Slabs (Invite only)

Left and right goes the light as it is night. In a room filled with gloom, noon ain't coming. Dark and dreary, hark for it is not cheery. Like a butterfly, there is yet to be a sigh for it is not high. Seclusion which spurs delusion per solution.

Stacks of clothes were laid aside with a uniformed Amestrian officer inspecting every tool he has. Torture tools per se despite the call for the ending of the war. Particularly tweezers is what the blonde gazed at with a hearty interest and a smile most wicked. Parting glances to the prisoner.

It would be the case if there WERE any tools around, but the room was notably dark which was true of that, and cold for those lacking in garments. And the tweezers? Those were for plucking out some hair as Nikolaus's imagination ran wild with torture fantasies. The quarry he gathered though was restrained to a wooden chair with ropes tying her ankles to the legs of the chair. Her hand bounded behind with ropes as well. As it was true her clothing were set aside along with the armaments which were left outside.

Vapor of fine noxious fumes ascend to the roof, being sucked out into the vents as the air was filtered. This was to be Nikolaus's last smoke from his favorite pipe. Dreading the health effects it held over him that at least the devil's booze provides solace. Finally setting down the smoking pipe on the table.

Following with two pokes, they would press unto Nika's forehead, as a table of wood separated the two from one another. It was time for her to wake up. To wake up in a dimly lit room with a shaded Amestrian Major sitting opposite of her.

"Vakey vakey lemons bakey, ze sun is shining, and you are late to an appointment, Fraulein." He chuckles heartily, "Okay, zhis is ze part vhere you look at me and vonder who I am and vhere you are and just vhat happened to your garments. Then expect lots of clichéd questions from me and statements from you, blah blah blah and so on and so forth, as how it'll go, understood?"

When Nika awoke, all she could feel was the pain in her head, the dizziness, and the prodding, in that order. She tried to bring herself together, he eyes opening, her blurry vision struggling to focus as the dimly lit room spun around her wildly, blurring her surroundings while her head ached with a persistent and splitting pain. She tried to rub her eyes, only to find her hands unable to move from behind her. The hell? THE HELL? What was going on? Trying to compose her thoughts, Nika's head only hurt more. How she wished she could tend to that.

With things finally coming into focus and her senses finally catching up to her, the situation at hand was absorbed. There was a man sitting across a table in front of her, she could barely make him out between her own dizziness and the dimness of the room. Who was he, a soldier? What had happened during the battle.....she had tried to stop Ito and Duathi from fighting and then.....there was an explosion.....then what had happened? She was captured? She struggled to try and move, but it was immediately apparent that she had been completely bound to the chair she was now sitting in. Even her uniform seemed to be missing, she could feel the cool night air against her bare body, completely uncovered save for her undergarments: A black tube top for her chest, and black undershorts. Her thoughts quickly picked up pace as the urgency of her precarious situation became vividly apparent. She was captured? Where was she? Had the Cretans found out her duplicity in her role and imprisoned her? Or was she being held for treason against Amestris? Where was Commander Ito? What had happened during the battle? These uncertainties spun rapidly in her head as she tried to come to terms with her ordeal.

Only a few seconds had passed since she awoke, and though her eyes barely strayed from the man across the table during her panicked contemplation, it had still startled her slightly to hear him speak, half expecting him to be some spectre of her imagination, that this dreary cell was all just some nightmarish fabrication of hers in her state of phantasm.

"Vakey vakey lemons bakey, ze sun is shining, and you are late to an appointment, Fraulein." He snickered, "Okay, zhis is ze part vhere you look at me and vonder who I am and vhere you are and just vhat happened to your garments. Then expect lots of clichéd questions from me and statements from you, blah blah blah and so on and so forth, as how it'll go, understood?"

Cretan....he was speaking Cretan....but he sounded Amestrian? She was still dazed, but Nika tried to get a better look at him, or more specifically, the uniform he was wearing. It was......she struggled focus on him with the overhead light casting a obscuring shadow over him, he was a hardly more than a silhoutte to the disoriented sergeant.

"where.....where am I?" She started in Cretan but continued in Amestrian, deciding it best to use the language she could speak in better, regardless of the allegiance of her captor.

"Wunderbar!" Ecstatically proclaims the officer, clapping once, dropping his Cretan knowing this unknown captive is able in speaking Amestrian, "You have fulfilled your part well, Cretan, wondering where you are and looking at me are done. Now unto part two."

