last words {howl interrogation}

The stench of corrosion was nearly unbearable.

There was a rot in the building, starting at it's center, waves of it travelling like fog through the hallways. Leo was bent over the bathroom sink, taught with sickness. He had been feeling ill since a little while after so many months before. At first, it was good to be here. He felt as if he were doing good work for his country. After sometime, he began to dread the interrogations. It was certainly true that since his sister's murder he disliked the criminals he dealt with but at the same time, Leo was nothing more than a programmed piece of machinery.

He had been taught to despise the people in the districts through audio learnings, as well as visual and sensory. Propaganda had been thrown in his face from a young age, but Leo had never known how to connect to the feelings he was meant to have. Instead of feeling pride for the Capitol, the propaganda had always left him uneasy. Despite the fact that while he was growing up, he had questioned what he was meant to believe, Lilac being taken from him had only proved the point. He was told to hate the people from the Districts. Lilac's death was proof that he should.

He could not understand how beating criminals to within an inch of their lives was giving them justice. He understood that they deserved it, but lately he had begun to wonder just why it was acceptable to take someone's tongue from them when they had stolen an apple, or maybe trespassed two feet onto government property.

He lurched backwards, nearly falling in front of the toilet as he emptied his stomach of the small lunch he had tried to eat earlier. If this kept up much longer, he would have to request some time for sick leave. Guilt left his stomach in knots even if he could not understand what the emotion was. He shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his head against the tiled wall, breaths coming shallow and quick.

"FENWICK," the voice accompanied a knock on the door, "YOU'VE BEEN ASSIGNED CELL A04."

He moaned softly and opened his eyes, feeling the tiniest bit emptier inside than usual. He had no name for the feeling. Lilac had not been around to explain emotions to him for a very long time. Carefully, he stood up and moved back to the sink to splash some water on his face and rinse the taste of vomit out of his mouth. With precise movements, he dried his face using a fresh towel and then replaced his white helmet over his head.

-

He marched in tandem beside the Peacekeeper that had come to assist him. A woman named Alvera, who was known for her temper as well as her mean left hook. The intimidation tactic worked easily. As they traversed the hallways to level 'A', the people in the cells made themselves as small as possible, afraid to be chosen as today's victim.

Despite his growing uneasiness with the orders given to him, it had never occurred to Leo to simply refuse to follow them. in his world, everything was black and white, there were no greys. Breaking the rules was deserving of punishment. If Leo broke the rules he would receive it not only from the Peacekeepers but from his father in turn. He had been told not to disobey and so unquestioningly, he did not do so.

Upon reaching the cell, he waited patiently as Alvera slipped her key card into the cell's locking mechanism. It was this part that he disliked the most. He wasted no time once the cell's door opened, moving mechanically across the room to make sure the criminal did not put up a struggle. The easiest way to make that this did not happen was to kick them before they could. He did so impassively, booted foot finding the rib cage of a boy who couldn't be any older than he was. Alvera rushed across the room and offered her foot to his other side.

And so it began.

He felt nothing but the pain in his stomach as he and Alvera dragged the boy down the hall between them. Sweat dripped down his neck already and he licked his lips beneath the helmet. Spit filled his mouth and for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick again. He grunted slightly with the effort of taking the boy in his hands. Alvera did not seem bothered about letting his body knock against steps and stairs but Leo was more careful. Without meaning to, he lifted the criminal's arm slightly with each step they took, as if to bear some of his weight for him. He was often unconsciously kind, as if his truer nature, the one that belonged to the boy who believed in myths and still questioned things was trying to peek through.

Alvera helped him drag the boy into an interrogation room. A two way mirror was meant to take the space of one of the walls. One Peacekeeper was assigned to watch the other so that they could step in if the one doing the interrogating became too worked up. More often than not, the other interrogator did not step in. More often than not, people died in these rooms beneath the renegade fist of a man or woman performing 'justice'. However, this room was older and only held a security camera in the left corner. Today, Alvera would be watching from the security room on level 'B' while Leo went through the motions of an interrogation. The ending was pre-decided. This was all for show, to break them. Those were the orders Leo had been given since day one.

Crush them until there is nothing left.

At first, Leo had performed his duties with gusto, years of pent up rage over his sister's murder by the hands of an Avox making him brutal. He quickly became known as an excellent interrogator and was moved up to the harder cases faster than most. At first he had been pleased with his assignment but it had quickly lost it's appeal. Now he simply performed as expected, self-hatred breaking him down, eroding him.

They secure him into a chair, it does not take much. The criminal in question does not seem to want to put up much of a fight. Leo does not let this faze him. Teenagers were always trickier than adults. They either turned into children while in this room or they were eerie in their resolve. After they finish, the boy speaks.

