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| - Katriel is pressed against the wall farthest away from the psi blocker, knees drawn up to her chest in a vain attempt to shield herself from the effects. People do non-sensical things when panicked. Wide lavender eyes and a chalky complexion are mute evidence that Mystics have similar, if not the same tendencies. The metal door opens and a soldier appears from the room, dragging the limp body of McDowell by his torso. McDowell is soaked in blood, some of it still dripping down the side of his face. A large wound can be seen on his forehead. Fitzgerald appears shortly after, hands folded behind his back. He's grinning pleasurably. As the group passes by Katriel's cell, Fitzgerald looks to her and closes his eyes as he gives a friendly smile to her. The only notable response Katriel gives to the body being dragged out is to try and press herself further into the wall at her back. Unfortunately, it stubbornly remains solid and immobile, and therefore so does she. No friendly smile in return to Fitzgerald as he walks by, her expression frozen into one of fear and horror. Fitzgerald stops at Katriel's cell and leans in, grasping the bars just slightly above his head to brace himself. The smile remains. "Do not worry about him," he says as the soldier continues dragging the corpse to the far cell, "He was insignificant, and therefore, expendable." A few men in the barracks stand at the barred doors looking in. One of them looks on in a mixture of curiosity and disgust and gives only one word in response to the site: "Fuck." The barred door to the cell closes with a resonating clang. Katriel stares at Fitzgerald, breaths rapid and short, hands clenched into small fists at her sides. It seems to take a great deal of effort for her to generate a clear question, the words formed carefully. "Why are you doing this?" "Why?" Fitzgerald says, cocking his head and rolling his eyes to one side thoughtfully, "Why indeed." He stands up from the bars, straightening and folding his hands behind him. "You see, we have a dream," he responds, smiling, "A dream for a better New Luna, and for Lunites. You see, our pleas have gone unheeded by that, that scoundrel governor Seale and the greedy men who are in his pockets. We aspire to regain Luna, but even on that matter, the regime in power has shown no care. No, they do not care for our people, but we do." He puffs his chest, "I am to be a hero to the people of New Luna. Do not look at me as if I'm evil." A small shudder runs through Katriel as she watches the man outside her cell. She's dirty and she's bedraggled, silver locks of hair having dried slowly and without the benefit of brush or comb, leaving a snarled mass of tangles close to her head. "Then don't be evil," she responds, the words slipping out without censure or much conscious thought. Fitzgerald glares at the small Mystic, his face reddening. He bristles. "I am not evil!" he yells at her, "You had best not say such things." He points down the hall toward the cell McDowell was dragged into. "He said such things!" he adds, locking eyes with Katriel in an intense stare, "You see the results of his actions?!" Katriel grits her teeth, hands curling even more tightly into fists, her nails piercing the skin there. "Then stop," she repeats, shaking her head a little against the cell wall. "I see the results of your actions. I just want to go home," she adds, voice breaking at the end as she drops her eyes down and away from Fitzgerald. The soldier returns to stand beside Fitzgerald, looking at him for new orders. Fitzgerald just waves a hand and the soldier relaxes. "Now, my darling, don't be so sad. You were brought here for a purpose," he says softly, "You don't want to go home." He moves back closer to the cell, again leaning and bracing against the bars. "You see, we have been eyeing you for quite some time." The Mystic's eyes are already wide, but they manage to widen a bit more at Fitzgerald's words, lifting once again to look at the man's face. "M-me? Why? I'm not-- please-- I just want to go home," she responds, the words running into each other with a sick sort of deperation. You say, "Are you not happy to know you will be doing something for the good of New Luna," Fitzgerald says, giving a mock pout, "I wish I could to tell you what it was." He gives a chuckle as he turns around and begins pacing. "I will say this: we have a job for you to do that you are well suited to."" Katriel watches the man as he paces, shaking her head back and forth against the wall again. "I can't-- please, turn it off. Just make it stop," she pleads, the motion of her head changing from the back and forth shaking to a rocking movement: slightly forward, then smack against the wall. It's rhythmic and steady, her eyes losing some focus. Fitzgerald sighs wistfully. "Turn it off?" he says, looking to the psi blocker on the wall behind him, "Oh, now I can't be doing that. The yoescu might invade and make a mess out of things." He smiles wickedly. "And you will do