Final Fantasy XII (Drace, Fran) [week 4 - prompt 4]
Title: That Much Focus Author: Cadence Rating: R Word Count: 700 Summary: The prisoner in cell 17F has been there for weeks.
The prisoner in cell 17F has been there for weeks. Drace is surprised she hasn’t heard about her before now, really. Usually just resting on cold cement for a few days is enough to convince people they would really like to share whatever information they know, and when that doesn’t do it, the other interrogators have their own highly effective methods.
They only bring Drace in after they’ve been unsuccessful. The prisoners can sense her honorable nature, or so says her boss. They think whatever they’ve been through so far was an aberration, personal malice, that here is a sympathetic face. Drace knows that there’s been no aberration, of course, but at least the others tend to do things out of her direct sight these days. Someday that vague embarrassment might transform into a real conscience.
Of course, Drace has never thought of herself as particularly sympathetic, either. But she supposes it’s all a matter of perspective.
Her interrogation room is no more inviting than the others, but at least it is clean and empty. She insists the prisoners be washed before she meets them, but that has more to do with the unpleasantness of meeting them at the end of their rounds than any particular concern for their hygiene. This particular prisoner has apparently never been cooperative in restraints, so she’s better off than the others in that she is brought in without them.
Drace checks her body armor and taser before she goes into the room. The prisoner looks up from her chair with piercing eyes—that much focus after so much time here is impressive.
“I hope you’re not going to waste my time with declarations of innocence,” she begins firmly. “We know you and your partner broke into a secure military facility. The only question is –“
And then the prisoner leaps up, hand going for Drace’s neck. Drace catches it easily with a hand around her wrist, of course. This won’t be the first time it’s been tried.
But then the prisoner sends her arm to one side, all her weight going towards the ground, and Drace’s hand is pulled awkwardly across her body and down before she releases her grip. The woman plants her hand and shifts again, sending a leg up into a kick to catch Drace on the chin.
It’s a slick move, and with little regard for her situation; her cotton prison smock gapes indecently as she kicks. But her muscles are trembling, and she moves slowly enough that it’s easy enough for Drace to duck out of the way and then pin her face-first against the wall as she lands.
“It’s Fran, right?” Drace says into her ear. Her long pale hair is still damp, and matted together – not much a quick douse of water can do about that. “Nice try. But you’re not getting out of here. You might as well cooperate.”
“And why would I do that,” the woman hisses, “If you claim to know what I’ve done already? I know the punishment.” Her voice is strangely accented, which surprises Drace. There was no note in her file. Could it be that none of the others have even gotten her to speak?
She has to admit that she has a point, though. Giving up her source means she gets out of here, but likely only to another prison for the rest of her life. Or execution.
Drace lets her up. She can’t do much damage anyway.
“Look,” she says as Fran turns around warily, “Just give up whoever fed you information. Whoever they are, they aren’t worth this. It will be best for you, really.”
Fran bares her teeth even as her limbs tremble, one arm on the wall for support. “Is that supposed to sound plausible? No matter. I’m not doing it for them.” Drace eyes her for a moment.
“I can stall this,” Drace offers eventually, and she’s not sure if it’s a true offer or just a tactic. “Say I’m working on you, make things easier on you. But it will last a week, at most. If you remain stubborn, you will be killed.”