Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 16, 2017 20:25:32 GMT
Subject 7, aka Marcello, was sitting quietly in his cell. A wide variety of scenarios playing out in his head. It had been a week since his ‘capture’ at the hands of the Immortal Empire. The interrogations where already well underway. And they were unequivocally dull. All the ‘interrogators,’ if they could be called that, did was ask questions. No torture, no beatings. Nothing physical or even psychological. They weren’t even good questions.
“How was your wife before you left?”
“What did you have for breakfast before you were brought here?”
“What is the square root of forty-nine?”
“Do you think this shadow puppet, or this shadow puppet looks more like a bunny?”
“Please define ‘up.’”
“Can you juggle?”
“If I said ‘please’ would you be more willing to answer my questions?”
As Subject 7 questioned how any race as incompetent as this could have possibly become a galactic superpower, the door to his cell exploded inward, imbedding itself several feet into the opposite wall. The man that walked in was a big slab of a man, wearing all white and a ridiculous grin plastered on his scarred head. He walked across the room and pulled the door out of the wall, before bending it into a rough chair shape. As Carron sat he spoke with a clearly exaggerated German accent.
“Gud afternoon. How are ve doing zis day? Hm?”
After Subject 7 didn’t immediately respond, a small frown appeared on Carron’s face.
“Or preehapz you do not understand my zpeech?”
Carron then addressed Subject 7 in a very rough Tenebrae.
“How this. You understand now speak?”
Marcello could only look in disgust at this ineptitude of the Immortal Empire personified.
“I understand English. Oh, and your dialect is absolutely awful.”
Carron, for his part, attempted to look genuinely hurt by the comment.
“It vas really zat bad? Vait! You understood me and zead nozzing! Vhy vould you do zat!?”
Before Subject 7 could even respond, Carron’s hand lashed out, grabbing Marcello’s head and hauling him off his feet.
“Zat’s zat zhen! You’re coming viz me!”
Carron bolted out the door, his captive firmly in his grasp. It took only a minute to reach their destination, but in that time Subject 7 heard multiple shouts of alarm and panic, as well as various people shouting ‘My Lord,’ ‘Sir,’ and ‘You’re Redness.’ Once there Carron slammed Marcello down on a metal table, where he was strapped down.
“Right zen! Time to operate!”
Subject 7 was quickly restrained, strapped to the table with simple leather straps. He had barely enough time to contemplate how a space faring empire could still use such primitive restraints before the table swiveled so that he was ‘standing’ upright.
“RIGHT THEN!” Carron had dropped the German accent and yelled loud enough for Marcello to feel it in his bones. “This should be simple. I ask you questions, and you answer those questions. If you refuse or I find out that you lied to me, I force you to live forever! Doesn’t that sound FUN!?!
“Let’s see now, what to ask… OH! I know! Tell me what your favorite color is!”
Marcello could only respond with a, “What?” before Carron cut him off.
“You’re right. That wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Let’s try again… Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, TELL ME YOUR NOSTRIL DIAMETER! BLAST! That one was a demand too.” Carron ran a hand over his head. “This is harder than I thought.”
By now Marcello was starting to become rather annoyed. It didn’t help any that he actually had to force himself against the table. His restraints were loose enough that he could have, with only a little effort, pulled his hands out of them. But in order to fulfill his mission he had to play the prisoner. But right now, Marcello really wanted to clobber this moron. As if oblivious to Subject 7’s death glare, Carron continued with his ‘interrogation.’
“Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of this. I want your name… I think that was a demand… Nope, that was a request. Better, but not quite. Um, let’s see. What is your name?”
Before Subject 7 could even hope to respond Carron suddenly jumped up and started to dance, reaaaally badly.
“Ha ha! Yes! I did it! I asked a question! A QUESTION! HAAAAA HAHAHEEHEE!”
As suddenly as he started Carron sat down and grinned like a moron at Marcello. At this point others had gathered at the door to see how the ‘interrogation’ was going.
Before he spoke again Carron took a deep breath and held it for several minutes. The room was silent, something very rare when Carron was around.
And then, he spoke.
