NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: I'm looking for someone to help me with this. It's a day in a Burnsian prison, and I'm trying to illustrate the policies of the new government. Anyone want to be the prisoner? (Good RP-ers with good spelling and grammar only :))

OOC:

::Raises hands HIGH!::

OH, OH, OH! ME, ME, ME!

OOC:

::Raises hands HIGH!::

OH, OH, OH! ME, ME, ME!

Um...I not able to do it, nvm...... :(

:;cries helplessly::

I'm an experienced RPer. If you would accept my help...

bump

Hold on a sec.

OOC: As long as my guy gets to be uber-eccentric (like myself) ;)

Can I RP the torturer/executioner?

TBD and I have somewhat discussed this, I'm fairly certain I'll have a role in this... I'll want to be a Pro-Fabus Monarchist, and maybe a few army officers from the Army William Fabus was working on building, the "Royal Republican Guard". Also his secret police, the "National Security Services" NSS and the "International Police for State Defense" (IPSD)

I'd rather have just a normal prisoner, maybe an anarchist/monarchist that isn't as fanatical as some of the characters I've encountered. Maybe just a normal guy with a family, who disappeared in the middle of the night.

OOC: I TGed you with and idea.

bump

Still considering who to choose.

I guess I'll do it with DA. DA, please post a starter thread when you're ready.

A man, well more a boy, little older than eighteen, sat in a dark and stinking cell in a TBD prison, well dungeon described it better. He had been a member of the "International Police for State Defense" (IPSD), a secret police organization established under the Fabus monarchy. He wasn't a Burnsian by birth, by birth he was a Mississippi.

Born and raised in Mississippi, but he had Mississippian citizenship and Burnsian citizenship, he wanted to help spread the white ideal to other lands. When the Fabus regime started in TBD, he moved there and got a job with the newly formed IPSD, rising rapidly through the ranks until he made the rank of district commander for the city of Hans. Now he lingered in a jail cell, he'd thus far not said a word, nothing, not even his name. He sat and pondered what his fate might be.

He was ready to die for the white ideal and for Mississippianism, if necessary, but he didn't want to die, he wanted to live, he had so much he wanted to do. If he survived this, he vowed he would do what he'd always wanted, join the Mississippian airborne army and get into a parachute infantry division.

OOC: As long as he's not an uber-fanatic.

IC:

Security Booth, Block C

A uniformed guard, in his standard green, pointed to a monitor that hung on the wall. The screen was one of many, forty in fact, that monitored each prisoner in his or her cell. The one he had selected, however, showed a young man, sitting on his cot and holding his head in his hands.

"That's the one. He's getting sleepy. Turn on the speakers."

Cell 24, Block C

Two speakers, protected from an inmate attack on the roof and covered by a grate, activated. From them sounded the most unnatural sound on earth, a combination of shrieks and grating, almost guaranteed to send a man into convulsions.

He started to shout, "STOP THAT! GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE! I'LL TELL YOU NOTHING! NOTHING!"

He started to sob quietly after a few minutes, keeping his knees pulled tight against his chest, resting his head on them, trying to cover his ears with his hands.

Security Booth, Block C

The guard hit the sound button again, giving the prisoner a temporary reprieve from the cacophony. Smiling sadistically, he flipped a switch on the board labeled "water".

Cell 24, Block C

Slowly, starting with a small snap, the main drain at the bottom of the cell that the prisoner had been using as a toilet (no facilities were supplied in the cell) reversed, sending gallons of water back up into the cell. The waters would stop just above head level, making the prisoner have to tread water for long periods of time.

The man laughed, "I'll just sink into the water and drown, then you'll get nothing out of me, ever! You took my belt and the laces from my shoes, but now you give me this wonderful way to die!"

He sank down into the water, hoping they'd not call his bluff... He struggled to keep himself down and from floating back up. Before he knew it, forty-five seconds had gone by. He waited...

The guard laughed to his friend, "This joker doesn't know what he's saying. It's a human reflex to preserve yourself... the brain won't let itself die, especially if it's self-induced and something that's so easily solved. Activate the shockers..."

