Chapter #18: Interrogation
Kovich watches impassively, studying the young man before him. A bruise is forming on his jaw, and another near his temple. A small trickle of blood falls from the latter, where Ross's ring had broken the skin.
"We need to be careful about his face," he says finally, "we've done enough there. We don't want to ruin our cargo, do we?"
"N-no Sir," Ross stutters.
"We don't want to break anything either," the captain adds.
"No Sir," his stutter is gone. It's been slowly disappearing within the last hour, as Kovich had predicted. He smiles inwardly to himself.
He'd found Ross living in a cardboard box in Washington, D.C., a few months ago. Corporal Jeremy Ross had been declared AWOL overseas and had scammed his way back to U.S. soil on foreign ships. He'd since been declared a deserter and dishonorably discharged. Kovich, playing a tourist while blackmailing a government official, had taken one look at those empty eyes and decided that this man would be his new crewmate. He'd taken the thin, scruffy man to a nearby pub and treated him to whatever he wanted. Ross, full, drunk, and on the edge of a psychotic break, had agreed to join him on the seas.
Being on the run, he hadn't had any counseling. Nothing to assist him in dealing with his PTSD, but Kovich had found something far better than any medicine.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" He laughs, "being on this end."
Ross laughs, the harsh lighting in the room accentuating the dark circles beneath his eyes, caused by stress and a lack of sleep, "Yeah, it does, actually."
"So, what, are you guys going to add to my scars?" Danny puffs from the metal chair he's tied to, "As though I don't already have enough."
Kovich drums his fingers on the back of the chair he's straddling, "I'm sure we'll figure out something interesting," he smiles.
"This client of yours," Ross smirks, pulling a knife from the table, "She won't mind a few scars, will she?" He cuts Danny's shirt off with ease, exposing the bruises that stain his stomach, as well as the other scars that adorn his body.
"So this is what happens to a hero behind the scenes. Tell me, Danny, does anyone in Amity ever worry about you? Do they cry out when you get hurt? Do they worry if you'll get medical attention? Or…" Kovich stands, tracing his own knife lightly across his captive's arm, "…or do they just complain about the property damage and noise? Do they pitch fits about the traffic your fights cause?"
Danny's jaw clenches, and blood beads at the long, light cut across his shoulder. It's not much deeper than a paper-cut, but Kovich's sure it burns.
"How many of them still want to lock you up? How many people ignore the fact that statues of you have been risen all over the world?"
"I've never asked for anything," Danny replies quietly, his voice like steel, "Adulation, fame…I help people because I can. Not to be crowned as a hero."
"Is that really all?" Kovich presses, angling the knife a little deeper. Danny suppresses a yelp in a hiss of breath, his fingers clenching behind his back.
"Hey, every ghost has his obsession," he laughs shakily, "Saving people is mine."
"It's a pretty crappy obsession if it makes you look like that," Ross snorts, using his knife to gesture at the scars across Danny's chest.
"I don't diss your hobbies," he retorts weakly.
"…you know…" the blond begins, "It takes a lot of practice to learn how to cut without severing anything vital," the tip of his knife traces up Danny's other arm, "Especially when you want to cut deeply," he applies more pressure, and the knife slices into Danny's shoulder.
"So…are you going to tell us?" Kovich asks, "Everything. Everything you possibly can about ghosts. But that's a bit too broad, isn't it?" he wipes his blade on Danny's jeans, "Let's start with the Ghost Zone. What's the story of Pariah Dark?"
"He was the King of Ghosts with a zero percent approval rating," Danny quips back, "He was sealed in a casket until Plasmius set him loose."
"And you shoved him back in," he finishes, "But…I'm looking for a little more detail than that, Daniel."
"Don't call me that," Danny hisses, his eyes flickering green.
Ross slams his heel into Danny's knee, earning a bitten-off cry, "He can call you whatever he wants."
"How did Pariah Dark become the King?" Kovich presses you.
"I don't know," Danny coughs, "Why would I?"
"You see," the Russian circles, "I think you're lying. Now why would you do that, Daniel?"
"All I know that it was because he was the biggest, baddest ghost there was. I don't see how that's important," he shrugs trivially, "It's not like you can obtain that position. You're missing the whole…you know…'ghost' part of it."
"So who is the king now?"
"There isn't one."
"Why not?"
"One was enough."
"So why are you called the 'Warrior-King of the Far Frozen'?"
"I'm not the ruler of the Infinite Realms," Danny snorts, "Don't plan to be, either. I still have to graduate high school, go to college, marry Sam, raise a family–" he's interrupted by a punch to his stomach.
"Answer his question," Ross growls.
"The Far Frozen is an arctic wasteland, home to a bunch of yeti. They thrive in cold climates, so when Pariah came back and dislodged them, it was a pretty big deal. I fought him and so they made a shrine to me and call me 'Great One.'"
"So…how does a human become a halfa?" Ramirez inquires from the corner, "That's what I want to know."
Danny's jaw clenches, his eyes guarded.
"Answer him," Ross makes another cut across his shoulder. As the silence continues, he makes another, and another, and another.
"I do not think he plans to tell us," Kovich states finally, observing the shallow cuts down their captive's arm, and the blood dripping to the floor, "Perhaps we'll need some…leverage to get that information?"
Danny, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, raises his eyes, where green flickers in anger. Kovich raises his hand in a signal to Burgess, who calmly moves closer with a stun-gun like object.
"Make sure he's fully depowered," Kovich orders, "Ramirez and I are going hunting again. Maybe he'll be more willing to talk when we get back."
"I thought I told you–" Danny cuts off, his back arching as the current flows into his body. He slumps over a few seconds later, his breath ragged. His eyes are ice-blue, without a single slicker of green.
"Have fun, Boss," Burgess yawns.
"Always," Ramirez smiles.
A/N: Tuck and Val next time! …which MIGHT be tomorrow. MIGHT being the operative word here.
Have any of you watched the original cartoon of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"? You know the face he makes when he gets his "wonderful, awful idea"? That's how I feel when I read your reviews after leaving you with a cliffhanger like last time. }:-}
To the reviewers I haven't seen before now: welcome, and I'm glad you're enjoying my story! ^^ It makes me happy. Side note: From now on, I will be highlighting 3 reviews from the chapter. From Ch. 17:
KodiakWolfe13, for embodying every fangirl everywhere. :D
The Talent, for your detail!
And Lass Luna, for joining the insanity! ;P
However, another mention for WhiteWinterStar for being able to wish for no torture and not be sarcastic. Sorry. It's happening. I'm a jerk to characters like that. You should see what I do to my OC's. Cyrus's life sucks…in a bittersweet way…after a point…