“What is your favorite color? What is the square root of pi squared? What is a button and how do I get one? What color are your teeth. Do you even have teeth? What about a tongue, do you have one of those? If I had an imaginary friend what would his name be? Would you be my imaginary friend? What allows you to grow hair? Should I be worried about hair loss? Do you think I’d look good with an afro? What if that afro was blonde? What color should I paint my ship? How many children does the average couple of your species produce? If it’s three and a half children where does the half child come from? Actually, where do babies come from? Are you my mommy? Would you be my mommy? If I had a really hot daddy would you reconsider? Know what I mean? Where is the largest star your race has found? Do you have ear drums? I mean, you have ears why wouldn’t you? What is space made of? How do I get myself elected as ruler of your species? Could there be elections? What if I gave everybody free candy? Wait, what about those that don’t like candy? I’ll be ruined! Please tell me, does your race like candy? What about ice-cream? OH! Would you like some ice-cream? Imagine if I could battle evil using only my nose hair! How awesome would that be? Did your race invent deodorant in a can yet? What about boxers? Actually, what does Tenebrae underwear look like? Tell me, is this sound annoying? –EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- What about this one? –NEEEEEeeeEEEeeEeeEEEEEEEeeeeEEEE EEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEee EEeeee… NEEEEEE- What is the meaning of life? Can eggs be both good and bad for you? Where can I find someone willing to write my autobiography for me?...”
<<<>>>
The Next Day
“…What happens when we die? Can anyone eat too many waffles? Given the infinite number of universes isn’t it possible that someone, somewhere created a device that destroys all universes to ever exists? Going off that last question; isn’t it also possible that someone, somewhere created a devices that counters the other guy’s device? Would either of them know what their devices actually did? Or would they just think that they didn’t work and toss them into the trash? Now what’s the deal with the food you get on interstellar travel? I’d rather eat your vomit. Wouldn’t you?...”
<<<>>>
Three Days Later
“…Can you spit out fire from behind your eyes as a last resort? If I had a nickel for ever time that happened to me, do you know how many nickels I’d have? Do you even know what a nickel is? Oh! Oh! What form of currency does your species use? But most importantly, is it edible? Do you think I’m good enough to be a torpedo?...”
At this point Carron had been questioning Marcello nonstop for almost five days. So right about now he was at wits end. He had been denied sleep. He had been denied food and water. Well, denied is a poor choice of words. He simply couldn’t get a word in edgewise to request anything. Right now he couldn’t even think straight. All of the techniques he was imbued with were useless here. This wasn’t like anything he had experienced. This was for many reasons. From the sheer absurdity of it all to the fact that no matter how hard he tried, Marcello couldn’t block out Carron’s voice. Of course, Carron being Carron had learned long ago exactly how to get inside someone’s head, no matter how much they didn’t want him there. As Marcello approached the breaking point Carron continued his rambling.
“…What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Would the universe as we know it end? Would we all become eldritch abominations that will live on to haunt the denizens of the next universe? Would we simple cease to exist? Would life continue on unaffected by this paradoxical event? And why do old people put tennis balls on the ends of their walkers? I mean, I’d think that there’d be better alternatives. Don’t you? Oh! Here’s a good one; how many woodchucks would a woodchuck woodchuck if a woodchuck would chuck woodchucks? Wait, I don’t think that’s right, what do you think? Actually what is a whistle-pig and how do I catch one? How would you catch one? If you could live forever, but had to eat your own vomit, would you? Do Tenebrae children eat their own boogers? Does your race start every meeting with ‘The Meeting of the Honorable Skeletors has now come to order. All cackle menacingly and we can get underway.’ or something like that? What happens when…”
Carron never got to finish this last question. Marcello, questioned to the point of madness, freed himself from the poorly fastened restraints and leapt at the mad man. Subject 7 delivered as mighty a blow as he could manage to Carron’s face. Carron reeled from the blow, but before he could recover Marcello was on him, yelling “SHUT UP!” repeatedly as he tried to gouge the Red Lord’s eyes. As thumbs pressed down on eyes, Carron maintained his moronic grin and absurd questioning.
“…What are you doing? Can I help you? Why do toes exist?...”
Marcello’s thumbs plunged deep into the Councilman’s sockets. But instead of popping the eyes, like Marcello was trying to, he only accomplished in pushing them aside. Carron stared back at his attacker, his eyes horribly displaced in his sockets.
“…I see you’re trying to pop my eyes, can I help you with that? Would I make a good paperclip?”
“SHUT UP!”
Marcello twisted his thumbs so that they were behind Carron’s eyes, and then he pulled with all of his might only to find that those eyes weren’t moving and they weren’t compressing.
“That ain’t gonna work. Would you like some advice?”
“JUST SHUT UP!”
