08-01-2020, 11:12 PM
Marcus watched as Ryker's mood went from white hot anger- the metal of the cuffs cutting into his straining wrists- to barely controlled. Rage was not the issue. There was nothing wrong with rage, whether cold and icy or hot and fiery. The question was control. The man had some, after a fashion. The real concern was whether that control was haphazard and sporadic. A tool had to be dependable. A brittle tool was useless- and in many cases, deadly to the one wielding it.
He raised an eyebrow, speaking coolly. "I've seen the video. Whatever you were working on with the Syndicate had nothing to do with what happened." He remembered his own experience all too clearly. He barely suppressed a shudder. "An Ijiraq feeding is a painful thing, I know. But they had nothing to do with your attack of Ms. Ruseyev." Yes, he had recognized her, both from the Almaz, and far more importantly, from the Grand Ball. All guests had been vetted and she had drawn no little attention. 'Possessed' was the only word for it, an Ijiraq speaking through her mouth. He remembered well the struggle to shield her from the power. Apparently, she had done the same to Ryker.
Curious, he seized the Force and probed with spirit at the man. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. His sparring with Andre had not included study. And though Pyotr had been a willing pawn for a time, he had never been able to properly experiment on the man when holding the power. Something he'd rectify at the Consulate. So his probing was cautious, tentative, poking gently, searching for whatever it was that connected a person to the Force. He knew looking at himself would do nothing. He had tested that before, especially after seeing Jensen James' healing weaves.
His questing thread of spirit stopped, as if something were blocking it. He looked at where it happened and it seemed odd. A single point and yet...there was a twisting to it, a winding down into a depth. As if it was a point and yet inside was...open, somehow. Spherical, though not in any three dimensional sense. A part of him was excited. A hypersphere? Was this some sort of higher dimensional structure? He stored the thought away for a later time. Instead, he considered the blockage, the nothingness that he couldn't get past, that seemed to "coat" the inside of that "sphere", repelling his thread the way the positive ends of two magnets repelled each other.
His weave dissipated and he focused on the man. "Apparently, she did leave you a parting gift." Purposefully, he let a sly grin show. "Seems appropriate given what you tried to do to her." He watched for the explosion. It was only a needle. And Marcus had many of them ready. Ryker would not enjoy his time here. But if he was smart and could learn, he would be useful. "I know how to remove it." He thought he did, at any rate. He didn't need to see the blockage to know where it was. A sharpened blade of spirit with enough force should be enough to slice it through.
He tried to seem cheery- optimistic even. [color]"Actually, this is good for you. You don't have to take the suppressive drugs to keep you safe."[/color] To keep everyone else, safe, in fact. But euphemisms were part of this. He stood. "We will speak again, when your system has cleared." With a clear head- and some time alone- he would be more malleable.
He left the room, stopping to leave instructions with the guards. "See to it he does not receive any more drugs. And put him in his own cell." The man looked at him questioningly. The prison was not a place to coddle the prisoners. Marcus' face hardened, his brown eyes flashing with anger. His voice was deadly quiet. "I mean what I say. You will do as I say." The threat hung there. They knew who he was. And if they were smart enough, they could put two and two together and figure out what he was. Still, to cement his words, he seized the Force and wrapped a vise of air around the man's throat. He hid the amusement that came to him, reenacting a scene from the movies. His voice was cold. "My attention on you would be a very bad thing."
The man's face was starting to turn red, the terror in his eyes deliciously palpable. He held the Force grip for a moment longer and then released. The man breathed in great gulping gasps. Marcus' voice was cool and friendly. "One other thing. He is not allowed to sleep. Noise. Water. Whatever it takes. No beatings, mind. Nothing to physically hurt him. But no sleep." It wasn't mercy that made him add the restriction. There was no mercy in this. Sleep deprivation could break a person's mind after long enough. Truly snap it.
He smiled at the thought, wondering whether Ryker would snap before Marcus saw what he was looking for.
He raised an eyebrow, speaking coolly. "I've seen the video. Whatever you were working on with the Syndicate had nothing to do with what happened." He remembered his own experience all too clearly. He barely suppressed a shudder. "An Ijiraq feeding is a painful thing, I know. But they had nothing to do with your attack of Ms. Ruseyev." Yes, he had recognized her, both from the Almaz, and far more importantly, from the Grand Ball. All guests had been vetted and she had drawn no little attention. 'Possessed' was the only word for it, an Ijiraq speaking through her mouth. He remembered well the struggle to shield her from the power. Apparently, she had done the same to Ryker.
Curious, he seized the Force and probed with spirit at the man. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. His sparring with Andre had not included study. And though Pyotr had been a willing pawn for a time, he had never been able to properly experiment on the man when holding the power. Something he'd rectify at the Consulate. So his probing was cautious, tentative, poking gently, searching for whatever it was that connected a person to the Force. He knew looking at himself would do nothing. He had tested that before, especially after seeing Jensen James' healing weaves.
His questing thread of spirit stopped, as if something were blocking it. He looked at where it happened and it seemed odd. A single point and yet...there was a twisting to it, a winding down into a depth. As if it was a point and yet inside was...open, somehow. Spherical, though not in any three dimensional sense. A part of him was excited. A hypersphere? Was this some sort of higher dimensional structure? He stored the thought away for a later time. Instead, he considered the blockage, the nothingness that he couldn't get past, that seemed to "coat" the inside of that "sphere", repelling his thread the way the positive ends of two magnets repelled each other.
His weave dissipated and he focused on the man. "Apparently, she did leave you a parting gift." Purposefully, he let a sly grin show. "Seems appropriate given what you tried to do to her." He watched for the explosion. It was only a needle. And Marcus had many of them ready. Ryker would not enjoy his time here. But if he was smart and could learn, he would be useful. "I know how to remove it." He thought he did, at any rate. He didn't need to see the blockage to know where it was. A sharpened blade of spirit with enough force should be enough to slice it through.
He tried to seem cheery- optimistic even. [color]"Actually, this is good for you. You don't have to take the suppressive drugs to keep you safe."[/color] To keep everyone else, safe, in fact. But euphemisms were part of this. He stood. "We will speak again, when your system has cleared." With a clear head- and some time alone- he would be more malleable.
He left the room, stopping to leave instructions with the guards. "See to it he does not receive any more drugs. And put him in his own cell." The man looked at him questioningly. The prison was not a place to coddle the prisoners. Marcus' face hardened, his brown eyes flashing with anger. His voice was deadly quiet. "I mean what I say. You will do as I say." The threat hung there. They knew who he was. And if they were smart enough, they could put two and two together and figure out what he was. Still, to cement his words, he seized the Force and wrapped a vise of air around the man's throat. He hid the amusement that came to him, reenacting a scene from the movies. His voice was cold. "My attention on you would be a very bad thing."
The man's face was starting to turn red, the terror in his eyes deliciously palpable. He held the Force grip for a moment longer and then released. The man breathed in great gulping gasps. Marcus' voice was cool and friendly. "One other thing. He is not allowed to sleep. Noise. Water. Whatever it takes. No beatings, mind. Nothing to physically hurt him. But no sleep." It wasn't mercy that made him add the restriction. There was no mercy in this. Sleep deprivation could break a person's mind after long enough. Truly snap it.
He smiled at the thought, wondering whether Ryker would snap before Marcus saw what he was looking for.