Good Cop Bad Cop

[~The Boss~]

It was hot in the interrogation room, almost as hot as it was outside. The official explanation was that the thermostat was on the fritz, but most people who crossed through here knew it was all part of the Feds' mind games. They wanted to make you uncomfortable, and keeping it hotter than Death Valley in here was just one of their many methods.

A single camera monitored the room, it's electronic eye glowering at the suspect from it's perch in the corner. As in all interrogation rooms, a two-way mirror dominated the front of the room. On the other side of the mirror, the Captain observed the suspect in silence. They'd been after this particular perp for quite some time now. Some said it would be impossible, that it was a fool's errand. The Captain heard all that talk, but he never listened to any of it. And good thing to, because there she was, sitting there in the interrogation room.

She waited patiently, wishing that someone would cool things off a bit in there. The window was open, but no breeze came through. At this point, she was beginning to suspect that they had timed her arrest to coincide with the hottest day of the year, but that was a little paranoid even for her.

The suspect lit a cigarette, gazing at the mirror and wondering who was behind there, watching her like a voyeur. She made a mental note to give whoever it was a good show while she was being questioned, make it worth their while, even though she planned on wasting everyone else's time.

Her smoky gray eyes shifted to the door. She wondered who would be the first to come in and shake her down.

................................

The call had gone out two days ago. One of the most wanted criminals in the Galaxy had just been captured. Grey Fox. AKA Grace Friedman. AKA Jamie Chavez. AKA too many other names to even count.

The circumstances surrounding her arrest were near miraculous and more than a little bit mysterious. Even the Captain hadn't been sure exactly how it had happened. First came the anonymous tip, in the form of a handwritten letter delivered to GFed HQ. Clearly their tipper took great pains to remain anonymous. The letter itself had merely said, "The Fox is in the Henhouse," and gave a date and coordinates: Agamemnon Station the following Friday. Taking the threat seriously and not wanting to chance anything, the Feds did what they usually did in these situations: call Samus Aran. Easier said than done these days, given their shaky relationship, but after some hard-nosed negotiations, the Great Bounty Hunter grudgingly agreed.

Three days later she showed up at HQ with Grey Fox handcuffed in her ship.

What exactly had gone down, she wouldn't say. She'd done her job and was eager to get the hell out of there. The Captain didn't press the issue, but he still needed to get to the bottom of things. So he called in the next biggest guns around. People capable of cracking even the toughest shells.

He hoped they would be able to crack this one.

This post has been edited by The Boss on Jul 17 2007, 12:11 AM

[~Pieboy~]

Daniel Vergeltung liked the taste of raw metal. When you took one of those nice, colored-plastic paper clips and you stuck in your teeth and bit really, really hard, you could scrape its plastic skin off, exposing its pockmarked gray interior. Just like any criminal. You could taste the tang of its metallic, cold skin as it rubbed off on the rough edges of your teeth. Then, you could bend it round and round till it was twisted and grotesque, like a Rodin sculpture, and then snap it.

Daniel Vergeltung always carried a supply of nice, colored-plastic paper clips in his coat.

Just recently, he'd got a call from the metallic underbelly of the Federation. How they'd gotten the hailing frequency of his ship he would never know, but they had offered him temporary asylum and amnesty from his "crimes" in exchange for his services. He'd be free to arrive and depart from a certain prison world. All he'd have to do was interview a certain prisoner.

He'd been sure it was a trap. The Feds just did not do things like that, especially to a feared vigilante who had gotten away with what they considered murder for years and was hiding out on the border worlds so they wouldn't catch up with him. Ever. He'd read and re-read the agreement in hopes of finding a loophole. However, it wasn't until the third read-through that he really, really, really noticed the name of the subject he'd been asked to interview.

Then, he figured, it was worth getting caught.

Grace Friedman. She'd done everything. Small-time thefts, conspiracy to kill high-powered religious figures, innumerable paid assassinations, not to mention everything her galaxy of alter egos had done.

