end to the menace.
“I assure you, threats are an integrated part of my profession, you’re hardly the first and you surely won’t be the last. But if you’re so insistent on being loyal to your kind, then we’ll use whatever methods we have”, Olivia pushed the chair back before rising to her feet. She pulled the coat from her shoulders and folded it over her arm before knocking on the thick glass separating her from the guards.
“Take her down, now!”, while she waited for the guards to shuffle their way from the adjacent room to join them she walked around the table to collect the file with a dangerous gaze focused solely on the mutant. “I’ve never shied away from a challenge Miss. Lyell. If we cannot draw the answers out by brute force we’ll turn to those you care for, I’d keep that in mind while we’re down there”. Olivia left Tamara to the rough tug of the guards while she lead the way to the more obscure rooms located in the recesses of the basement floor lining the facility.
She stepped into a mess of things, a prisoner tied down to the steel supports of a sturdy chair with blood and bruises littering his face. She groaned and waved an palm to the seasoned interrogated refreshing his lips with a few gulps of water from a bottle tucked on the hard surface of a table in the corner.
He nearly choked on the large gulp of water for a second before regaining his composure, “I want him out. Now. We have a prisoner coming and I want all your attention focused on her”. “Of course Ma’am”, she nodded appreciatively as he knocked on an adjacent door and two guards drug the groaning mutant from the chair seconds before she turned to look at Tamara being forced into the room.
“Strap her in, I don’t have all day”, Olivia’s lips tilted into a smug grin shrouded in pure pride and dedication to her goals. She waited patiently as they strapped down the mutant prisoner and hung her jacket over the back of a chair. Olivia shifted on her feet to look at the prisoner with an almost happy smirk etched over her features, “Every bit of information against your kind is welcomed Miss. Lyell. Normally we start slowly, work it up until the prisoners can no longer hold their own against the beatings but you’re far stronger than the average pest, I’m sure you’ll do just fine under a little extra pressure”, she nodded to the bulky interrogator while he slipped on a pair of thick gloves, his boots made hard thuds against the cold floor as he neared Tamara, a dangerous look dancing in his gaze.
WORD COUNT: ### | OUTFIT: HERE | NOTES: @samuel
For several minutes the two women stared at each other, the hate in Tamara's eyes and inside her filling the interview room with a visceralness that rivaled anywhere on the face of the earth. Sitting there, chained at the wrists (and those were tightly fixed to a belly chain around her waist) and ankles, it was all Tamara could do not to rush at the woman sitting across from her, though she very well knew any attempt to do would've been fruitless. No, Tamara thought as the woman spoke, I have other ways to make the guards and staff here pay; if I have to live in misery 24/7, they'll live there too, 24/7...
“I assure you, threats are an integrated part of my profession, you’re hardly the first and you surely won’t be the last. But if you’re so insistent on being loyal to your kind, then we’ll use whatever methods we have”, Olivia pushed the chair back before rising to her feet. She pulled the coat from her shoulders and folded it over her arm before knocking on the thick glass separating her from the guards. “Take her down, now!”, she said. Within seconds, several guards came in and dragged Tamara from her chair; even though she was restrained as she were, she still could react like a caged animal, kicking out at one of the guards and striking him square on the side of the knee with her steel-toed boot, dropping him to the floor of the interview room with a sickening crunch. "Let me go!" Tamara screamed, her voice filling the interview room and the hallway, echoing like the violent musings of a sociopath (which, unbeknownst to the woman opposite Tamara, GADEM was slowly but surely turning her into).
The woman spoke once more. “I’ve never shied away from a challenge Miss. Lyell. If we cannot draw the answers out by brute force we’ll turn to those you care for, I’d keep that in mind while we’re down there”. "Five minutes alone, Ms. Blondie," Tamara sneered as she was carried down to Marin Island's interrogation and isolation areas, "five minutes, you and me!" lashing out as best she could at the woman. Of course, it did Tamara no good for after several minutes of struggling, they eventually reached one of the interrogation rooms.
“Strap her in, I don’t have all day”, Olivia’s lips tilted into a smug grin shrouded in pure pride and dedication to her goals. She waited patiently as they strapped down the mutant prisoner and hung her jacket over the back of a chair. Squirming in the chair - they'd removed the chains from her; Tamara was now strapped into a large wooden chair, large leather straps around her wrists, ankles and across her midsection keeping her tightly bound to the chair... Olivia shifted on her feet to look at the prisoner with an almost happy smirk etched over her features, “Every bit of information against your kind is welcomed Miss. Lyell. Normally we start slowly, work it up until the prisoners can no longer hold their own against the beatings but you’re far stronger than the average pest, I’m sure you’ll do just fine under a little extra pressure”, pausing only long enough to allow a large brute, who was placing leather gloves - thick leather gloves, Tamara noted - over his hands and walking towards her, a dangerous look dancing across his face.