He pulled his hands free of Carron’s sockets and started beating the madman’s face. He wailed away, pounding Carron’s face even as his knuckles started to bleed. Right now he didn’t care about anything other than shutting this fool’s mouth. He didn’t notice that those at the door way started to chuckle and rib each other at the spectacle before them.
Even as his face was being beaten, Carron still smiled. His next words, spoken in near perfect Tenebrae, snapped Marcello into realizing that he had walked right into the idiot’s trap.
“Well, I guess it’s gunna be self defense then.”
Carron sat up, smashing his head into his assailant’s face knocking him off as he did so. By the time Marcello leapt to his feet Carron was already standing over him, his hand cocked back behind his head, ready to strike.
“Carron Chop!”
With a mighty yell, Carron’s hand bludgeoned its way through the prisoner’s neck and imbedded itself into the table behind him. The head, now free from its body, spun through the air several times before Carron caught it. He held it up briefly, clearly about to say something.
“Nah. It’s been done to death. HA! To death! I made a funny!”
Carron dropped the severed head into a metal tray to be taken away by a team in white coats, who had been patiently waiting outside the room until they were needed. Carron continued to smile as Subject 7 was carted away.
“Immortality. Heh. I bet he was looking forward to his unlife…
“ You.” He turned to one of the medical techs that were cleaning up. “Save the bodies of those that die. I’ve just hatched a plan.”
The tech looked at the body spasming on the ground and then looked back to Carron. He gave an overly elaborate bow before speaking.
”Oh courageous chicken, is it a brutal or a cunning plan that you have hatched?”
Carron chuckled slightly as he said, “Yes.”
And with that Carron left to oversee the interrogation of another prisoner.
[OOC Notes: In responce to: ancerious-galactic.deviantart.…
There was some… confusion… as to how the Immortal Empire ‘extracts’ information from prisoners of war. Some were under the impression that it included beatings, partial dissections, and things of that ilk. Not quite.
A few quick clarifications:
The Immortal Empire doesn’t do ‘partial dissections.’ When they take something apart they are very thorough. This means everything.
Subject 7: “Captain Rolus of the ‘X X’ was prisoner of the Immortal Empire.” This was taken from the very original draft, long before Subject 7 was given the name Marcello. So, to avoid confusion, I’ve renamed Subject 7 Marcello.
Also, I've never been able to read comments made on these journals, so I'll put a comment below that can be responded to.
Wasn’t that fun? Be sure to tune in next time! You didn’t think this was the end did you?]
“How was your wife before you left?”
“What did you have for breakfast before you were brought here?”
“What is the square root of forty-nine?”
“Do you think this shadow puppet, or this shadow puppet looks more like a bunny?”
“Please define ‘up.’”
“Can you juggle?”
“If I said ‘please’ would you be more willing to answer my questions?”
As Subject 7 questioned how any race as incompetent as this could have possibly become a galactic superpower, the door to his cell exploded inward, imbedding itself several feet into the opposite wall. The man that walked in was a big slab of a man, wearing all white and a ridiculous grin plastered on his scarred head. He walked across the room and pulled the door out of the wall, before bending it into a rough chair shape. As Carron sat he spoke with a clearly exaggerated German accent.
“Gud afternoon. How are ve doing zis day? Hm?”
After Subject 7 didn’t immediately respond, a small frown appeared on Carron’s face.
“Or preehapz you do not understand my zpeech?”
Carron then addressed Subject 7 in a very rough Tenebrae.
“How this. You understand now speak?”
Marcello could only look in disgust at this ineptitude of the Immortal Empire personified.
“I understand English. Oh, and your dialect is absolutely awful.”
Carron, for his part, attempted to look genuinely hurt by the comment.
“It vas really zat bad? Vait! You understood me and zead nozzing! Vhy vould you do zat!?”
Before Subject 7 could even respond, Carron’s hand lashed out, grabbing Marcello’s head and hauling him off his feet.
“Zat’s zat zhen! You’re coming viz me!”
Carron bolted out the door, his captive firmly in his grasp. It took only a minute to reach their destination, but in that time Subject 7 heard multiple shouts of alarm and panic, as well as various people shouting ‘My Lord,’ ‘Sir,’ and ‘You’re Redness.’ Once there Carron slammed Marcello down on a metal table, where he was strapped down.
“Right zen! Time to operate!”
Subject 7 was quickly restrained, strapped to the table with simple leather straps. He had barely enough time to contemplate how a space faring empire could still use such primitive restraints before the table swiveled so that he was ‘standing’ upright.