He jumped his ship into orbit over the planet, landed, and was not clapped in irons. The police had been courteous. He was impressed.

But more importantly, he was anxious. He had shed his coat in his small, spartan room upstairs. It was hotter than Hell, and he needed to get to work. He waited in the room next to the interrogation quarters, voraciously chewing a hapless paper clip down. It was his last one. He needed real meat, soon. So he waited in the blazing hall, a wolf ready and willing to devour a Fox.

[~The Boss~]

The Captain watched Vergeltung chewing on his paper clip with an odd curiosity. Everyone had their strange little habits, some endearing, some incredibly annoying. The Captain had yet to decide which column this one fell into.

Normally, Vergeltung was exactly the kind of person that the Captain didn't think very highly of. A vigilante was just a murderer who thought he was on the side of good, in his opinion. However, this was not the time to let personal judgments get in the way of what had to be done. The man had a reputation for being a tough sonofaB!*ch, and he had to respect that. Besides, he had the right attitude, one of dispensing justice without mercy or discrimination, even if his methods were more than a little questionable.

It would take someone just like him to pry the truth out of Grey Fox. A grizzled, intimidating, slightly uncivilized bruiser. The space age's version of the cowboy. Sure the Fox was a sneaky little B!*ch, with an unparalleled reputation for deception and trickery. But how long could she stand up to someone like this? Someone who could quite literally tear her apart.

"Mr. Vergeltung," the Captain said, shaking the vigilante's hand. "Glad you could make it. She's right in there." He indicated the door next to them. A pair of armored troopers stood outside, in part to keep the prisoner from escaping, but also to make sure things didn't get too out of hand in there.

"You can go right in, I'll be observing from out here."

[~beflexor~]

Brute force and indimidation weren't always the way to go. Sometimes you needed subtlety, or grace.

A woman's touch.

It wasn't hard to find Ao'fet, afterall, she worked for the Federation. They created her finely scupted ass and so they owned it.

She stepped into the room Vergeltung had been in not too long ago. There was a row of plastic metal chairs on one side of the room and an old water dispenser without any paper cups left.

She made to go into the interrogation room but was stopped by one of the guards.

"The suspect is currently being interrogated."

Ao'fet sighed roughly, she had hoped to be the first person here. The chances that Fox would spill the beans were higher during the first time, the chances would then be cut in half each time.

"Fine" she said between gritted teeth and pulled a chair right in front of the guards and plopped on it. Her glare switching between them.

[~Arx Fatalis~]

It was a good day. And, damn it all, it was going to stay a good day. Because he SAID it was going to be a good day.

He had just recently caught word of a woman being interrogated in the GFed Headquarters. Name was the Gray Fox. He'd heard of her many exploits before... so many jobs she had done and names she had taken everyone had lost track. The call for an interrogation, though, asked for outside assistance.

Perfect.

Another ship pulled into the GFed landing bay. Out of it stepped Faulias Khayorn, grinning his damnable grin, as usual. "Let's see the subject..."

Walking in, he saw that there was already someone inside, with their own interrogation methods. In front of the door guards was a woman, whom had also seemed to miss her chance to be the first inside. "You know, they're not going to let you in any faster if you're sitting right in front of them."

"In fact, you're helping them... just giving 'em something nice to look at." He laughed, then took a chair, and gently attempted to sit down. The chair groaned in resistance, but nothing broke, luckily. Now, to wait until his turn...

[~Scout~]

Siral didn't normally go places without simply appearing there, but he figured that the feds wouldn't like it if he just appeared in the middle of the waiting room. So he walked. Or rather, he floated. It didn't really matter which term was used.

He came in and sat down, seeing that the interrogation room was closed. He would be called when it was his turn.

There were two people. One was a man, one a woman. He didn't care about their names or where they were from right now, although he always enjoyed a conversation. Siral had other priorities at the moment.

He would talk only if talked to.