Giving him a once-over, Tamara asked deadpan as he approached, "You know, as ugly as he looks, Ms. Blondie, I think there's a nice old bull dyke over in D2 Cellhouse that he should check out," not really caring what happened...let 'em beat me black and blue, she thought, I ain't giving up no one or nothing...
Last Edit: Jun 20, 2018 6:19:31 GMT by Tamara Lyell
Olivia found herself chuckling softly, the fucking pest had more spirit than she anticipated and while it annoyed the living shit out of her it also brought a sense of pleasure to her mind, the more spirit there was the more beatings it took to burn the life out of her gaze. she looked up to the brute of a man, it was pure coincidence he was here, last guy who worked the job was a scrawny fuck with round glasses who ended up dying in a car accident on the way home one day. It was a nice touch having a bulky mass of anger to intimidate most of the prisoners they brought down.
Director Chase felt herself relax back against the table with her palms loosely curled over the edge of the cold surface. She looked at the mutant with a hungry smile, she wanted to see that brave rebellious glint to her gaze burn to embers and wash away entirely. Olivia had no doubt that in time they could manage the mutant menace, perhaps eradicate the gene entirely but she sure as hell would love to conquer the political barriers keeping their efforts towards the school at bay.
“Loosen her tongue, just don’t rip the fucking thing out”, she wasn’t really as bad a person as her stubborn fuel for her goals allowed her to appear. There was a time she was kind, did no harm to any person and carried barely any wrath in her now fully tainted soul. That was before a mutant took her little girl and left her husband a bloody corpse, they took everything from her and she’d conquer heaven and hell if it meant stopping mutants from ruling over their kind in some distant, horrible future.
Olive kept a steely nonchalance at the sight of the prison guard shoving his curled fist into Tamara’s face with no trace of mercy present, not in his gaze or the fluid motion of his arm reeling back and ramming back into her flesh. After a while Olivia held up a hand to stall his assault on her, “How’s that tongue feel now? Ready to talk?”, Olivia grew impatient in the least. There was a terribly important meeting she had late that afternoon, mostly too dull the political inputs of assholes she didn’t need poking in their business. Nevertheless, if she found a dire need to stay put she’d shove their concerns up their ass until they choked. There was
WORD COUNT: ### | OUTFIT: HERE | NOTES: @samuel
Steeling herself for the first blows, Tamara stared straight at the other woman in the room and kept her eyes focused on her as the interrogator approached... “Loosen her tongue, just don’t rip the fucking thing out”, she wasn’t really as bad a person as her stubborn fuel for her goals allowed her to appear.
"Loosen? Loosen?!?" Tamara sneered. "Lady, you look as loose as a--- " Thwack! For several moments Tamara's mind was slow in catching up to what her body had just felt, namely that she'd been punched square in the face by a leather-gloved torturist and that it hurt like hell. Tamara could feel the small gash in her lower lip where the blow was delivered, could feel the first inklings of blood welling up on her lip from the blow. "Wow, that hurt," Tamara flippantly said, still a little dazed. "Is that all--"
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
With each blow, Tamara's face began to take on the appearance of a punching bag and she was beginning to feel woozy but her defiance was still there, her eyes still burning with the collective hatred of a few thousand years boiled up inside... Olivia kept a steely nonchalance at the sight of the prison guard shoving his curled fist into Tamara’s face with no trace of mercy present, not in his gaze or the fluid motion of his arm reeling back and ramming back into her flesh. After a while Olivia held up a hand to stall his assault on her, “How’s that tongue feel now? Ready to talk?”
There was an eerie silence inside the interrogation chamber....then Tamara looked the other woman right in the eye and rasped out, her voice broken by the beating she'd endured up to that point and said, "More...."
Olivia was nonchalant and almost comfortable with the dark bruises slowly bleeding into the mutant’s flesh and staining her skin. She could see the burning embers of rebellion against the idea of giving up the information rolling around in her mind. Olivia’s lips tilted into a grin into an unreadable grin at the single word bleeding through Tamara’s cracked lips. She rolled her eyes, a burning desire to break the prisoner burning inside her core like a dark inferno.
Olivia pushed off the table with a dark glare, grabbed the mutant’s face roughly in the firm grip of her nails and leaned closer with a soft, incredulous chuckle; “If you insist”. She turned her head to look look at the interrogator with a deep rooted conviction to drive the truth out of Tamara through blood and pain.
“You heard her”, her dark gaze shifted back to Tamara with a deadly glint to her haunted eyes, “more”. Olivia took measured steps back and basked in the loud thuds of fists connecting with flesh, it left a bittersweet taste on her lips in the form of a steady smirk coated in confidence.