The guard pressed another button on his control panel, activating an electronic shock in the cell. Not enough to kill, but still enough to cause extreme pain.

The man started convulsing from the electrocutions, but he struggled all the harder to hold himself under the water level, at least two minutes had gone by now, and the guards could be fairly certain he wasn't bluffing... Although he was, they just didn't know it for sure.


He flipped back and forth from the shocks as he focused all his efforts on keeping his hands pressed tight against the wall and his legs pushing against the ceiling so he'd stay under the water.

"Damn, this guy's devoted. Drop the water level and ready the transport team outside his cell. I want him in Interrogation Room Five, ready to go in ten minutes."

As the water started to drop, the man sighed in relief, a few seconds later he was sitting on the floor of his cell, soaking wet and shuddering and shivering from the pain of the cold water and the electricity.

Hallway, Block C

Suddenly, the door slammed open in the prisoner's face, causing his nose to bleed profusely and knocking him out. Five men in riot gear slapped shackles and handcuffs on him, connecting the two binding devices at the chains with a further set of shackles. Completely immobilized and unconcious, he was whisked down the hall towards Interrogation Room Five.

Interrogation Room Five, Block D

The prisoner was slapped awake by a man in a black suit and sunglasses, kicking him in the stomach with a pointed-toe loafer.

"Wake up, you little squelcher. What is your name?"

The man smiled, "Mickey Mouse... My name is Mickey Moose... My commanding officer is Donald Duck, and his commanding officer is Bugs Bunny..."

The interrogation officer screwed up his face, not having watched cartoons as a kid.

"Those aren't Mississippian names, retard! Tell me your name, NOW!" he took a knife and cut a small slit down the prisoner's arm, slowly dragging it. Then, he took out a 'sting pen' which sealed the wound but caused extreme stinging pain.

"What's your name?!"

The man struggled not to scream in pain, he tensed his arm up and started to sweat... "My name is... My name is..." He couldn't think of anything to say so he just hocked back a wad of spit and spat right into the man's face, landing a good deal in his eyes.

The man calmly wiped the spit from his eyes, flicking it back into the face of the prisoner. He walked behind him to increase his sense of anticipation. Taking a red cloth from behind him, the officer tied it around the man's head. Reaching into a hip holster, he withdrew a taser and walked toward the door. Hoping that the prisoner would think that he was leaving, he opened and closed the door.

bump

The man frowned, "What are you doing?" he anxiously asked.

The man stayed silent, and silently sat down in a chair. He wasn't ready to wait. He flipped a switch in the room, shutting off all the lights. Then, he inserted a pair of earplugs into his ears. Finally, he slowly and quietly pressed a button next to his chair.

The sounds were even worse than before.

The man jumped in his seat in pain, but was held down by his restraints. He started to scream, "Stop, stop, I'll tell you my name! stop..."

The man let the noises go on for several more seconds, shouting, "What was that? I couldn't hear you..."

The man shouted, "I said I'll tell you what you want to know... Just stop that, now, please..." he started to meekly sob, "stop.. stop.. please."

The man shut off the noise and walked behind the prisoner. Removing his earpulgs and leaning down close to the man's ear, he whispered,

"What... is... your... name...?"

The man struggled to speak, coughing up a small amount of blood as he did finally manage to choke out the words, "Thompson, George Thompson, rank captain..."

"What division... what company..."

bump for reppy

"What division... what company..."


The man shook his head, "No, I was in the International Police for State Defense, the IPSD, the secret police, you know, yes?"

"Of course I know," snarled the officer, slapping the prisoner across the face. "Don't talk to me like I'm stupid. What are you doing here in the Desert? More specifically, the tavern where you were... kindly asked... to accompany the troopers? Answer quickly," the officer said, grabbing hold of the man's ear.

He held back the urge to scream in pain... He nodded, "I moved here when William Fabus rose to power... I was a secret police captain under his regime... I am a TBD citizen as well as a Mississippian citizen..."

"What operations did you carry out..." asked the officer harshly, keeping a firm hold on Thompson's ear.

