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

[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.