A gloved hand slides the smoking tobacco towards Nika, noxious smoke clouding her face as it was still lit, filled with tobacco. It was made of Amestrian wood, polished, black. Laying underneath her, obscuring the figure of her captor further.

He was observing her, fascinated by how startled she was, grinning, it was his most noticeable feature in this shade, the pearl white shining from what dim light there was. The wolf's grin. A foreboding predatory show of glee. Or perhaps a genuine grin showing a happiness of sorts, perhaps something had happened well with the officer back at home such as a promotion or that his house is intact. Who knows?

It was obvious to him there was some sort of confusion, had he more liberties after all, were Creta still at war, he would have tortured her. In fact, it is but an anomaly to Nikolaus himself why he hadn't done so already with a disregard to the rules... perhaps he has learnt restraint? Or was it that he was interested in devouring what information she had at his gamble towards interrogations in general?

"What is your name, rank and history? And who are you exactly? We already know you work with the Cretans, it is but your identity that is in the question." There was a pause with the officer, "Oh! And I almost forgot. You are at Area ninety three, little missy. You are dead in the real world officially, you do not exist. Poof! Gone. Nothing about you is there."

The vagueness of the room had indeed made it hard to discern she was in fact inside Western territories still, and not in an Area 93, an unknown military installation Nikolaus made up.

The white tiles constituting the ground and the grey unpainted walls making up the room's wall and ceiling had done nothing to betray the fact this was in a slaughter house. An abandoned one at that. The room was but a part of it with an unknown function with now most of what used to be here moved away.

The aroma of death and the fragrance of rot is subtle in this room, blood itself taints the scent as smoke all but camouflages it. Vents inhaling what disgusting smell lingers as to listen it to what it is -- subtle.

[Bump!]

"Wunderbar!" exclaimed the man cloaked in shadow, with an unnerving air of enthusiasm and a clap of the hands. Nika was familiar with this type of person, the type who got way too much pleasure out of doing his work. But then again, considering the situation, she was likely in a position to be tortured along with her interrogation, and guys like that always seemed to find their way to those sort of gruesome jobs. That was where this seemed to be going, this ordeal Nika had found herself in. She grimaced at the thought of the interrogation and torture techniques used by countries across the glove, the kinds of things that don't get leaked to the public. There was really no way out of this, huh? She was either being held on the grounds of treachery by Creta or Amestris, and either way, it didn't seem to make a difference, she was at the end of the line. Hah. And to think she had worked so hard to earn herself a respectable reputation and position in the army. What a waste.

"You have fulfilled your part well, Cretan, wondering where you are and looking at me are done. Now unto part two." The captor said in familiar Amestrian, his vigor and enthusiasm not fading in the slightest. So, he spoke Amestrian fluently and Cretan with an accent? Then was she captured as a traitor by Amestris? If that was the case, then she needn't resist when questioned, it would make this much smoother, perhaps even reduce her sentence if they saw that she was willing to cooperate. But the fact that he referred to her as a Cretan meant that she was certainly labeled as a traitor, the thought she had truly defected to Creta, then. But what became of Lt. Colonel Ito and Colonel Xanthus? Did they not inform the commanding officers that she was acting under Ito's orders to sabotage Creta's forces? Or did the higher ups not believe their story? It was possible that Ito too, was locked up somewhere in a holding cell. The captor slid a lit pipe in front of her, filling her eyes and nostrils with the distinct, chocking scent of burning tobacco. Was this some sort of joke? An oferring she couldn't take, sitting there to keep her hazed? She was finally coming to, but even as she tried to exhale heavily, hoping to huff the smoke away, the puffs of silvery whisps between them and the gloomy shade of the room would not permit her the privileged of seeing her captor's face properly. She stiffened as she reminded herself of the impending interrogation ahead, nervous of the possible outcomes, but steeled nonetheless, with a determination to prove her innocence as much as she could. With loyalty and and cooperation, she may well win them over. The man who held her fate in his clenched hand, began to speak once more, and Nika remained silent as he did.

"What is your name, rank and history? And who are you exactly? We already know you work with the Cretans, it is but your identity that is in the question." There was a pause with the veiled man, "Oh! And I almost forgot. You are at Area ninety three, little missy. You are dead in the real world officially, you do not exist. Poof! Gone. Nothing about you is there."