The man gasped in pain, "Stop that, I'll tell you, just stop that..."


He sighed, "Assassination of domestic opponents to the regime, interrogations, surveillance, reconnaissance operations, extraction of confessions, disappearing political enemies... You know, the usual."

The officer let go of Thompson's ear. Walking behind him, he silently drew a Magnum .50 revolver. Holding it to Thompsons head, he asked, "I have one final question for you. Answer correctly, and you'll live. Answer wrong, and your brain will have to be dry-cleaned off of my suit. Who were your confederates?"

He gasped, and then sighed, "They all managed to get out before the collapse of the Fabus monarchy, so it really makes no difference if I tell you who they are, unless you just want to know for official records... I mean, of course you can kill me, but I'm not holding out, they honestly are all out of TBD, except for perhaps one or two who are now working at the Mississippian embassy, well base is more like it, as advisors..."

"Base? Tell me more."

He frowned and sighed, "It's pretty much common knowledge, our multi-hundred thousand acre embassy compound is nothing more than a military base and a garrison, isn't it? Duh! Granted we do have an embassy there..."

The officer boiled over in rage. Taking his shoe off, he hit the man repeatedly across the face and screamed at him, "IF I WANTED YOUR QUICK MOUTH, I WOULD HAVE ASKED FOR IT, SWINE!! NOW WHAT IS GOING ON AT THAT BASE?!"

He smiled, "Well yesterday, colonel Daffy Duck yelled at general Bugs Bunny, until field marshal Bart Simpson intervened and told them all to get along and play a nice game of Candy Land."

"What...? Candy Land? Is this a strategy-enhancing game? TELL ME NOW!! DON'T MAKE ME HURT YOU!"

He smiled, "Well first they all played GI. Joes and captured the pretend base within ten minutes, overrunning all the desert dwellers... Then we worked on the model of the star destroyer and the death star... May the force be with you."

He took the taser he was holding and fired it straight at the man's face, the two CO2-accelerated pinions sinking deep into his face, releasing huge amounts of electricity right into the Thompson's nose. The agent also reinserted his earplugs and turned the noise back on. Finally leaving the man in torture, Agent Blackworth stepped out into the hall and took a seat, watching his favorite hour-long television show on the hallway TV.

After an hour of the horrible torture, the man was nearing collapse, physical and mental... He was hoping they'd return shortly and stop it.

OOC: no time now, reppy later :(

OOC: no time now, reppy later :(


Ooc- It's later.

OOC: Yea, I know, don't rush me...

After an hour of the horrible torture, the man was nearing collapse, physical and mental... He was hoping they'd return shortly and stop it.

The agent, turning off his television, walked into the room calmly. Carefully removing the taser pinions in the most excruciating way possible, the agent turned off the screaming once again, asking,

"So... who's at that base and what's going on?"

The man looked up, hurting too bad to reply, he coughed out a meek one word sentence, "Water..."

The agent slapped the prisoner again.

"WATER?! YOU THINK YOU DESERVE WATER?! I SHOULD PUT YOU ON ICE AGAIN JUST FOR ASKING! YOU'LL GET WATER WHEN I FEEL THAT YOU DESERVE IT! Now, what's going on at that embassy? I won't ask you again!"

The man struggled to open his mouth, he was too parched to talk, he coughed meekly and shook his head, motioning for water.

"Water? Hell, I'll give you water..." he walked out of the room, slamming his palm against a red button and closing the door harshly behind him. As soon as he had left, two extremely large men waltzed through the door and carried Thompson, chair and all, through the door to a room marked "Water Information Extraction Room". Latching his chair onto a lever-like device over a pool of water, the agent stepped up to a panel near the side of the pool. Scanning the panel quickly, his eyes caught the sight of one black button marked "down". He pressed it, and down the prisoner went.

The man shook his head signalling that he wanted to talk, but was in too much pain to do so... He frowned and motioned with his hands for them to get him some pen and paper, he'd write answers to their questions.