"How long do I have 'til you kill me?"

The question is not an unusual one. The way that it is phrased is. He did not question if they would kill him, but rather when. Leo wondered about the boy's mental health. He was rather morbid. Alvera seemed to wonder about it as well but instead of voicing her thoughts, she pulled back her fist and hit the boy in his stomach. Leo watched as she did so. Sometimes the two sparred in the commons and it had taken him nearly two weeks to figure out how to see that punch coming.

She left the boy to Leo, shutting the door behind her as she glided out.

With her exit, Leo began the interrogation. Although it was slightly unorthodox for a detention center Peacekeeper to do so, he reached up and removed his helmet. He had begun to feel claustrophobic as soon as he had put it on, removing it was a relief. With careful movements, he ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down and then placed the helmet down on the table beside him. Slowly, he pulled a form from his pocket and began to read through it, taking his time in order to let his fear grow.

Finally, he turned around to deal with the criminal, reading information off of the form, "Your name is Howl Barnett, you are from the Twelfth District and you are sixteen years of age, correct?"

Fundamentally, there was something wrong with a society that thought it was perfectly normal for a child to kill a child. Leo knew this, it was written in the old philosophy books in the house he had grown up in. It often said that children were the future. Leo had found this idea intriguing simply because their's was a society bent on their very destruction. Everything in Leo's path had been set out to wash his innocence away. He had seen weapons used on those he loved at a very young age and had been handed one when he was even younger. He was desensitized with constant Capitol propaganda in the form of the Hunger Games and had been taught that a twelve year old could kill another twelve year old if given the right circumstances.

Age had never really mattered to Leo.

If he was old enough to grieve, then he was old enough to hurt.

People often had excuses. Leo always listened attentively to them because if his charges found it important to say then he should find it important to listen. Sometimes the excuses were disgusting, they longed to perverted things. Sometimes Leo actually did feel as if he were helping people by putting some people in chains or taking out their tongue. Sometimes he knew that when he killed a man, he was saving lives. Other times it was not as clear. He struggled with it. Given a good enough excuse, Leo could come to terms with what he was doing.

This boy was sobbing into his lap.

Possibly over a girlfriend or something of the like. Leo was not certain, he had not been given enough information. Calmly, he went about his business as the odd boy dampened his pants. On the table beside him was a number of instruments, one of them being a powerful sedative that took about an hour's time to take hold. If given before beginning the interrogation, it would take just enough time to only kick in after the tongue removal so that the patient would feel an optimum amount of pain. The Capitol wanted their Avox to understand that pain was what they had been sentenced to.

Leo thought it was inhumane. However, he could not disobey his orders. He prepared the syringe calmly, making certain that the correct amount was inside, so that it would work properly.

"Who would have died?" he asked calmly, more to keep the boy talking than out of actual interest. He did not allow himself to grow attached to the criminals he dealt with. It was dangerous and Leo knew that they were less than human anyway. Those who ended up here had to do something illegal and most likely violent. They were despicable and cruel things that lived without conscience, or so he had been taught to believe.

He flicked the needle carefully, holding it up to the light in order to double check the amount. An overdose could result in death.

It had never occurred to Leo, underneath all of his layers of hatred, grief and confusion that the people who he was torturing were not made in singular units. He had never been into the Districts themselves, his career had begun here, in the dank and dark of the Detention Center. He'd never seen the criminals origins, and because of that, he had been able to continue to view them as less than human. He had lost the idea, somewhere along the line in his years of training, somewhere along the line in his childhood that once upon a time he had loved someone as much as this boy seemed to.

Leo had had a sister, once upon a time. An older sister, who he had loved dearly and idolized. In his eyes, his sister was unable to do any wrong. Everything she said he believed, everything she did and was, he loved. He'd wanted nothing more than to protect her, and to keep her safe as his father had told him to do. Even now, in this room smelling of fear and sweet, he could remember the scent of her perfume, of her silk dress. The memory of her smile was etched into his brain, cruelly. He couldn't understand why it stayed with him so strongly. He didn't understand why the image of her, lying there, haunted him so horribly. No other memory in his life stayed with him so strongly.

He didn't understand why it hurt so badly, like a wound that wouldn't close. It was just always hurting.

He swallowed thickly and moved out of Howl's field of vision, the feeling in his stomach making him nauseous. He hadn't wanted to think of her today, survival was possible by not thinking about Lilac. Everything was able to be done by doing it mechanically, by not actually thinking. He pressed his free hand to his forehead and breathed heavily. Stop thinking. Stop.

