11-15-2020, 09:46 PM
Zichitla sat cross-legged on the hard mattress of the bed in her cell. She had her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes closed, focusing on keeping her breathing deep and even. Her face was emotionless but inside she was in turmoil. They had transferred her twice already and as of yet, no rescue attempt had been forthcoming. Had she miscalculated the risks when she initially formulated this plan?
She ran one finger along the tender bruise on her wrist. On that, her assessment had been correct at least – in spite of the new legal bans on torture, it was still being carried out. Not nearly to the same extent as before, which was a pleasant surprise. In comparison to what she’d been trained to resist (and carry out) in the Aurora Centre, it barely hurt her, and was well within her tolerance levels. They weren’t trying to get information; they were trying to prove a point and she knew it.
“Kerlian Citizen 13919374,” came a voice from the entrance to her cell. Curious, she hadn’t heard anyone enter and she always listened.
“What torment do you have in store for me today?” Zichitla asked coolly, without moving from her position or opening her eyes. She did, however, brace herself for the blow she imagined would be forthcoming. It didn’t arrive, and no response was given. Slowly, she opened her eyes slightly and peered at the door. There was nobody there.
Opening her eyes fully, Zichitla glanced around her cell. Small, uncomfortable bed. Toilet. Literally nothing else. Kerlian cells were not pleasant places to be. She could touch both of the walls to her sides at once, it was so small. If she had miscalculated and no rescue was forthcoming, this would likely be her home for the rest of her life. She had, after all, threatened a Councillor. There was a chance she would be executed.
“You’re trying to play mind games with me?” she laughed aloud. “Surely you’ve been briefed on what I am? A pathetic attempt, really. If you give me a pen and some paper, I can provide you with some interrogation tips.”
There was no response, Zichitla hadn’t expected one. She stretched her arms above her head and exercised all her limbs as best she could in the tiny space. They did not permit her access to anything that would help her tell the time, but her internal clock was flawless. She sat back down on her bed, back against the cold wall and crossed her legs, whistling as she counted down. 5… 4… 3… 2…
The lock to the cell door clicked and was heaved open. Zichitla held her arms out as two women wearing masks stepped inside and moved to grab her. The former Aurora allowed it, calmly staring straight ahead as she was dragged off the bed, thrown against the wall and had her wrists zip-tied behind her back. She felt the ties catch on her skin as they were pulled too tight, but didn’t make a sound.
They threw a bag over her head and led her down the maze-like corridors, taking turns and doubling back to prevent her creating a mental map. Then they arrived at the interrogation room and she was pushed to the ground and the door slammed behind her, bag remaining and wrists tied so tight she could feel them bleeding.
Zichitla got to her feet in spite of her position, and braced to be knocked down once more. It was a matter of pride that she never allowed them to see if their treatment affected her at all. Nobody hit her, so she began to move around the room she couldn’t see. She managed to ascertain that she was in a seemingly cylindrical room with only one entrance, and that she was almost certainly alone. She frowned, she knew of no Kerlian interrogation technique that used this setup.
“I know what you are,” came a voice. It was the same one she’d heard earlier in her cell. So, this was some kind of psychological technique.
“Then you’ll know these games won’t work on me,” Zichitla replied.
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your training as an Aurora, but you may be interested to know that the Council have stripped you of any privileges associated with that status,” the voice chuckled. “No, I know what you plan to do, little traitor.”
Zichitla suddenly felt cold all over, and initially thought they’d blasted her with cold air, but realised it was her emotions. They couldn’t possibly know what she’d been planning, she hadn’t written anything down nor had she spoken a single word to another soul. This was clearly just part of the interrogation. She remained silent.
“Oh, my Aurora, nothing to say to me? Fear not, I have no intention of revealing your plans to the Council. In fact, I want to help you.”
“People who want to help someone generally do not leave them bound with a bag over their head when they offer said help,” Zichitla replied, keeping her tone even.
“I am your only hope at freedom, Aurora. If I grant you your freedom, I want to know you will pay your debt to me.”
“No,” Zichitla said simply. Mysterious voices offering salvation were always a trap, not for a moment did she consider any other option.
“If you do not take my deal, you will spend the rest of your short life in pain, before your inevitable execution, so I would advise you to reconsider…”
“No,” interrupted Zichitla, just as calmly.
“Then you’ll regret it you piece of Xiomeran scum.”
She was left there for about an hour, no other voices spoke to her, and she sat slowly losing feeling in her hands, wondering if she had been left to die, if she should have attacked the guards today in a futile escape attempt because this would be an unpleasant and distinctly anticlimactic end for an Aurora of her calibre. But they came, led her back to her cell, and cut her bonds so she could hold her sore wrists and glare at them as they locked her in once more.
*
“The alliance with the Auroras is a non-starter,” a figure slipped into a car with darkened windows parked outside the prison which held Zichitla.
“That is unfortunate,” a voice came out of the darkness. Male. The smell of cigarette smoke in a confined space caused the figure to cough. “Your mother hoped we wouldn’t have to kill them. Still, they will be helpful. Their little conflict will give us the opening we need. Lauchenoiria was a failure, but we can still salvage this.”
“Auroras will be hard to kill,” she scoffed. “If they do choose to rescue Zichitla, it’s more likely they’ll win this thing and murder the whole Council – and us.”
“Oh, their rescue plan is already in motion. We need to prepare, we have little time left before the plans will be put into motion.”
“How do you know that?”
“Ah, my daughter, there are many things you do not yet know. Come, our time fast approaches, it is time you learned all the family secrets.”