The man motioned to the guards, who ripped the man off of the lever, dragging him through the halls. The agent walked silently behind the exhausted prisoner, occasionally stepping on his toes. About 500 feet down the hallway, the guards made a sudden turn into a large set of double doors. Through the enterance was another set of doors, and finally, a large oak one. As the man entered the room, he gazed in amazement at all the wonderful paintings on the walls, the warm, cheery fireplace, the cedar paneling on the sides of the room, and the four very plush couches in front of the fireplace. After having undergone such horrible torture, the prisoner couldn't wait to lay down.

The guards plopped the prisoner down on a couch, with the agent sitting across a coffee table from him. Then, the guards retreated to the only enterance, the large oak door, and stood on either side. The agent handed the man a large glass of cool, premium Irish spring water, a box of stationary, and a Bic ballpoint.

"Now," he said, "What's going on at that base?"

He wrote down, "IG Virus research, advanced chemical weapons research, MiG-49 Kluxer research, MiG-55 Super-Kluxer research... Mach 7 and Mach 8 engine research. Advanced aeronautics and avionics research. Thaller company, Schacht company, Salazar company."

"Explain to me why they won't leave. We've tried to get them out."

He wrote down on the paper, "Chemical and Biological research too dangerous to conduct in Mississippian territory, if it leaked out into the environment, many would die. TBD deemed acceptable land to conduct the research in, high command doesn't care about Burnsians as many are non-white and they proved their liberal views by toppling the rightful Fabus monarchy."

"Eh, we're not liberal. Craig is. Question three, what is a GI Joe? You were talking about that before. Is it some sort of training program? You spoke of capturing a base."

He wrote down on the paper, "I honestly don't remember what about a base... I think maybe I was talking about planned VG operations that have since been cancelled."

"Speaking of which, do you know anything about the VG's current status, or operations? We know some are stationed around Han's."

He shook his head and wrote, "Most of the VG units have left... Only about ten thousand operatives and guerillas remain outside of the embassy. The Czar recalled most of them and cancelled their operations, but some insist on still fighting you..."


He then wrote, "May I please use the bathroom?"

"Erm... sigh. Gressem?" he nodded to one of the guards. "Get the man a pot, would you?"

The guard grunted and left the room, returning quickly with a small gravy pot.

"Go ahead... afraid I'll have to make sure you don't do anything stupid with the pot."

The man frowned and wrote down, "Could I please use a real toilet..."

"No go. I can't let you out of this room, it's not my decision. Anyway, it's better than the wall in your cell."

The man urinated into the can and then wrote on the paper, "Now what, where were we? Could I get more water as we continue to talk?"

"Sure... there's some in the refrigerator under the table. What was your mission in Han's?"

He shook his head, writing, "No mission, I just wanted to get back to the embassy and await my turn to leave, those operatives to be pulled out, we get pulled out in turns you see, depending on our rank, value to the force, and our time in service thus far."

"Alright. Are there any services here in TBD on duty? Like operating or something of the nature."

He shook his head and wrote, "Not currently, no, not anymore, the Czar ended all that."

"Good. Bruno! Gressem! Open the door for the man." He turned to the prisoner. "The exit is down the hallway, first double doors you see. Wear this badge so you don't get shot." He handed Thompson the small, brilliant yellow card.

"You may leave."

OOC: Make sure you RP Thompson getting to the road outside the base. Just leave him there.

Thompson took the pass and slowly stood up, staggering a bit as he walked out of the room and then out of the building, then he ran as fast as he could to the nearest road, not looking back, afraid they might have changed their minds. He didn't know where he found the strength to run, but he had found it... Finally he arrived at the road.

"This is Tango 14 to base, I have visual contact with the target. Yellow card confirmed. Repeat, visual contact. Engaging..."

SNAP

Thomson hit the road, his face smashing hard into the slush. A small, bloody hole was ripped into the back of the prisoner's standard issue uniform. Suddenly, another crack was heard, and a .300 round flew from a guard tower, straight into Thomson's head.

"Target eliminated."

Ooc- So that's it then, eh?

OOC: Yeah, I think so, this was just to illustrate TBD's new policies. Thanks, I had a good time. :)