Her eye's widened as she absorbed the bit of news he had presented to her. Area ninety three? Was there such a place in Amestris? She had never once heard of such a thing....but if it was really a highly classified and secret location, then it would make sense for her to be unfamiliar with such a place. Was she really classified as such an enemy of the state that she would be placed in such a facility? Was she going to vanish off the face of the planet, never heard of again, all records erased? Was he telling the truth....had she never existed? All her work, all her effort to get to where she was today.....what was it all for? Nobody would ever recognize her. She never made close friends anyway, it was not like anyone but Ito or Cross would notice her disappearance. Nika broke into a slight cold sweat as panic gnawed away at her. This really was the end of it all wasn't-

..........Wait a minute. Wait a god damned minute. If they were unable to identify her, then how could they have been able to cover up her existence? Something was not right at all, they were playing at something, this must have been a trick, a test of some sort. Her mind began racing as she wised up to the perplexing situation at hand. What would Amestris have to gain from this, if they already knew she was a traitor? They should have been able to pull up her records with ease, its not like her leaving of Briggs would have gone unnoticed, they could have just skipped to interrogating her for whatever information of Creta's that they thought she might have. So.....what if she was being held by Creta after all? They would not have been able to identify her so easily, they would have not been able to pull up her records like Amestris could have. This man before her, he seemed Amestrian in every shape and form, and kept on implying that he thought she was Cretan, that that was an established fact, but it could easily be a part of the entire ruse, to trick her into thinking she was safely in Amestrian hands, and that if she just spilled all the information she had, something that Creta would have thought would be highly classified and unknown to the majority of the Amestrian military forces, these "Amestrians" would realize their mistake and pardon her.

Amestrian or Cretan? The question of the identity of her captures came to light once more. It would be pointless to ask who they were. If they were Amestrian, they would say so, if they were Cretan, under this situation, they would probably say they were Amestrian as well. She would need more clues before she could freely speak, if she leaked sensitive information to Creta, it would be more of a major quandary than if she was just being drilled for the Cretan information she did not have by Amestris. She would have to play it safe for the time being.

"Sergeant Nikita Alkaev. Personenkennziffer, 240888-A-04310". she said with a placid tone, as she tried to relax and keep a level head in this delicate situation. The information she just stated was a typical statement for captured Amestrian soldiers, the only information she was technically allowed to release to the enemy, a line to repeat over and over until either you broke or you were killed. This was the best way to test the water.

"Sergeant Nikita Alkaev. Personenkennziffer, 240888-A-04310".

"Eh? This is actually Amestrian... strange. Such a Drachman name too..." There was a brief pause from Nikolaus from her statement, the smoke further blurring the darkened outline of his figure as he thought about it for a while. She must be a Northern born Amestrian, a lot of those are common in Briggs, at least by analysis. Cold reading this all from a single statement such as this.

"Well well well, now what would a Drachman be doing with an Amestrian zipper as I'd call them, eh? Especially in the Cretan army, wearing their uniform. You are a long way from home, missy. I think I may know whom you are now." He reached for what would be a rectangular object, pressing unto it in a sort of pattern, and bracing it against his ear. It was basically a long distance mobile phone, a civilian model, "This is Major Stuka from Central Security, Northern Arr and Dee (R&D), requesting on files on a Sergeant Nikita Alkaev, female. Look up North Sector Command, possibly Drachman."

A pause took place, as a tap of a finger in a sequence would seem like hours for the wait, a mundane wait music took place, it was similar to an elevator music as Nikolaus, gritting his teeth, had founded this a most bothersome nuisance. His identity wasn't a problem really, if she says whom she says she is, then further inquiries would be made.

The reply from the information center he called prompted a stopping in the sequenced tapping against the table's surface. Nikolaus stood up, his uniform revealed by the light, and so was his jaw. Shining a grin to her, closing the line in the phone, pocketing it.

"Male, Nikita Alkaev, AWOL, Sergeant from Briggs under a certain Lieutenant Colonel Daigoro Ito, reported to be a defector initially." He would move along, until he was at her left flank, an eyebrow raised, gazing at her chest, "And yet here you are, female. Why the secret? Who are you REALLY working for? The Czar? HAH! Figures he would shirk the pact he made with Amestris."

He inclined an eyebrow to her presence, "But that doesn't really matter, I know now you're a Briggs unit attaché, weird that they are implementing a case of don't ask, don't tell policy with you cross dressing impersonators." He quips with poisonous distrust in his tone, skeptical, "The question is, why were you with the Cretans? You owe me an answer for saving your dead ass, wading around there in the battlefield, empty headed, not mindful a battle is going on, lacking clarity, a headless chicken ripe for the slaughter... yet was not exterminated. A lucky happening I was there."

