The Voice of Fear Pt I (closed)

[Y'roth Helghast]

"This... this... is a-a-an outrage."

"I agree."

"How can you... How did you... How does the Inquisitoriate..."

"By authorizations from the Legal Authorization for Advanced Containment Documents."

"I just... I just... don't understand..."

"Denial is a normal reaction by this point."

"W-w-w-what?"

"Your body is enduring a level of stress it normally does not have to handle. In fact, the stress has broken a mental threshold in which your mind is starting to turn in upon itself, ignoring rational thought and deluding itself as protection from the truth that strikes at the core of every citizen once they realize their folly when they betray the Empire."

The masked head of the figure bound to the chair turned sharply towards the sound of the voice. The man still wore his modern business suit, a tight cut and fashionable, sharp in the way that meant he meant business to those who were in the know. He was a little older, nearing his 40s. Relatively that was still young with all the advancements but this man was old enough to be nostalgic. Nostalgic of the deluding weakness that the Empire had sought to bring to an end. The white stripe across his jacket was stained with red smears. Resisting arrest did not suit the public image of the politicians it seemed. His face was more or less intact but that was hidden beneath a sense dampening shroud.

Major Y'roth Helghast stood a meter behind the man, his arms crossed over his chest, adorned in his black Inquisitor uniform, the blood red crest of the Empire on his right shoulder. His hair was swept back, one eye glowing red in the shadows of the room as IMP relayed information to his neural transplant. His voice reverberated with a metallic ring to it.

"Overcome your mental weakness, Mr. Donovan. Or I, only seeking to further the Empire against those who would plant their sedetious seeds among the innocent masses, will assist you."

"I-I-I-I... I don't know... It's s-s-so dark. All my life I've... only meant the best... Why are the shadows-"

"For the Empire? You're going to blatantly lie to the face of an Inquisitor?"

"I only meant the best for the people! Don't kill me!"

"For the people? Why would we detain and execute a completely loyal citizen to the Empire? Attempt to explain yourself."

Y'roth had not moved and the prisoner had been unable to hear as the door to the cell opened and a black column slowly and silently moved into the room, followed by the familiar sphere-like avatar of the Inquisitoriate super mainframe, IMP.

"The people's voice... The government should not be so limiting... It limits the people... the shadows... it is designed to serve... shadows... and protect. What is a citizen if not... if not a slave...when they their lives... the shadows are coming... their lives are controlled... every decision... by the government. One man... does not have..."

"Do you know what Bavo Six is, Mr. Donovan?"

"U-uhh?"

"Yes, it is the source of your vertigo. It is the source of the shadows. It is also why your brain is complying so well with my requests. It has nothing to do with your willingness to serve the Empire. Bavo Six is an incredibly powerful truth serum, easily produced, and side effects are altered vision and paranoia. But I assure you, as concretely as your own induced honesty has condemned you to treason..."

The man let out a garbled whelp from his throat.

"... I am the source of your fear. I am the source of your Nightmares."

His right eye began to glow red again as IMP relayed the most current information to him.

"Prisoner CLL-49810723, you are accused and found guilty of treason to the Galactic Empire. We will now retrieve any more information that will be imperative to securing the peace and insuring that your seditious ideals have not infected any other citizens."

The door closed behind him and the black cylinder opened, revealing a wide array of Y'roth's interrogation tools and materials.

[IMP]

PRISONER/// CLL-49810723
SESSION/// 49810723
INTERROGATOR/// XXXXX XXXXXXXX
AUTHORIZATION/// XXXX XXXX XXXX XXXX-94, LAACD
SUMMARY COMMENCEMENT/// ACCUSED AND FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON TO THE GALACTIC EMPIRE FOR ATTEMPTING TO IMPRESS SEDETIOUS IDEALS AGAINST THE SECURITY OF THE PEOPLE

BEGIN RECORDING SESSION/// ...

Deep within the Inquisitoriate complex, within the dungeons of the subterranean sector, the bowels of Coruscant, IMP had entered the room and remotely unlocked the storage unit as Major Helghast approached it.

"IMP, begin a composite scan of the prisoner, I want a readout on vitals and defficiencies."

"Please... Please... Don't... kill me..."

"I won't."

The shrouded face turned to the direction of voice again, breathing in short breaths, unsure of what the Inquisitor meant. No living organism seemed to be able to understand how Helghast spoke. As if something were missing from his language. IMP believed that Helghast had simply truncated his manner of speaking, often removing any of the given... body language and connotations so many organisms were fond.

The small orb floated before the prisoner and a red light arced over the body, running from head to toe and back again. Vitals signs were obtained and IMP began to sort the information for 'defficiencies.' Aware of the routine, IMP knew exactly what Helghast was asking for.

[Y'roth Helghast]

The scan was relayed to Helghast's ocular implant as soon as the data had been converted to more presentable information. He didn't look to the prisoner yet, he took his time setting out assorted utensils and ensuring he had the right chemicals prepared. Given the prisoner's current state, Helghast estimated a twenty to thirty minute session before he was finished. For now.