He moved quickly. With speed, but astounding gentleness, he pulled Howl's sleeve up and tied a bit of rubber around his upper arm. He found the correct vein quickly, due to many months of practice and slipped the needle into the boy's arm to inject him with the sedative. He would not feel anything until the sluggish mixture made it's way to his heart. How ironic it truly was that this boy had worked hard to give his sister vials of pain killer, only to have a fortune's amount injected into his arm. Leo's mouth tasted bitter.

"My sister," he said, voice soft and barely audible, "Was the only person that I ever loved." It was as if he were trying to remind himself of where his allegiance lay. He could not pity this boy, just because he had a sister. He was the enemy. He was the criminal, the boy to be Avoxed. He was no better than any of the others, just because he wept for his sister, just because he loved her and wanted to protect her.

But Leo just wanted to understand.

Why it hurt.

She was so present as the boy writhed in his trappings. For a moment, Leo felt near hatred for Howl, who'd made him remember the sweetness in his life even if it was only for the briefest of moments. It was a sweetness that had been stolen from him. Lilac had been killed by an ex-criminal turned Avox from the districts. Leo's job was to make sure all criminals were thoroughly broken before being sent tongueless to the Capitol. He could make sure that no one else was murdered, that's why. That's why I do this. Still, he moved out of Howl's field of vision, having to cover his mouth again in order to regain his senses. The screaming. Maybe the sounds of pain, maybe they were getting to him just a little. Lilac probably screamed Leo, you do this for girls like Lilac.

But she wouldn't have wanted this.

But she's dead.

"I was her hero, Peacekeeper, look at me now."

The statement hit too close to home and he shut his eyes to it, knowing that people were watching from the security cameras, probably wondering why he was being so weak. Normally he went through these things unfazed, fists finding ribs and jaws and ears. He had made blood spring fresh from untainted skin too many times to count, had discovered bruises and broken bones without a word. What was wrong with him today? He hadn't been feeling well for quite some time but it had never affected his work so strongly before. Yesterday he'd beat a child rapist half to death before they stopped him.

Today he can barely look at Howl without feeling sick.

"Should I have watched her die instead?"

He turned back away from the wall, stumbling forwards again. A cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. No. He wanted to shout it at him, no. If he had the chance, if there was anything he could do to get Lilac back, even if it meant he could go to jail for it, he would do it, every single time. If he could just see his older sister again, if he could feel her arms around him, telling him it would be okay, he would cut out his tongue and give it to the Capitol on a silver platter. They could take all of him, they could unwind him fully, piece by piece until there was nothing left. He would give them all of him if he could just see her again.

Tears formed in the corners of his eyes for the first time in what felt like years and he leaned over Howl, pressing his hands upon either side of the chair. "Scream," he told him, voice rough, "Like I am hurting you, do it. Loudly." He waited for the other boy to do as he asked, a plan forming haphazardly in his head like a wild flower in a concrete path.

in all honesty he doesn't have any ideas past this one. He just knows that despite his peculiar behavior over the past few minutes, if anything will put those watching at ease, it is a scream. If screams could be harvested as a natural resource, the Detention Center would be the top supplier. Leo couldn't properly say how many screams he had heard in his time here but lately he seemed to have a constant headache because of it. He winced slightly as Howl screamed, brain moving a mile per moment in an effort to come up with an idea that would save him.

He didn't know why he wanted to save him but he had a sister that he wanted to protect and he could understand that, the weight of loving someone to the point of self-mutilation. Maybe someone like Howl was the catalyst that Leo had been waiting for or maybe he was just tired of feeling like he couldn't breath, the feeling of sinking down deeper and deeper everyday. He was tired of the horrible guilt on his chest, the way his older sister seemed to haunt him with every step he took. Maybe he just wanted someone to protect again.

He had been created to protect, after all.

He stepped backwards, away from Howl and brutally kicked the leg of the chair, angling his body so that in the viewpoint of the camera, it looked as if he were kicking the leg of the prisoner. "Please, scream again," he whispered. Pain shot through his foot but it was barely registered. During this time, he tried to think up a plausible excuse as to why he should be allowed to return home. Truthfully, the head of Interrogations barely ever let anyone return, not unless she was thoroughly satisfied with the punishment that they had received.

More often than note, cleared criminals greeted their loved ones in a body bag.

Facing away from the camera, he grinned suddenly as his mind finally settled on an answer. Perhaps he could achieve the impossible, if he was lucky and Psyche was feeling merciful, he might succeed.

Spinning on his heel, he placed his hands behind his back, feet shoulder width apart and stood straight, staring squarely up at the camera. "I recommend this prisoner be discharged, on rule nine five three thirty-four, due to the fact that he is underage and is physically healthy enough to enter work in the mines upon turning eighteen."

Then he waited, the camera's screen staring blankly down at him, a disinterested god.