[~beflexor~]

Ao'fet fought the urge to give the newcomer the bird, she tipped her chair far enough back so she could see him, albeit upside-down.

"You're just jelous because you're missing out."

When Siral stepped in, Ao'fet's chair tipped over and she spilled onto the floor. The woman quickly jumped back up. "Holy shit, you look like you just jumped out of a Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual!" She hesitated "...should I roll for initiative or something?"

She turned her chair so it faced the both of them, not noticing the almost disappointed change of stance from the guards.

"So what's your stories? No, lemmie guess." She pointed to Faulias "you're an ex-con with nothing left to lose, except for the fact that you have a grandson in the Federation and you're working to keep him safe from harm." She pointed to Siral "you...damn!" Ao'fet burst out laughing "you're just nuts! I've heard the term 'smoke and mirrors' but you're almost the physical representation of it. Tell me, have you ever considered the Federation as a job? I'll bet you'd make a really kickass clandestine."

Ao'fet clapped her hands "oh, oh we need names. I'm Ao'fet, just that, they didn't bother with a last name."

[~Scout~]

Siral ignored the comment about the monster manual. However, when he heard the comment about smoke and mirrors, he would have grinned if he had a mouth. He materialized an arm, wisps of shadow coming together to form it from seemingly nowhere.

"You know nothing," he said almost pleasently. "My name is Siral, and I have come to interview the prisoner."

The arm disappeared.

[~Arx Fatalis~]

"So what's your stories? No, lemmie guess. You're an ex-con with nothing left to lose, except for the fact that you have a grandson in the Federation and you're working to keep him safe from harm."

"Ex-con? HAH!" Faulias's mosterous outburst of brief laughter echoed in the room for a second. "I work for the highest bidder, a merc. Been through all kinds of crap, from simple guard duty to, well, we like to call them 'planetary purges.' When an entire planet is deemed criminal. Doesn't happen much."

"As for the grandkid? Don't have one..." he trailed off and looked around before continuing, "Well, not one that I know of. But... things happen, heheh." He shifted in his chair, and it cracked and moaned in opposition. He listened and watched as the thing known as Siral introduced itself. There was a moment of silence as he finished, and Faulias took the opportunity to spark another conversation. "So, miss Ao'fet, what's your tale? We've spilled the beans from our end, now it's your turn."

[~Pieboy~]

Daniel Vergeltung bit his last paper clip in half as he stepped into the room. He sniffed the metallic, tangy, smoky, sweaty air. People said he could smell fear, and it was true to an extent. He knew when a subject was just about pissing their pants with apprehension. He knew how to take the smallest spark of fear and turn it into a raging wildfire of sheer terror. His subjects frequently spilled the entire story once he brought out his thumbscrews.

Well, he did not have thumbscrews at this point. And Grace Friedman, he had to admit, had given him very, very little fire. He'd only dealt with insane serial killers who were this smug in interrogation.

She just sat there, a blank, faintly mocking look on her mildly pretty face. He strode up to her chair and looked down at her.

"Grace Friedman, I presume," he murmured, keeping his eyes wide. "Alias Grey Fox, et al. You have no idea how much I've given for the chance to be here with you today."

He let himself sneer. "We're not so different, you and I. We're both criminals in the eyes of the Federation. We've both been forced onto the fringe, living under assumed names, and we've both built up considerable reputations."

He bent down, his face an inch from hers. He clicked every syllable out like a dungeon's door closing.

"The difference, of course, is that you're a sick, mercenary assassin lowlife with a moral code that looks like a checking account. And I don't even feel like I need to speak for myself around you. I'm not going to wax poetic here, but suffice it to say that scum like you should be culled from every planet in the void. And if I could sit back and listen to all your screams individually, I'd laugh and laugh."

He straightened and smiled. "Now, we've got an introduction out of the way, and we've established that I despise everything about you. Why don't you introduce yourself, Miss Friedman? We'd so love to hear about you."