“RIGHT THEN!” Carron had dropped the German accent and yelled loud enough for Marcello to feel it in his bones. “This should be simple. I ask you questions, and you answer those questions. If you refuse or I find out that you lied to me, I force you to live forever! Doesn’t that sound FUN!?!
“Let’s see now, what to ask… OH! I know! Tell me what your favorite color is!”
Marcello could only respond with a, “What?” before Carron cut him off.
“You’re right. That wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Let’s try again… Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, TELL ME YOUR NOSTRIL DIAMETER! BLAST! That one was a demand too.” Carron ran a hand over his head. “This is harder than I thought.”
By now Marcello was starting to become rather annoyed. It didn’t help any that he actually had to force himself against the table. His restraints were loose enough that he could have, with only a little effort, pulled his hands out of them. But in order to fulfill his mission he had to play the prisoner. But right now, Marcello really wanted to clobber this moron. As if oblivious to Subject 7’s death glare, Carron continued with his ‘interrogation.’
“Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of this. I want your name… I think that was a demand… Nope, that was a request. Better, but not quite. Um, let’s see. What is your name?”
Before Subject 7 could even hope to respond Carron suddenly jumped up and started to dance, reaaaally badly.
“Ha ha! Yes! I did it! I asked a question! A QUESTION! HAAAAA HAHAHEEHEE!”
As suddenly as he started Carron sat down and grinned like a moron at Marcello. At this point others had gathered at the door to see how the ‘interrogation’ was going.
Before he spoke again Carron took a deep breath and held it for several minutes. The room was silent, something very rare when Carron was around.
And then, he spoke.
“What is your favorite color? What is the square root of pi squared? What is a button and how do I get one? What color are your teeth. Do you even have teeth? What about a tongue, do you have one of those? If I had an imaginary friend what would his name be? Would you be my imaginary friend? What allows you to grow hair? Should I be worried about hair loss? Do you think I’d look good with an afro? What if that afro was blonde? What color should I paint my ship? How many children does the average couple of your species produce? If it’s three and a half children where does the half child come from? Actually, where do babies come from? Are you my mommy? Would you be my mommy? If I had a really hot daddy would you reconsider? Know what I mean? Where is the largest star your race has found? Do you have ear drums? I mean, you have ears why wouldn’t you? What is space made of? How do I get myself elected as ruler of your species? Could there be elections? What if I gave everybody free candy? Wait, what about those that don’t like candy? I’ll be ruined! Please tell me, does your race like candy? What about ice-cream? OH! Would you like some ice-cream? Imagine if I could battle evil using only my nose hair! How awesome would that be? Did your race invent deodorant in a can yet? What about boxers? Actually, what does Tenebrae underwear look like? Tell me, is this sound annoying? –EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- What about this one? –NEEEEEeeeEEEeeEeeEEEEEEEeeeeEEEE EEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEee EEeeee… NEEEEEE- What is the meaning of life? Can eggs be both good and bad for you? Where can I find someone willing to write my autobiography for me?...”
<<<>>>
The Next Day
“…What happens when we die? Can anyone eat too many waffles? Given the infinite number of universes isn’t it possible that someone, somewhere created a device that destroys all universes to ever exists? Going off that last question; isn’t it also possible that someone, somewhere created a devices that counters the other guy’s device? Would either of them know what their devices actually did? Or would they just think that they didn’t work and toss them into the trash? Now what’s the deal with the food you get on interstellar travel? I’d rather eat your vomit. Wouldn’t you?...”
<<<>>>
Three Days Later
“…Can you spit out fire from behind your eyes as a last resort? If I had a nickel for ever time that happened to me, do you know how many nickels I’d have? Do you even know what a nickel is? Oh! Oh! What form of currency does your species use? But most importantly, is it edible? Do you think I’m good enough to be a torpedo?...”
At this point Carron had been questioning Marcello nonstop for almost five days. So right about now he was at wits end. He had been denied sleep. He had been denied food and water. Well, denied is a poor choice of words. He simply couldn’t get a word in edgewise to request anything. Right now he couldn’t even think straight. All of the techniques he was imbued with were useless here. This wasn’t like anything he had experienced. This was for many reasons. From the sheer absurdity of it all to the fact that no matter how hard he tried, Marcello couldn’t block out Carron’s voice. Of course, Carron being Carron had learned long ago exactly how to get inside someone’s head, no matter how much they didn’t want him there. As Marcello approached the breaking point Carron continued his rambling.
