A Stroke of Luck ((Marcuss Templing))

"Anyone will say anything under torture." ~ George Galloway

Click. Click. Click. The clicking sound that rang throughout the cell was a combination of the young woman’s nails drumming against the wall and the clicks of the gun in the mentioned woman’s hand. It was only the sound of the hammer being cocked and released, as a solitary finger pulled the trigger and an accompanying thumb pulled the hammer down. The small revolver was not loaded; the owner had been a bit lazy and decided that there would be no point. Plus, there were some bullets in the room as well. All the woman had to do was reach for them and load them into the chambers. But the gun was more of a last resort deal.

Ana Laroche stared at the empty chair in front of her, the one that was soon to be occupied. For this case, she had been told nothing, only that she was to get answers the most efficient way possible. She didn’t know who the person was, the crime, the age…even the gender had been kept from her. Not that it would have mattered; Ana really had no sympathy when it came to the prisoners. Crying girls had always found a way to irk her, and stoic boys were no better. It was a job, a job that Ana needed to complete and she would.

With a sigh, Ana began pacing the small area of the front of the room. She was still waiting for the brutes she called colleagues to bring the prisoner to the interrogation room, where she was going to find a way to wrangle answers out. All she really needed was answers; once she had them, she was free to do what she felt necessary. At times, she would feel merciful and let them rot in their cells until their sentence was served. Other times…the prisoners were not so fortunate. But in Ana’s eyes, they were all rule-breaking idiots who deserved to be punished no matter the crime. She had learned that lesson a long time ago.

“Uh, hello? Am I supposed to just stand here and do nothing?” Ana muttered to herself as she resumed drumming her fingers. She had forgotten about the revolver, much more preoccupied with finding out who she was interrogating. Her eyes rolled up with impatience as she inhaled a deep breath. She usually did not have to wait long for the prisoner. What is going on out there? Putting up a fight? Escaping? Not cooperating? Dead? Ana closed her eyes, hoping that the other Peacekeepers hadn’t already murdered the prisoner; she would have hated being cheated out of an interrogation. Knowing her colleagues, though, there was a highly good chance that one of them might have thrown a punch that was a bit too strong.

The familiar click brought Ana’s eyes and attention to the door. Ah…finally. Two other peacekeepers were dragging a young boy into the room. A long stare was enough for Ana to answer some of her questions. He was a boy; he looked around mid-teens, not yet 18; and if anything, he looked a bit deranged. Then again, who didn’t look that way after being stuck in a cell? No sympathy reached Ana’s heart, though. A young boy who was in the detention center obviously must have done something wrong. “Thank you. Just leave him there,” Ana said with a nod to the chair that was soon to be occupied. She didn’t bother watching them shackle the boy to the chair; she could already picture it in her head. Instead, she kept herself preoccupied by picking up the empty revolver.

A cold-hearted smile lifted the corners of Ana’s mouth as she stared at the metal weapon. With a quick spin, she turned around, training her eyes on the boy. “Hello. Are you ready to begin?”