These words I've shared

[thepull_mods]

Who: Open Log for all those who let themselves get taken in.
When: September 1st, 1918 and September 2nd, 1918.
Where: Undisclosed barracks at the Missionworth Military Base
Summary: The Military wants answers, and they're hoping you can help give them. Also, there are at least temporary beds. Try and sleep off that hangover.
Warnings: Interrogations will only go as badly as expected.

Though the newcomers haven't been treated as an overall threat, they have been taken to their new location as quickly as possible, and under fairly heavy guard.

Those guarding the newcomers vary between overly interested, and incredibly wary. Some seem to barely be able to hold back asking questions, and some clearly expecting a fight at any moment.

Needless to say, the tension is a bit high.

The newcomers who came quietly (Or at all) are held for the meantime in an empty barracks, bunk beds lining the walls and a bathroom off one end of the hall.

Periodically, a guard will come by and request for someone to follow them to be questioned.

It's likely a good idea to follow. 

Comments

The Interrogation Room

[thepull_mods]

[If you are taken to be questioned you are taken down a long hall to a poorly lit room with a metal table and two chairs. It's hard to see the person on the other side of the table, and the guards who came with you stay at the door. Just in case.

People are brought in one by one.]

[hostage]

[Jesse goes quietly, knowing he's out-powered and out-armed but mostly just interested in obtaining some level of comfort here and knowing that the best way to do that is to get on everyone's good side. He's normally hostile to authority-types, but he's been polite and even friendly while dealing with the natives here. He cracks a few lighthearted jokes with the guards leading him in an attempt to get them to smile, too. And once he's in the room, he sits down and folds his hands and waits for his turn to talk.]

[thepull_mods]

[The man across the table is poorly lit, but when he lays down his file folder, he leans in closer and mimics Jesse's position. It brings him further into the light, but that doesn't seem to help much, as he's not much to look at and almost indistinguishable from any joe on the street. The notes in the folder are clearly visible, but in an almost illegible shorthand. He looks up to the guards over Jesse's shoulder and seems to at least be tolerant of whatever signal he gets from them.]

Let's start with the basics. Tell me a bit about yourself. Name. Age. If you've got any super powered aces up your sleeve.

[hostage]

[He answers easily enough:]

Jesse Pinkman. Twenty-six. I'm a Void. You know, like cancelling out other people's powers.

[thepull_mods]

[The man nods, and makes some kind of addition to his notes.]

And what is it you do, Mr. Pinkman?

[hostage]

I'm a chemist. Pharmaceutical.

[In case they don't know what that means, he adds as an afterthought:]

I make medicine.

[thepull_mods]

[The man gives Jesse a look across the table that clearly says something to the effect of 'I wasn't born yesterday'.]

And you wanna tell me what was a Chemist doing in Whitty's field, at dawn, with a load of other misfits?

[hostage]

[He shrugs. Hey, he has no idea what words were invented in the past century or whatever.]

Well I was kinda hoping you guys would be able to tell me, yo, 'cause one second I was sleeping in my house and the next I was landing face-first in cow shit, and all of us got no idea how it happened we got there.

[ofthursday]

[He's totally quiet when he's called to go with the guards, tentatively following them without any sort of resistance, attention partially distracted from the situation itself by that the world seems to be flickering from normal into hyperactive; senses intensifying, colors going brighter, sounds sharper and clearer, almost like his surroundings are laying themselves out in a display for him to consider. It's happened a few times, before, and he's sure it has to do with what he is--an angel, he's been told--but he can't control it and right now it's just distracting even while it might be potentially useful.

Hopefully he won't annoy the interrogator too badly with both his distraction and the fact that almost all questions are going to get a genuine 'I don't know' in response.]

[thepull_mods]

[The room is empty initially, though moments after he's brought in the room, a rather ordinary man with his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows and a perpetual frown walks in. He's smoking and gestures with a file folder until the guards retreat to proper position. It doesn't look much different than what they were doing the moment before.]

Have a seat.

[The interrogator takes the chair on the opposite side of the table and sits back.]

You want to start at the beginning? Got any powers I should know about?

[ofthursday]

[He watches the man as he enters, as well as his interactions with the guards, and it takes a few seconds after being invited to sit down that he actually does. He's totally tense, gaze downcast at the table, both out of genuine awkwardness and nerves and because he'd been told before how pathetic it makes him look. Sympathy might be useful.]

I don't know. Probably, but I... I don't remember earlier than a month ago. I haven't discovered any powers I might have.

[Except for the one making itself a nuisance at the moment, and that he doesn't need to eat or sleep.]

[therightchoice]

[ Jesse has a bad feeling about this. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say.

He wants Bruce back so much.

Sitting down, he looks down at his hands, the tapping of his fingers on the table looking like the most interesting thing in the world. He waits for the other people to asking questions. ]

[thepull_mods]

[The man narrows his eyes at Jesse for a moment when he's brought in. After Jesse sits and the Guards have settled, he sets his folder down and leans over to put out his dying ciggarrette in an ash tray on the table. It gives the appearance, if nothing else, of Jesse having his full attention.]

Okay, Kid. You want to tell me how old you are?

[therightchoice]

Jesse. My name isn't Kid.

[ Most important thing to start off this conversation, obviously. ]

I'll be twelve this March.

[capax_infiniti]

[There's no better way to get answers than to appear cooperative. And cooperative he is, to a fault... after all, someone as old as he has little point in resisting.

He'll play the game as long as he gets what he needs in the end. He sits and waits patiently, running a few possibilities through his mind though he knows better than to expect too much in advance with this.]

[thepull_mods]

[When Xehanort was brought in, the Man seemed very interested in his paperwork, and didn't seem to acknowledge him or the guards in the slightest. After a long moment, and some careful note taking, he finally looks up and gives Xehanort something of a look over. He clearly doesn't seem impressed, but puts down his notes and leans forward anyway.]

I'm gonna need your name, your age, and....Let's start off with powers and go from there. Do you have any we should know about?

[capax_infiniti]

[Answering the first two question is fairly standard and he does so without much thought. The last question though... he puts on a bit of a grin.]

One doesn't live this long without picking up a few tricks. I suppose the matter is more along the lines of what can't I do?