Olivia was patient, watching every blow with interest. Eventually, when she thought the girl could have lost her rebellious desire to work against the kind request she stepped forward to face her with her shoulders aching under the pressure.
“How much of that fighting spirit’s still left?”, Olivia folded her hands over one another in front of her, “Talk now, don’t force our hand Miss. Lyell. There are worse ways to loosen a tongue, I hope you’ll keep that in mind”, Olivia glanced down at her shoes for a few long seconds before looking up to the prisoner. “What’s it gonna be? Talk or suffer?”, Olivia was a patient woman, perhaps because she found the pressure of a ticking clock more effective than the pure rush of impulse.
WORD COUNT: ### | OUTFIT: HERE | NOTES: @samuel
It continued on, the game between Tamara, her interrogator and the torturer....
Thwack! A shot across her jaw, sending red shoots of pain into Tamara's head and mind... Pow! A shot right the right cheek, leaving what Tamara was certain would be a not-so-nice bruise.... Bam! A shot across the left cheek, doing the same and causing her to wonder if her torturer was an equal-opportunity sadist...
Every little bit, her resistance continued, so much so that after what seemed like forever, her interrogator stopped and grabbed Tamara by the jaw, squeezing her face together and digging the tips of her fingers into her skin, causing more tendrils of pain to shoot through Tamara's upper body, all while her interrogator continued to watch... Olivia was patient, watching every blow with interest. Eventually, when she thought the girl could have lost her rebellious desire to work against the kind request she stepped forward to face her with her shoulders aching under the pressure. “How much of that fighting spirit’s still left?”
For some time after, Tamara continued to glare at the woman but it was slowly becoming apparent that, for all her bravado and talk, there were limits even she wasn't willing to go through. God forgive me, Tamara whispered, her voice barely audible, forgive me for what I'm about to do. Forgive me, she whispered, coughing loudly, her body racked with pain and guilt, anger and disgust. Tamara Lyell wasn't the type to give in but even she had limits and they'd reached those limits.
Olivia folded her hands over one another in front of her, “Talk now, don’t force our hand Miss. Lyell. There are worse ways to loosen a tongue, I hope you’ll keep that in mind”, Olivia glanced down at her shoes for a few long seconds before looking up to the prisoner. “What’s it gonna be? Talk or suffer?”
For several seconds Tamara's head lolled forward, like she was trying not to show that she had been broken, if not in body but in spirit. Everyone had their limits and Tamara Lyell, former professor of mathematics at the Xavier School, had reached hers'. "Ma'am...," Tamara said, coughing several times, deep racking coughs, "I'll....I'll tell you everything you want to know. About the school, about everyone I know, whatever I can do to help. I'm a Scanner, remember?" pausing as several more coughs racked her body, causing her to shake, "...everyone. Just make the pain stop, please?" It galled her to beg for relief but having already crossed that Rubicon, she wasn't in a position to complain. "Please? I know I'll never leave this place alive," Tamara said, looking downward at the floor to one side, "so, yes, I'll tell you everything that I know. Happy?" There was a beaten look about her, not just physically but mentally and spiritually...for the first time in her life, Tamara felt completely and utterly alone.
Olivia grew dull to the thuds of the blows, they were distant echoes she didn’t regard as important anymore. The sight of Tamara’s face accepting the torture in swollen flesh and battered skin was almost euphoric, not because she appreciated pain like a sadist but because every bruise brought the mutant closer to her inevitable break and that meant progress, Olivia appreciated progress. She didn’t feel the intensity of the mutant’s glare, not after years under their hatred and anger. If they were in her shoes she imagined they’d have the same purpose to save the world, protect it from the dangers of the evolved and unruled.
Olivia’s lips lit up in a grin at the words drifting through the mutant’s lips, her entire mind was ablaze with the pride of achieving the very thing she set out to do. She nodded eagerly, she wanted to know everything, use this mutant’s ability for their own purposes until she was worth no more than the dirt under their shoes. Then and only then Olivia would happily pull the trigger and bask in the sight of blood and brains until she saw life leave Tamara’s conflicted gaze.
Olivia reached with a slender finger to lift Tamara’s chin, her eyes narrowed in a dark glare as the interrogator hung on every word for further incentive. “I appreciate your surrender Miss. Lyell, the company will surely benefit from your selfless act. But until then”, she waited a second as the word crawled onto the soft skin of her lips, “more”. She wanted the mutant to know her place, to know the torture wouldn’t stop unless she shoved every ounce of rebellion into a chasm untouched by her mind. Olivia turned her back on Tamara, reached out to pull out the chair and relaxed into the cold comfort of it’s surface.
