when — may 22
where — water treatment plant
who — @gabe-reyes
A classic Volkov skill is interrogation. An art taught through observation first, watching monstrous father make tiny humans out of burly men through cleverly placed words. Like adding pressure on the brain, right in the sore spots, until someone gives in. Daiyu has never been very good at it — it’s something she’s berated for, something she’s excluded from. Which is to say: her father doesn’t want her asking their subjects questions, he only wants her to maim them. He looks at his youngest and knows she’s no good at psychological warfare ( not even the perfect pawn for it ) but so very good at all other kinds of war crimes, if pushed hard enough. He loves her best when coated in blood, which is to say he doesn’t love her at all.
But then, take this situation. A man, wounded. A dark water plant, with no way out. His body littered with man-made wounds that insinuate that there’s someone after him, which might be the biggest issue. Here’s what Daiyu wants: to just see him healed and to not think of him. Here’s what she knows what needs to happen: risk-assessment through questioning and, if necessary, eliminate that threat.
She really does not want to do any of it. The dark presses at the sides of her vision, even with the sharp light of flashlights moving around, and it’s too much like punishment. Too much like the basement. To be literally shut in somewhere, not by the hand of an enforcer or her father, somehow feels bad all the same. Some people believe in God, don’t they? Maybe this is that God punishing them: just another flood meant to cleanse the earth. It would be so easy to believe in such things, but Daiyu doesn’t. Daiyu just knows she can’t show up with a random hurt dude with no idea who he is, if they’re ever to get out of here.
So, she crouches down. Suri lingers somewhere in the background, that inexplicable spark of a girl that Daiyu cannot begin to understand. There’s a gesture at one of his wounds, a mild threat of digging her fingers through the bandage into marred skin. In stead she extends a half-full water bottle. “So, who’s got it out for you? This shit’s fresh, so is anyone gonna come knocking for you?” Might be a blessing in disguise, if they can get the door open. Daiyu would prefer fighting an intruder over this. “More importantly: why are you here?”
