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Some unlucky bastard had been brought back from Belarus, one of Donnelly's supporters. It had taken all of Lucien's restraint to not just charge into his cell and immediately tear him apart. No, that wouldn't do any good at all, would it? And one look at the old fucker told Lucien that would be over too quickly. So Lucien had him watched in his cell, kept healthy but not comfortable, kept on edge.
He'd gotten bored of that eventually, though. Even as he'd used the time to read up on the Belarus team's reports, familiarise himself with what there was to work with, think about any questions he had - or if he wanted to ask questions. Walking in there and punching the guy in the face would still have made too abrupt a show of things, so instead, after midnight but before dawn, Lucien had the man brought into an interrogation room.
All day, the Imperial son of a bitch has been strapped into a chair, with a blindingly bright light shone in his face in an otherwise pitch black room. No food, no water, no chance to use the facilities. No direct violence, but any time he looked like he was dozing off, somebody, occasionally Lucien, would come in and dump ice water on his head. And all the while, incredibly loud French music, all patriotic songs, was blared into the room, the only thing the enemy would hear.
It's not like the Empire respects the Geneva Conventions, after all, and Lucien never said when he would claim the two minutes alone Jack allowed him with the next Imperial they caught. Right now, he's standing in the observation room, checking to see if the old man looks about to crack!
« Last Edit: Jan 30, 2016 16:39:58 GMT -6 by Lucien Marais »
And here Lucien thought all those buckets of ice water taught him not to fidget! He waits a little longer, letting the environment keep wearing the prisoner down, before he abruptly has the music shut off and walks into the room, sticking to the darkness as his footsteps echo off the floor and walls.
From the darkness, Lucien brings his fist down on Harold's hand, making it denser as it falls so when it hits, it's like a slab of granite got dropped on Harold! Nowhere near Lucien's max, but enough to really mangle an old dude's hand.
"I'm Lucien Marais. Right now, your total cooperation is all that will stop Paradigm from letting me tear you apart. Do you understand?"
"Why you? Did you have some kind of prior association with him? How long have you worked for him? Just him, personally, or were you already Imperial personnel?"
"Why not regular sports, then? People'd be happier with those. If you hated the games, and you earned that 'privilege' -" Lucien sounds sickened as he says that! - "then do something else."
"And each ruler has to do it the same way, or do you know if they have discretion? You get loyalty with bread and circuses better than abuse and bloodshed."