“…What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Would the universe as we know it end? Would we all become eldritch abominations that will live on to haunt the denizens of the next universe? Would we simple cease to exist? Would life continue on unaffected by this paradoxical event? And why do old people put tennis balls on the ends of their walkers? I mean, I’d think that there’d be better alternatives. Don’t you? Oh! Here’s a good one; how many woodchucks would a woodchuck woodchuck if a woodchuck would chuck woodchucks? Wait, I don’t think that’s right, what do you think? Actually what is a whistle-pig and how do I catch one? How would you catch one? If you could live forever, but had to eat your own vomit, would you? Do Tenebrae children eat their own boogers? Does your race start every meeting with ‘The Meeting of the Honorable Skeletors has now come to order. All cackle menacingly and we can get underway.’ or something like that? What happens when…”
Carron never got to finish this last question. Marcello, questioned to the point of madness, freed himself from the poorly fastened restraints and leapt at the mad man. Subject 7 delivered as mighty a blow as he could manage to Carron’s face. Carron reeled from the blow, but before he could recover Marcello was on him, yelling “SHUT UP!” repeatedly as he tried to gouge the Red Lord’s eyes. As thumbs pressed down on eyes, Carron maintained his moronic grin and absurd questioning.
“…What are you doing? Can I help you? Why do toes exist?...”
Marcello’s thumbs plunged deep into the Councilman’s sockets. But instead of popping the eyes, like Marcello was trying to, he only accomplished in pushing them aside. Carron stared back at his attacker, his eyes horribly displaced in his sockets.
“…I see you’re trying to pop my eyes, can I help you with that? Would I make a good paperclip?”
“SHUT UP!”
Marcello twisted his thumbs so that they were behind Carron’s eyes, and then he pulled with all of his might only to find that those eyes weren’t moving and they weren’t compressing.
“That ain’t gonna work. Would you like some advice?”
“JUST SHUT UP!”
He pulled his hands free of Carron’s sockets and started beating the madman’s face. He wailed away, pounding Carron’s face even as his knuckles started to bleed. Right now he didn’t care about anything other than shutting this fool’s mouth. He didn’t notice that those at the door way started to chuckle and rib each other at the spectacle before them.
Even as his face was being beaten, Carron still smiled. His next words, spoken in near perfect Tenebrae, snapped Marcello into realizing that he had walked right into the idiot’s trap.
“Well, I guess it’s gunna be self defense then.”
Carron sat up, smashing his head into his assailant’s face knocking him off as he did so. By the time Marcello leapt to his feet Carron was already standing over him, his hand cocked back behind his head, ready to strike.
“Carron Chop!”
With a mighty yell, Carron’s hand bludgeoned its way through the prisoner’s neck and imbedded itself into the table behind him. The head, now free from its body, spun through the air several times before Carron caught it. He held it up briefly, clearly about to say something.
“Nah. It’s been done to death. HA! To death! I made a funny!”
Carron dropped the severed head into a metal tray to be taken away by a team in white coats, who had been patiently waiting outside the room until they were needed. Carron continued to smile as Subject 7 was carted away.
“Immortality. Heh. I bet he was looking forward to his unlife…
“ You.” He turned to one of the medical techs that were cleaning up. “Save the bodies of those that die. I’ve just hatched a plan.”
The tech looked at the body spasming on the ground and then looked back to Carron. He gave an overly elaborate bow before speaking.
”Oh courageous chicken, is it a brutal or a cunning plan that you have hatched?”
Carron chuckled slightly as he said, “Yes.”
And with that Carron left to oversee the interrogation of another prisoner.
[OOC Notes: In responce to: ancerious-galactic.deviantart.…
There was some… confusion… as to how the Immortal Empire ‘extracts’ information from prisoners of war. Some were under the impression that it included beatings, partial dissections, and things of that ilk. Not quite.
A few quick clarifications:
The Immortal Empire doesn’t do ‘partial dissections.’ When they take something apart they are very thorough. This means everything.
Subject 7: “Captain Rolus of the ‘X X’ was prisoner of the Immortal Empire.” This was taken from the very original draft, long before Subject 7 was given the name Marcello. So, to avoid confusion, I’ve renamed Subject 7 Marcello.
Also, I've never been able to read comments made on these journals, so I'll put a comment below that can be responded to.
Wasn’t that fun? Be sure to tune in next time! You didn’t think this was the end did you?]