WORD COUNT: ### | OUTFIT: HERE | NOTES: @samuel
Despite Tamara's protestations, despite her repeated cries of "No more! No more!" the beatings continued. Every little bit of her will was now being broken, battered and bashed into little pieces of broken hope and shattered pride, only to be stepped on and broken into even tinier pieces. Over and over, the torturer slammed his fist into Tamara's face, battering her physical appearance even more than before.
And it was a two-way battering for Tamara: with every punch, her will to resist faded; with every punch, her resistance slowly faded away. Every so often, her head would loll and roll its' way around in near-unconsciousness, only for her torturer to jerk her head up by the hair and slam his fist into her face once more. Every so often she would try and get out a word here and there but it was all mumbles; she just hoped there was something there left when this was all over...
Olivia reached with a slender finger to lift Tamara’s chin, her eyes narrowed in a dark glare as the interrogator hung on every word for further incentive. “I appreciate your surrender Miss. Lyell, the company will surely benefit from your selfless act. But until then”, she waited a second as the word crawled onto the soft skin of her lips, “more”.
"No, no, no...." Tamara mumbled those words, that phrase, over and over and over again as the woman walked back to her chair and sat back down, her back to Tamara. "Stop, please....stop; I'll tell you everything you want to know, just please make him stop," Tamara cried out, her voice racked by coughs. "Please, please.....please," she begged, hoping her words were reaching the cold heartless woman opposite her and not just going in one ear and out the other....
Last Edit: Jun 24, 2018 16:38:42 GMT by Tamara Lyell
Olivia was growing bored, she simply waited to see the broken heart lace onto Tamara’s features in a morbid sense of achievement. She didn’t necessarily live for the next sight of bloodshed or broken flesh but if it rocketed her goals to success she wasn’t prepared to complain. Olivia had to grow hardened, merciless and ruthless to survive the war against their evolved kind. The vocal pleas to stop meant nothing to Olivia, it didn’t tug at her humanity when there were thousands of human lives that could benefit from the terrible onslaught of brutality.
In time she finally gave way to a slither of humanity, only because her schedule slowly pressured her to draw the torturous activities to a stop. Her fingers lifted to the air and the interrogator drew back his punch with excellent reflexes. Olivia kept her gaze steady on Tamara, she stood so close she could almost smell the iron lingering in the air from the blood coating the mutant’s skin.
“Take her to an isolated cell. She doesn’t see the light of day for a month”, Olivia dragged her finger over the swollen skin of Tamara’s eye with a smug look dancing in the recesses or her blue gaze, “If she heals, make her bleed. Leave no room for that defiance to grow and fester”. With the words uttered she felt her lips tilt into a satisfied grin, “One of my agents will be with you soon, don’t spare a single detail in whatever he may ask”, Olivia turned on her heel, grabbed her long coat and walked through the door with a final glance to Tamara. She didn’t bother shutting the door as she left the prisoner alone with the aftermath of insult and torture, she wanted Tamara to feel that essence of being broken and fragile. Olivia did what she came to do, every minor win over their kind was a sprint to success and she basked in the wonderful feeling.
WORD COUNT: ### | OUTFIT: HERE | NOTES: @samuel  
It was over. The beatings were over; as Tamara sat strapped down in that large wooden chair, her head rolled as she tried to focus on the woman who'd beaten her - well, not literally but emotionally, mentally, psychically - the woman standing opposite her had beaten her into abject mental submission. There was nothing Tamara could do; she was beaten... In time she finally gave way to a slither of humanity, only because her schedule slowly pressured her to draw the torturous activities to a stop. Her fingers lifted to the air and the interrogator drew back his punch with excellent reflexes. Olivia kept her gaze steady on Tamara, she stood so close she could almost smell the iron lingering in the air from the blood coating the mutant’s skin.
Seeing her approach, Tamara turned her away in shame, ashamed that she couldn't hold out longer, ashamed that she'd let everyone back at the Xavier School down...but there wasn't anything she could do about it as the woman spoke. “Take her to an isolated cell. She doesn’t see the light of day for a month”, Olivia dragged her finger over the swollen skin of Tamara’s eye with a smug look dancing in the recesses or her blue gaze, “If she heals, make her bleed. Leave no room for that defiance to grow and fester.”
There wasn't anything Tamara could say as the guards came in and took her beaten and battered body out of the chair, carrying her to an isolation cell that was just as big as her regular cell but only had a toilet, sink and stainless steel mirror. "Enjoy your stay, Mutie!" one of the guards called out as the door clanged shut behind her; staggering over to the mirror, she took one look and turned away, sitting down on the hard concrete floor and just shaking her head. I am Mutant Number 217, nothing more, nothing less, she thought to herself, contemplating the life in front of her and just deciding right there to let it go.
Her name? She let it go. Her past life outside? She let it go. Her free will? That too she let go.
Getting up from the floor, she walked back over to the mirror and thought, These too will pass, 217...these too will pass....