Y'roth's ability to extract the truth was one thing but the real knack lay in his intuitive ability to determine whether or not the subject still withheld the complete truth from him. He could detect it in another person like reading a book, subtle tell tale gestures and idiosynchrosies that gave his victim away. He'd never been wrong. Very few had died still holding a single secret to their grave. This man would lay his soul bare and be wishing for release from the burden of his secrecy by the time Helghast had finished with him.

Of course, someone like Crestmere had never been a subject of interrogation but Helghast had been around the doppleganger so much that he could sort out the bare thread of truth in Crestmere's personality with only some effort. What Helghast applauded Crestmere in was that the pattern of idiosynchrosies were rarely the same and that was nigh inhuman skill in that aspect.

He stood, the small storage unit now had a tray set into the top of it, displaying Y'roth's tools of choice, gleamingly sharp even in the dim light of the room. As he moved to the side of the prisoner, the storage unit followed and moved to the side, being directed by IMP remotely for Helghast's convenience. A button was pressed and the chair lurched, the prisoner gasping in surprise. It lurched again and then creaked as the gears rotated and lifted the seat off the ground. It shifted then, the seat of it and the back rest straightening to a horizontal position, now serving as an operation table.

Y'roth's fingers laced around the grip of the injection gun, his other hand loading a cartidge into the chamber, the glass vial filled with a concoction of enzymes and proteins, 'preparing' the subject for the optimal experience.

"IMP, prepare a playback of the Emperor's speech to the 'Declaration of a New Order.' Also prepare a background of the noise traffic from Conflict ICC - 5035692..."

"Sir, yes Sir."

When Helghast next looked to the prisoner, his implant used IMP's scan to update what he was looking at. The prisoner's vitals were on display and he also had a material read out on any defficiencies detected within the body. Scar tissue from surgeries, arthritis, damaged organs, nodes of gathered nervous tissue, and detailed readouts on each joint. The prisoner no longer appeared anything human in the sense of what a normal person might see. It was like a map to Helghast, another anatomy exercise. And each successful manipulation of the given subject would yield the truth.

The prisoner's collar was pushed down as the barrel of the injection gun was pressed to his neck. The cartidge jumped, the prisoner yelped in surprise, the cold steel and the needle bring a sensational shock, as the needle broke the skin and the substance was pumped into the man's jugular. He released the empty cartridge and prepared another. But Helghast set the gun on the tray and grabbed a pair of scissors.

The prisoner was suddenly staring into the light on the ceiling as the shroud was removed. Y'roth could see the face underneath the mask just fine with IMP's transmitted scan but he wanted the prisoner to be aware, raising the paranoia and anxiety.

"Help me... I only intend-"

"You will only answer questions directed to you or I will perform correctional action until you are willing to comply with the interrogation."

Needless to say, the traitor went silent.

[Y'roth Helghast]

Donovan's vision was nothing but darkness, he was trying to calm his breathing but to no avail, the ideas of what might happen or what could already be happening were bombarding his mind and sweat formed in immediate response as consequence of his compounding fears. That voice though... It took shape in his mind at every word, it couldn't possibly belong to any human, some humanoid maybe, shaping at every tone and consonant to epitomize Donovan's fear.

"Your father was a senator on the list of 2000, deemed traitors by the late Emperor himself. And when his assets were liquidated, you were sent to a correctional institute and then became a prominent member of the Sub-Adult Group. You were finally enlisted into Chancellor Anar's department and have worked at that station ever since."

Donovan bit his lip painfully. His biography had started off horribly, reminding him of the blemish that his father had left on his future career. And now that was finally coming back on Donovan to kill him as well. Was that his only crime? How cruel could the machination of the Empire truly be?

Screams and gunfire suddenly echoed inside the small cell. Explosions, the grinding of metal on metal, collapsing structures, and the din of raw voices raised to a roar as one or another of the unseen number would die. Donovan could hear men crying in that cacophony of destruction, he could sense the despair of a last fight as wounded men moaned beneath the battle cries and the gunfire and combat continued.

And then that voice pierced his skull like a pin needle. Not the voice of fear, but the voice of overwhelming power. That man was dead, gone, but from this background of some battle, the voice of the late Emperor rose to the forefront and began his speech upon the founding of the first Galactic Empire.

"Your background is a suitable breeding ground for the foundation of a pattern of treasonous behaviour. You had drafts of amendments to the Constitution that would have added corrupting democratic elements once more into our society, did you not, Prisoner CLL-49810723?"

"I-I-I-I had drafts to amendm-m-m-m-ments, y-y-yes..."

"A footnote within one of the drafts is directly quoted as 'polling the populace on a massive scale and reacting to the results in an according manner'. That is wasteful beauracracy and an attempt to manipulate the citizen by complicating the system so that it could be tampered by your rebel associates, isn't that true?"

The Voice of Fear played upon the worst circumstance that Donovan could imagine and drew it to a perception of reality. Donovan had only wanted the best for the people.

"Rebel as-s-s-s-sociates?"

Helghast drew a twenty centimeter long needle out, holding it at the hilt and activating it with the pull of a trigger. The needle instantly heated to a glowing orange and the Major didn't hesitate when he drove the needle into the man's knee, a precise placement that the needle slid between bone and muscle with ease and skewered the nerve gathering there.

The emulated screams within the room were no longer alone in their efforts to convey their pain.