[~The Boss~]

(OOC: Edited the first post to add a little detail about where Grey Fox was when she was popped. Minor, yes, but it gives you guys that much more context.)

"Well, since we've already established that names mean very little to me, not to mention the fact that you apparently know several of mine... allegedly... I don't think an introduction would serve much of a purpose now, would it?"

Grey Fox stubbed out what was left of her cigarette in the ashtray and promptly lit up another. "So now that we've established that, allow me to point out everything wrong with what you said.

"First of all... my name ain't really Grace Friedman. But you probably already knew that. Besides, I'm Apache, not Jewish, so you figure out which name rings more true. Two... who the hell ever said I was forced to the fringe, hmm? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like it on the fringe and exist there on my own volition?"

She stared directly into Vergeltung's eyes, trying to get a sense of the man. She felt she knew him already, knew his type anyway. Testosterone flowing through his veins like Niagara, very proud of his weapon (and she wasn't thinking about a firearm). In other words, a typical man. But there was something else in there as well.

"You're one sick F@*k aren't you?" she said, her signature smug grin creeping across her lips. "You're enjoying this a little more than you should. Kinda creepy if you ask me."

She took a drag and demonstrated her skills at blowing smoke rings. It was a talent she'd learned quite by accident, after wondering how people did it for so long.

"I've got a question for you though. You said I've got a moral code that looks like a checking account. What the F@*k does that even mean? And what the F@*k do you know about my moral code anyway?"

[~Pieboy~]

Daniel smiled coldly. She was going to be a tough nut to crack, but that was the fun.

"Well, as we can both tell, you have to be on the fringe, because if you venture too far into civilized space, well..." he gestured around the room.

"And yes, I am enjoying this. The only thing I could possibly enjoy more is having caught you myself, because then I wouldn't have had to be legal about this. And you don't get to call me a sick F@*k, sorry, because you're the one who'd kill your own mother for money. Hell, for all I know, you have. And don't tell me you wouldn't have fun doing it. I've hit so many of you in your act that I know how you grin. It's a thrill. Don't even try to lie about it."

He sized her up before answering her question. It was funny to finally meet Grey Fox. He'd heard so much about her, heard her spoken of in awe, fear, and wonder, put up on a pedestal as the ideal criminal. And here she was: short, unassuming, and captive. And yet, he could tell, behind her eyes lurked a self-assured, poised, perfect psyche.

But that was exactly the problem. The bigger you were, the harder you fell. She was self-confident in the extreme. And being caught like this, stuffed in a cell, after all her exploits, poked small holes in a psyche like that. And those holes were like those in water balloon; they spewed for a moment, and then the whole thing burst. She wasn't perfect. And under all those personalities, all that invented history, something very small and very, very significant was panicking.

"Sorry, I didn't know you weren't aware of all the money you've taken for those assassinations," he said. "Either that or you're just really bad at metaphors. What I mean to say, although I feel like I've made myself limpidly clear, is that I think you're disgusting and I'll never have any respect for you, because you take money to kill people. Anything to say before we begin in earnest?"

[~The Boss~]

"As a matter of fact, I do have something to say."

Grey Fox sighed, set the burning cigarette in the ashtray, and looked up at her inquisitor. Some of the things he was saying bothered her... mostly because they simply weren't true. But also the fact that he would even assume those things about her. It further reinforced his assertion of how little he thought of her.

Then again, she didn't think too much of her either.

"Say what you will about me," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "And you've said a lot already. But at least I'm honest with myself."

She didn't smile this time. Her face was a stone mask, though it wasn't hard to divine the sort of emotions that lay underneath.

"I know what I am. I've known what I am since I was a teenager, and I've never tried to hide from it. I embraced it, followed the path that life set out for me, and never once tried to delude myself. You, on the other hand, you're completely delusional.