A pause took place, tapping his feet nonchalantly on the floor once again, as he further thinks this out, "Your commander is once again in Briggs, safe and sound, if you bother about your own commanding officer's welfare. Probably straightened out by the head of the sector there, no, definitely straightened out."

He chuckled lightly, "You know, this glorious, glorious war, is over. A peace treaty has been made with the Cretans. All of Amestris was blown up as we were betrayed by that bitch, the Fuhrer. She left, and RIOTE, no, not RIOTE, an organization of pretenders have taken the mantle." He paused, in a way, RIOTE was Father's enemy, thus Nikolaus's enemy, a thought that he moved aside for more important matters, continuing, "This cuts the interrogation short anyways, I now know whom you are. But not your purpose, Briggsite, which is what I'll be expecting, that, and you have a load of paperwork to fill out, signatures to gather and information to deliver to Central Security."

But why the sudden reveal of information? It was probably because now he knows whom she really is, and is playing it from another angle, the angle of an Amestrian to another Amestrian. The confirmation of Daigoro for the most part remains blurred, and Nikolaus dislikes the whole notion of this conspiracy going around. What does a woman have to gain from hiding her gender anyways? Amestris has had a gender equality for a while, as men and women weren't seen weaker or stronger but as equals in combat. A shame, his partner Bethany, to Nikolaus, would have outdone her. A damn fine woman until... that incident. Best not to be thought about.

Nika stared back at the obscured figure of her captor with hardened grey eyes, her mindset already steeled and prepared for whatever the interrogator would say next, but his next action, the call to HQ, to reference files, both wiped away her suspicions and alarmed her. A lot of information was to be mulled over here as the man put away his phone. His name was Stuka, and he was Major who worked in Centrals Security department. Now his suspicions of her seemed to be based in two things, her Drachman heritage and her place in the Cretan military. The former of course, was certainly nothing to be alarmed of, for she had no connections with Drachma, but the latter was certainly reason for worry. There was no way to explain her circumstance to Major Stuka, or any of his superiors, not without Ito, and that was only possible if he had been cleared of any charges of treason.

Nika watched in silence as the Major stood up, the light from the ceiling lamp revealing his deep blue Uniform, the uniform of the Amestrian officer he claimed to be. She could not catch a glimpse of his eyes in the angle of the lighting he stood in, but she could certainly see the grin on his face. What was he smiling about now? The man began to speak with that tone that reeked of sadistic amusement, slowly approaching her from her side. She remained in her silent, unresponsive state as question after question, accusation after accusation rained down upon her in Stuka's all out verbal offensive. He did not allow her time to respond, but that was the point of the tactic, it was meant to overwhelm her. But that was fine, the best thing to do was to remain calm and not allow yourself to snap back hastily, lest you wanted to tangle yourself in this carefully placed web. All she had to do was deny the false accusations and explain the misunderstandings. After that, it all boiled down to two things. Ito's current status, and whether or not she was going to be branded as a traitor by the Amestrian government.

So there she sat, as Stuka rattled on, no remarks on her end, not any made aloud, at least. He had all the facts straight, all of her official military records seemed to check out, so there was no doubt that she was safely out of Cretan hands and right back into the "loving" embrace of her own country. Of course, the matter of her sex arose. It had nearly slipped her mind, that she was registered as a male in the Amestrian military. In the Cretan Army, she couldn't pull off the same stint, so she had, for the first time, existed as a female soldier. Between that experience, and her conversations with Cross, she had decided that if she returned to Amestris in once piece, she'd stop pretending to be something she wasn't. But Stuka seemed to hold tightly to his suspicions as he hurled his accusations at her. A spy? For the Czar? She would have smirked at the mere notion of it if she was not trying to retain a stoic appearance. She had never been to Drachma in her life, and she didn't give a damn as to what her parents' history was in that country. She spoke the language, but that was it. But he went on, restating the obvious question, the one concerning her involvement with Creta. He had also mentioned that it was he who saved her during the battle. She supposed it would have been appropriate to thank him if it weren't for the circumstances. Still, her memories of the last few minutes of her consciousness were a impenetrable haze to her. The result of the battle, the fate of Ito and Duathi, they were all unknown to her. Was the war still going on? How far did Creta make it into Amestris? She wanted to ask these questions, she wanted to explain herself so she could go back to Briggs and make sure everyone was okay, make sure Ito was alive, but Stuka continued in his one-sided rant of questions, leaving her to wonder these things to herself, as well as note his criticisms of her conduct on the battlefield, so that she could address them herself when she had time to spare.

