Officer Percival Delaney enjoyed his interrogation protocol, mostly because it involved something that benefitted him greatly, and made words flow out of the prisoner's mouths like a river that had just thawed. Most people frowned upon it. A policeman? Doing something illegal while the convicts could do nothing to fight back? In his eyes, though, if they had already broken the law, why couldn't he as well for the good of the people?
The dimly lit room buzzed with a strange energy as Officer Delaney reclined in his chair, a sly grin on his face that was as charming as it was cruel. He relished in this secret part of his work, fully knowing that the details would never be spilled, not when only he and Stanley, his loyal second in command, knew about it. Most officer's opinions about this kind of thing were the usual "That's just about crossing a wildly dangerous line." lectures. What was a line to them manifested into more of a squiggly little suggestion when he viewed it.
He turned to the already horrified prisoner, a trembling figure who had apparently resorted to a little petty theft to fill his and his family's stomachs. Percival could see the ribs sticking out of his bare chest, a sign that he couldn't even sustain himself in this trying time. What a pity. The younger male's forehead had been attacked with large beads of sweat, trickling down his face and his cheeks. Large shackles clasped him to the brick wall, so tight that they could cut off circulation. In front of him was a broken man, battered with the swords of an unfortunate life.
"Now, now," Percival cooed in a voice that sounded like a mockery of the individual before him. "I'm sure you know the drill. Any cooperation you may give me will lead to leniency. I trust you are familiar with quid pro quo, are you not?" His eyes twinkled, showing off more of their emerald shine.
The prisoner's eyes darted around the room, like a woodcarving, his features of desperation were etched on his face. He considered every option in a split second, before giving up. It was clear that Officer Delaney held all the power inside this chamber.
"I've heard of it, Officer. I have no information to give you, other than the fact that my children are starving. Please take pity on me. It was only a loaf of bread, nothing more."
Percival feigned contemplation, absolutely delighted at the foolish attempts for mercy. They always think they can be forgiven so easily. They think that he will let it slide. Now that, that was a whole other tier of idiocy. Underneath his facade of pleasantness, a darker side of him began bubbling to the surface.
"Pity, hmm." The officer's voice dropped in false sympathy. That's what really sells it, for them. His words were laced with some sort of venomous, sinister delight. "You see, pity is a fickle mistress. It's like a flame. A flame can either warm us up or consume us entirely. One false touch and, well, the truth will sting."
He paused, his eyes tasting the fear in the captive's mannerisms. Smooth, buttery, oh so soft, like a roll from the baker's. A roll that this poor fellow had never even got to swallow. It was satisfying, really, to break someone down. Snapping them in half when their morality was already in two pieces. All for the greater good, of course.
Percival leaned forward, continuing to toy with the prisoner's emotions. The dim light highlighted the shadowy parts of his face, adding an eerie quality to his menacing presence.
"You see, my dear thief, I am not malicious man. I truly do sympathise with your situation. I once had a brother who, like you, was desperate enough to defy all order. His blood stains the rug of my very own office, and every time I see it, I think about how I am good, and you are a mishap. You are evil, the most raw kind, inside and out. And that's all you'll ever be."
The prisoner's eyes widened, like meek prey in front of a sadistic predator. He attempted to pull his hands free from their bindings, but it was a lost cause.
"I won't do it again. I promise. If you claim to have good in your heart, why not help me?" The prisoner pleaded, tears streaming down his face, gushing out like a faucet.
Officer Delaney leaned in even closer, his breath almost touching the other man's ear. The grin on his face never faltered, but his true nature had at last, shone through.
"Oh, I believe you." His voice dripped with a sort of cold quality. "Sadly though, actions have consequences. I cannot just let you walk away without some sort of compensation for your sins."
The prisoner's heart beat loudly as if, it too, was trying to break away. His throat had gone dry, but he continued to sob, pain written all over his face. The squeaky sound reverberated off of every corner in the small, suffocating room.
Percival pressed a finger against the captive's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. He was able to bore into someone's very soul with but a flick of his wrist.
"Oh, my dear fellow, I can feel your fear. Taste it like fine wine. You may not know how yet, but you are just giving everything to me. It's like a transaction. A delicious transaction."
He could feel the other man's searching eyes, trying to see a sliver of kindness in him. There wasn't a drop. There wasn't any chance that he could ever be let free.
"I have my ways of extracting the information I seek. It's a little dance, a waltz of pain and submission. And, if you were educated right, you'd know almost all dancers have partners."
The prisoner's screams pierced the night sky.
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"So Always, You Answer"
الخيال (فانتازيا)Have you ever wondered what it is like to be a villain? Most media shows you the bad things- the newspaper, for example. Headlines such as "Hero saves the day." and "Good wins again." followed by a daring rescue. What dickheads. The real stories lie...