this job," he adds, "your survival depends on it." Thump, pause, thump. Fitzgerald has completely lost the Mystic's attention, her eyes glazing over as her focus turns more inward. Reddening and stiffening, Fitzgerald stops moving and looks to the soldier. "Remove her and take her to the interview room." He then spins around and disappears of to the room. The soldier enters the cell, pulling Katriel to her feet when it becomes apparent she's not going to move on her own. She doesn't make it easy, either, so that he has to half pull half drag her stumbling form out of the cell and out to the interview room. Fitzgerald stands in a corner of the room, looking at the chair. "You really must learn to be more cooperative," Fitzgerald says, "If you expect to live long." Dropped into the chair without much ceremony, Katriel looks up dully at Fitzgerald. "I don't. I already died," she whispers, paying very little attention to the chair or the soldier. The soldier begins strapping Katriel to the chair. Fitzgerald moves to the table of tools, glancing over the items. He picks up an electrical device from the table and moves over to Katriel. "I will break you of this silence," he says threateningly, an evil smirk on his face. Katriel stares at the device Fitzgerald holds for a moment and then tears her eyes away to look at the soldier. "Please. Help me," the words are a whispered entreaty, lavender eyes searching the man's face for some hint of compassion. If the soldier holds any compassion, it's not evident. "Help you, Bitch?" he says with a chuckle, "I'll fuckin' help ya...later." He gives a sly wink and blows a kiss. "The only one that can help you here is yourself," Fitzgerald says, "If you would only cooperate, this would go less painfully." Slumping a little in defeat, Katriel closes her eyes for a long moment before opening them again to look at Fitzgerald. "What do you want?" she asks, fear mixing with frustration in her voice and making it ragged. "I want your cooperation," Fitzgerald reiterates, "There is a task we require of you for which you are well suited." He holds the device in his hands and looks at it. "What? What is it you want me to do?" Katriel hurls the question at Fitzgerald, and would apparently punctuate it with a stamp of her feet, were she not already held securely by the straps attached to the chair. Little spots of color have appeared high on her cheeks, her body jerking a little with the ineffectual stamping attempt. "We have something you must work on," Fitzgerald says, "And do try to be still. You'll only grow tired." A small, strangled sound expresses Katriel's frustration with this answer, and she pulls against the restraints in sheer obstinancy. A thin sheen of sweat has broken out along her forehead, and her eyes glitter with unshed tears. "Aww, don't cry now, my pet," he says soothingly, "If you'll only cooperate, this will all go away. It'll seem like nothing but a bad dream." He wiggles the device in his hands and finishes with, "If you don't settle down and cooperate, well... Let's just say I will enjoy this more than you will." Maybe it's just contrariness, but there really doesn't seem to be much fight left in the Mystic as she begins to sob. "I don't know what you want," she reiterates, tears slipping down her cheeks, shoulders shaking. "We need you to fix a weapon of ours," he says cooly. He steps to stand beside Katriel and tenderly puts his hand on her shoulder as if to comfort her. "It's been malfunctioning." Katriel flinches away from the contact, not that she can get very far. "I can't..." she shakes her head a little, "I can't think like this." It's both a statement and a plea. Fitzgerald pouts his lips. "I do hate to hear that," he says somberly, though he's smirking all the while. He brings the electrical stun device to the Mystic's shoulder, keeping his other hand on her. "You may soon see it my way!" "Stop-- Stop!" Katriel is yelling and pleading, flailing uselessly against the bonds holding her in place, not even certain exactly what it is that's about to happen, just very convinced she won't like it. Fitzgerald clicks a button on the device sending a light shock into the Mystic. "Do you wish you aid us?" he asks. Katriel flinches from the shock, muscles flexing briefly and then releasing. "I'll help," she yelps, shaking her head at the same time. "Now that's my girl," he coos, "I knew you to be a reasoned individual." He takes the device off her shoulder and turns to place it back on the table. "In the morning, you shall assist do your job," he orders, then turns to the soldier in the room, "Put her back in her cell." The praise generates a look of pure revulsion from Katriel, who watches Fitzgerald as he puts the device away. Her lips move, but she's stopped actually voicing the words she wants to say. They don't help anyway. Stumbling and shuffling along, Katriel tries to keep as much of herself away from the soldier/guard as she can as they make their way back to the cell. Her cell.
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