"You're so eager to pass judgment on me... as if you've never killed a man in your life. As if you don't take money to inflict pain and death. You hide behind this veneer of legitimacy, try to dress it up like you're only going after bad people. And you've managed to convince yourself that you're really one of the good guys... some kind of big goddamn hero cleaning up the Galaxy like you're motherF@*king Wyatt Earp. But the truth is you're just another thug for hire. A self-delusional thug who can't face up to the fact that he's no better than the people he professes to hate."

She extinguished the cigarette, considered lighting another, then decided against it. She set down her lighter and wiped the sweat from her brow, which was more a result of the stifling heat than nerves, a fact that would no doubt disappoint Vergeltung to no end.

"You know what that makes you Danny Boy? It makes you a hypocrite. A big F@*king hypocrite.

"Now... you may proceed with the Inquisition."

[~beflexor~]

Ao'fet turned away from Siral to hide a smirk. She thought he was going to shake her hand, but it disappeared soon after. Obviously he was flaunting his capabilities. This was obviously a being that could be goaded into showing his many talents.

"Well, Spiral. I can assure you that, while I know nothing about you, that I do indeed know something about other things and, given time, I'm sure we will eventually know more about each other. Already both our minds are processing information about one another. I'm assuming you do have an intelligent mind hidden beneath that cowl of yours." Ao'fet leaned forward a little, her fingers laced between each other and behind her back. Although the movement wouldn't help to see him better, she couldn't help but make the gesture.

In reality, the woman was facinated with Siral. She wanted to see if he was the real thing, an elaborate hologram, or perhaps they drugged her beforehand and he was nothing but a complex hallucination and that the supposed interrogation of Grey Fox was just an elaborate test.

Given her upbringing, she wasn't willing to discount anything.

Faulias's outburst actually make Ao'fet start, and she unconsiously put a hand over her swiftly beating heart. She had nearly forgotten the other person in the room. "Well, given your appearance" her eyes trailed up and down the massively built figure before her "I'll be sure to avoid previously said crimminal planets."

Before, her tone had been sarcastic and mocking, though throughout her response to the vague revilations to their personage, her tone had calmed and become more serious, almost caring or concerned.

"Well, alot like you" she looked to Faulias, sitting nearly upside-down in her chair, her black hair cascading down to the floor "I'm a sort of mercenary. Except that my bidders all work in the Galactic Federation. My name means 'assassin' in a dead language, but I do far more than just point-and-kill. Originally I had been created in a Federation lab less than five years ago to assassinate-" Warning, came a voice in her head, you are revealing classified information. Ao'fet ignored it and continued "-another Fed experiment. I figured out that had been my only purpose and that I was to be destroyed afterwards. I decided to let the higher ups know that wasn't going to work out for either me or them. They took a hint and now I go about doing other missions for them. I never have met my original intended target, don't know what I'd do if I did though."

There, something to soften their idea of her. She was just another poor Federation Tube Baby for all they knew. They knew who she was, they didn't know what she was. Sometimes what people didn't say was what truly spoke volumes.

She could only wonder what volumes Fox would be speaking.

[~Pieboy~]

Daniel smiled, even though he seethed inwardly. He got this bullshit all the time from his smarter subjects, and it stung every time. Not because it was true, but because they dared to insinuate that he was anything like them. Usually he could just shoot them at that point. Tragically, this was not the case here.

He realized, vaguely, that she was right to an extent. He had opened the interrogation by saying he wasn't very different from her, and now he was getting pissed when she said exactly that. He was a hypocrite, to an extent. But that first remark had just been an opener. This was real, and he was annoyed.

"We're different for one key reason: you kill for money and fun, and I do it because it needs to be done. Somebody has to wipe scum like you out, and that's what I've taken upon myself to do. I enjoy my work not because I'm killing people, but because I'm removing stains from society," he said, as casually as he could manage.

She was starting to sweat. That was a good sign.

"Now," he sneered, "Let's get underway here. To start off, why don't you tell me a little bit about what you've done in the Knights? I'm terribly interested."