The man tapped on the glass dividing them from the driver and the vehicle set off along the long, winding road between the prison and civilisation. Outside, the rays of the setting sun vanished one by one from the Matriarchy of Kerlile, bringing the inevitable darkness.
She ran one finger along the tender bruise on her wrist. On that, her assessment had been correct at least – in spite of the new legal bans on torture, it was still being carried out. Not nearly to the same extent as before, which was a pleasant surprise. In comparison to what she’d been trained to resist (and carry out) in the Aurora Centre, it barely hurt her, and was well within her tolerance levels. They weren’t trying to get information; they were trying to prove a point and she knew it.
“Kerlian Citizen 13919374,” came a voice from the entrance to her cell. Curious, she hadn’t heard anyone enter and she always listened.
“What torment do you have in store for me today?” Zichitla asked coolly, without moving from her position or opening her eyes. She did, however, brace herself for the blow she imagined would be forthcoming. It didn’t arrive, and no response was given. Slowly, she opened her eyes slightly and peered at the door. There was nobody there.
Opening her eyes fully, Zichitla glanced around her cell. Small, uncomfortable bed. Toilet. Literally nothing else. Kerlian cells were not pleasant places to be. She could touch both of the walls to her sides at once, it was so small. If she had miscalculated and no rescue was forthcoming, this would likely be her home for the rest of her life. She had, after all, threatened a Councillor. There was a chance she would be executed.
“You’re trying to play mind games with me?” she laughed aloud. “Surely you’ve been briefed on what I am? A pathetic attempt, really. If you give me a pen and some paper, I can provide you with some interrogation tips.”
There was no response, Zichitla hadn’t expected one. She stretched her arms above her head and exercised all her limbs as best she could in the tiny space. They did not permit her access to anything that would help her tell the time, but her internal clock was flawless. She sat back down on her bed, back against the cold wall and crossed her legs, whistling as she counted down. 5… 4… 3… 2…
The lock to the cell door clicked and was heaved open. Zichitla held her arms out as two women wearing masks stepped inside and moved to grab her. The former Aurora allowed it, calmly staring straight ahead as she was dragged off the bed, thrown against the wall and had her wrists zip-tied behind her back. She felt the ties catch on her skin as they were pulled too tight, but didn’t make a sound.
They threw a bag over her head and led her down the maze-like corridors, taking turns and doubling back to prevent her creating a mental map. Then they arrived at the interrogation room and she was pushed to the ground and the door slammed behind her, bag remaining and wrists tied so tight she could feel them bleeding.
Zichitla got to her feet in spite of her position, and braced to be knocked down once more. It was a matter of pride that she never allowed them to see if their treatment affected her at all. Nobody hit her, so she began to move around the room she couldn’t see. She managed to ascertain that she was in a seemingly cylindrical room with only one entrance, and that she was almost certainly alone. She frowned, she knew of no Kerlian interrogation technique that used this setup.
“I know what you are,” came a voice. It was the same one she’d heard earlier in her cell. So, this was some kind of psychological technique.
“Then you’ll know these games won’t work on me,” Zichitla replied.
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your training as an Aurora, but you may be interested to know that the Council have stripped you of any privileges associated with that status,” the voice chuckled. “No, I know what you plan to do, little traitor.”
Zichitla suddenly felt cold all over, and initially thought they’d blasted her with cold air, but realised it was her emotions. They couldn’t possibly know what she’d been planning, she hadn’t written anything down nor had she spoken a single word to another soul. This was clearly just part of the interrogation. She remained silent.
“Oh, my Aurora, nothing to say to me? Fear not, I have no intention of revealing your plans to the Council. In fact, I want to help you.”
“People who want to help someone generally do not leave them bound with a bag over their head when they offer said help,” Zichitla replied, keeping her tone even.
“I am your only hope at freedom, Aurora. If I grant you your freedom, I want to know you will pay your debt to me.”
“No,” Zichitla said simply. Mysterious voices offering salvation were always a trap, not for a moment did she consider any other option.
“If you do not take my deal, you will spend the rest of your short life in pain, before your inevitable execution, so I would advise you to reconsider…”
“No,” interrupted Zichitla, just as calmly.
“Then you’ll regret it you piece of Xiomeran scum.”
She was left there for about an hour, no other voices spoke to her, and she sat slowly losing feeling in her hands, wondering if she had been left to die, if she should have attacked the guards today in a futile escape attempt because this would be an unpleasant and distinctly anticlimactic end for an Aurora of her calibre. But they came, led her back to her cell, and cut her bonds so she could hold her sore wrists and glare at them as they locked her in once more.
*
“The alliance with the Auroras is a non-starter,” a figure slipped into a car with darkened windows parked outside the prison which held Zichitla.
“That is unfortunate,” a voice came out of the darkness. Male. The smell of cigarette smoke in a confined space caused the figure to cough. “Your mother hoped we wouldn’t have to kill them. Still, they will be helpful. Their little conflict will give us the opening we need. Lauchenoiria was a failure, but we can still salvage this.”
“Auroras will be hard to kill,” she scoffed. “If they do choose to rescue Zichitla, it’s more likely they’ll win this thing and murder the whole Council – and us.”
“Oh, their rescue plan is already in motion. We need to prepare, we have little time left before the plans will be put into motion.”
“How do you know that?”
“Ah, my daughter, there are many things you do not yet know. Come, our time fast approaches, it is time you learned all the family secrets.”
The man tapped on the glass dividing them from the driver and the vehicle set off along the long, winding road between the prison and civilisation. Outside, the rays of the setting sun vanished one by one from the Matriarchy of Kerlile, bringing the inevitable darkness.
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax