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| - A dimly lit ray shield separates the inside of a prison cell from the outside. Located deep within the bowels of the Audacity, Wolf finds himself on the negative end of a prisoner's cell. The entire block cleared save a mirrored window behind a small chair with a datapad, the door opens and in walks Raxis. In full uniform with no sidearm, he pads into the cellblock and takes a seat at a chair. Turning on a recording, he regards the prisoner. "Commander Seifer Wolf..." He addresses, looking through the rayshield at their prisoner. "...I've been directed to you today to ask you some questions." Wolf's Imperial attitude was shining through at it's best, a snide lip lifted itself to the 'Rebel Scum' and he didn't say anything in return. The man didn't /know/ anything sensitive to the Empire. He was a pilot, he didn't care for secrets and all that jazz. He was there to kill. He looked down at himself in the cell, he couldn't believe he'd been brought down to this. Ten years in the Empire and they probably just marked him off as KIA. He sat back in his chair, his flightsuit tattered, torn and scortched. Pain raced up through his body as the various wounds stretched and swivled with his movement. Behind the mirrorglass, another figure sits. Lance Corbet, Flight Officer, and pilot of Ghost Six, watches calmly through the glass at the interrogation room. He seems a little on edge, shifting back and forth upon the stool provided him, apparently unable to find a comfortabkle position. Yet, his eyes remain fixed upon the scene beyond the glass. "Cigarette?" Raxis offers, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and brandishing a lighter. "I'd have to light it for you and pass it through the lunch slot, but it's a cigarette nonetheless..." Raxis adds, pausing to watch Wolf quietly. After a long moment, he begins his interrogation. "Commander Wolf. I don't think that I have to paint your curiosity much with your current situation. You have been taken prisoner by New Republic Fleet Ops and are as of current considered a prisoner of war. However this session involves conversation. I am a pilot. I was there in the space battle that claimed your capture. So as one pilot to the next, let us speak for a moment as officers. Shall we? I cannot help your situation if you do not speak with me." Wolf looks up to the man as he offers him a Cigarette. He nodded slowly and waited for the cigarette, taking it from the lunch tray and puffing on it, Letting the smoke enter the cell. "I don't know anything. I'm not told anything. I'm a killer, not a thinker." Wolf said, looking up at the man. "There's nothing for me to say if you want sensitive information. You'd get more out of an ISB agent." A smile creeped up his face, as he knew an ISB agent would rather die then say anything. "Talk then." Wolf said, replying to the man. Seemingly giving up on the seat, Lance stands up, pacing in front of the window. Eyes are fixated upon Wolf, the man who so recently brought -him-in to the Imperials. A man who now stands in the place where Lance had stood. A man seemingly without a heart or a care for his predicament. A man who deserves to die. "Well...there is some information you can give me, but we'll get to that in a moment," Raxis replies, lighting a cigarette of his own, he remains seated properly and gives the enemy pilot a measure of respect. "I will say, Commander Wolf, I've gone through my head a few times what I would say to you if we ever came face to face. Not one of my finest performances I'll admit, but we've actually met eachother in a small engagement before. I wanted to meet the man behind the mask, so to speak." Wolf sat there, he didn't know what to say. His previous time in a Rebel cell was all the more stupid then the thought of him joining the NR. "That's me. In the flesh." he said, looking up. "I was serving the Empire. I've never thought of it as being personal. That is a weakness." He stood and stretched his legs, moving around the cell as he drew in the smoke from the Cigarette. Finally having had enough of it, the form of Lance stalks from behind the glass, unbeknownst to those within the other room. Striding swiftly towards the door, the young pilot thrusts his weapon into the guard's hands, ere pressing by before a word of protest can be spoken. With a 'WHOOSH', the door opens, allowing entry for the young man. Features already a mess, a cacophany of scars criss-crossing one another over his face, and eyebrows a good inch or two higher then they were naturally meant to be, they are even further pressed in a scowl as he steps forth, eyes afixed upon the enemy pilot. "How does it feel to be on the other side..?" he asks, venom dripping from his every word. "By the time we're done with you, you'll wish that they'd have shot you out of the sky, instead of taking you prisoner. You'll learn. You'll learn what they did to me, and you'll learn to enjoy it! Because there will BE no release for you!" Standing quickly, Raxis steps calmly in between Lance and the rayshield with a flat look on his face. With a rugged motion, Raxis pushes Lance back slightly and mutters in his ear. "Lance control yourself, man..." Grinning, Wolf looked at him before his face turned sour itself, "Do I look like ISB, to you?" he said, moving closer to the forcefield. "I don't care what you do to me, It was your fault for being so /weak/." Looking through the bars through the top of his eyes. "Yeah, it was my fault that I got captured, but I deserve it for blacking out." He smiled again, "I'm not the one who cut your face up, Lance." He wasn't sure if it would irritate the man by calling him by his name, but he did it anyway. Frowning at Raxis, Lance regardless seems to calm slightly at his words. That is, until Wolf speaks once more. So smug. So snide. So pompous. "Weak?" he asks, his voice raising as he looks beyond Raxis. "WEAK!?" An arm shifts Raxis out of his way, and heavy footfalls carry him closer to the cell. Pausing a mere couple feet away from the forcefield, Lance eyes the man dangerously. "You'd best be glad I can't get in there. Otherwise I'd show you just how -weak- I truly am." With a scowl, Raxis grabs Lance by the back of the shoulders and shoves him back towards the wall with a small burst of strength. Grabbing him by the front of the shirt, Raxis flattens his jaw and speaks to Lance through closed teeth. "Flight Officer Corbet you are going to calm down or I am going to pull rank. Do we have an understanding? This is an interrogation and if you cannot compose yourself I will have you removed." "You're fighter lasted a couple of seconds in battle. You dissapointed me, greatly. It was childsplay" Wolf said, "But I didn't take it personally, I think you need to calm yourself." Wolf was standing so close the field was humming. "I'm not worth anything now, I might aswell walk out an airlock." he said, looking through at Lance. Tossed against a wall, and held there by Raxis, the suitingly named Wildman looks angrily from one to the other. "I can't believe you're -defending- him!" he whispers harshly, though slowly, ever so slowly begins to calm down. Finally, as Wolf speaks, his eyes fix upon the other pilot. "And I'd gladly through you out of one." comments Lance with a scowl. "But then, I'd miss out on being able to blow you out of the sky." Glancing between the two, Raxis realizes his attempt at a meeting and interrogation was slowly crumbling and dying, and was most likely shot out of any attempt to make his subject take him seriously. Making a mental note to deny both him and Lance from future interrogations, he lightly pushes Lance against the wall with a shove of his left hand, and takes a drag off of his cigarette with the right hand. "Commander Wolf," Raxis starts, declining to respond to Lance's comment about protecting Wolf, Raxis blinks a
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