"Your commander is once again in Briggs, safe and sound-" said Stuka as his foot tapped against the concrete floor, filling the stillness of the room with a steady beat of noise. He went on to say more, but Nika ignored it all, most of his words were just assumptions anyway. All that mattered was that Ito was alive. His current status in the military was not revealed to her, but he was well and back at Briggs, and that was all that mattered to her at the moment. If he was alive, then he could vouch for her, and then they could both return to Briggs and things could go back to how they were supposed to be.

But what he said next caught her attention with a manner of shock and disbelieve. The words that exuded from his sneering mouth, they seemed to be of a foreign language, she could not make sense of them at all. She was left dumbfounded as he went on to other matters that did not reach her mind. She repeated what he said over and over in her head in total disbelief. '.....this....... war, is over. A peace treaty has been made with the Cretans. All of Amestris was blown up.....betrayed by.......the Fuhrer. She left, and RIOTE......... have taken the mantle.'

At this point, Nika could no longer remain quite, and in her confusion, she finally let her tongue loosen, and her thoughts and concerns leak out. "Wait....what do you mean?" she asked slowly, her words wrapped in hesitations, as if what she were saying was absolute absurdity. "Amestris was.....blown up? By....by the Fuhrer?" She fell silent again, at a complete loss of words, her eyes set upon his obscured face, waiting expectantly for an answer, for some indication that this was just another little mind game of his, meant to unsettle her. It had to be just that.

The shade exhibited by the uniform may appear raven when they were naught but stark black as the darkness of night the Major treads. That one with such love for darkness having darkness in his heart in turn, never blind, rather knowing exactly where it is. The vapor rising from the tobacco pipe, deadening any sorts of smell to whomever inhales it, disguising whatever disgusting stench that came out from the vents which no longer performed the function of... nullifying air that humans find abhorrent. There was the smell of death around. It was the land of death and destruction.

There was some sort of honesty to it, a tranquil serenity which settled into Nikolaus's features as he gave a moment to himself to fondle these thoughts of his. In peace with himself, as if he were enlightened in some way or form, though what features show of him was nothing more than a smile in the dimness of the room.

But that broke as attention was gravitated back towards Nika. The Major turning to face her, as he had turned earlier to face what blank surface opposed him, aptly dubbed, wall.

"Wait....what do you mean?" A statement that got more attention than it deserved from the blonde male. A most wicked grin expanded upon his face, eyes widened with a sort of glee.

"Amestris was.....blown up? By....by the Fuhrer?"

Oho, she certainly is a token to hear. Does his statement need to be repeated twice to the likes of her for it to sink into that head of hers? Or is that but an ornament? Or so Nikolaus would muse to himself quietly.

A kitchen knife sank into the surface of the table suddenly, causing cracks along the wooden surface, a gloved hand clutched unto it tightly. Letting it go briefly afterwards. It was done forcefully so, passionately. Penetrating into the table as it was barely held apart from the duress of strength it suffered. But an ounce shown.

"I meant what I said, and said what I meant, obviously." He playfully replied with that sardonic tone of his, "Or does this courier need repeat his message twice?"

Assuming his seat in front of the girl, fists raised, and chin rested upon them. "A whorish Fuhrer slept on a nation's bosom, and ditched her concubine as if she were but a paltry prostitute sucking out of honeyed fingers and cock."

Silence was what came afterwards, tensions, a chance to allow thoughts to swirl, to fester and grow. Myriads of such things. The room's minor background would become more prominent, the whistling of the air that passes through the vent's slits, the hissing of the tobacco pipe's sparks dying out, yet eerily not a sound came from the officer. No distinctive breathing, no tangling of garments brushing against a surface. It was as if there was a lack of existence from him. Total lack of noise.

"BOOM!" An opportune scream broke what peaceful silence spiraled, followed by another clap of the hands, "The head of the North, the ass of the South, the arms East and West and the breast Central of Amestris, went just like... THAT."

Thus there was waiting from the master of mirrors, the Officer of Security Centrally known to be the eyes and talons that plucks bare that which defies the law.

BUMP D<