2010-02-23: Smokin'



Date: February 23, 2010


Jack gets put into the interrogation chamber, he's so lucky the agent sucks at it.


Building 27

Jack is bored

About an hour ago (as close as he can reckon), two guards rounded him up, slapped a pair of heavy steel manacles around his wrists, and hauled him off to this tiny, featureless room. His cuffs were chained to a metal ring set in the floor and he was left there. To stand. And wait.

And wait.

This isn't the first time Jack has been locked up. It's more humane than some of the prisons he's seen, but a nice cell is still a cell. Being here has given him some of his edge back, though. A year of running his pub with Trina had left him soft and vulnerable. No more. He still carries a few extra pounds, but he carries them well. He stands straight, with his shoulders squared and his muscles relaxed. He wears his prison issue clothing like it's a fine suit, completely unabashed of who, where, and what he is. The subtle shift in posture and attitude leaves him looking more like an experienced veteran and less like a faded bravo. Even his scarred, milky white eye and the grey salted through his hair seem more fitting.

Humanity is the name of the game here at Alpha Protocol, as long as you're a human. Unfortunately, most the 'guests' in the barracks are treated less than that by a lot of the agents. When Cody marches down the hallway to the cell she spies the metal chair outside the door and frowns just a little. It's enough to make her bristle, literally, but she keeps her composure.

Grabbing the chair, she opens the door to the interrogation cell and walks in. Without turning her back on the prisoner, she closes the door behind her. Then she walks behind him and places the chair in a spot where he can easily reach it. "Mister Derex, how are you today?" It's a frivolous question, she already knows how he is, he's caged like an animal.

Jack looks up when the door opens, focusing his good eye on this newcomer. Pointedly, he tugs at the chain that connects his wrists to the floor. It's not long enough to allow him to sit down. "I've been better," he says, his voice dry. "I'm locked away in this piss hole. But you know that. So before we get to you fucking me over, can you at least unlock this contraption so I can sit down?"

Examining the chains, Cody frowns and then walks back to the door. "I'll be back with the key." From his file, Jack is a fighter, but so is she. Within moments, the blonde woman has returned with a key to the chains but before she unlocks him, she secures the door from the inside by keypad. If he's smart enough to figure out her ten-digit code before she grapples him, then he deserves whatever he finds on the other side. "I don't suppose I have to tell you that once these are off, you're to stay seated."

"Sure. Whatever you say, lady," Jack replies. He grabs the chair, spins it around, and straddles it. He'd been planning to kill her until she locked the door from the inside. Now it wouldn't do him any good. He'll have to bide his time.
"So," he continues, drawing the word out as he meets Cody's gaze. "Who do I have to screw to get a cigarette?"

Cody's lips twitch at one corner and she raises her eyebrows just a little. "You'll have to screw me, Mister Derex." Reaching into one of the pockets of her flak vest, she pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds. "I hope these are your brand." It probably doesn't matter at this point, he'd probably smoke a bayleaf wrapped in a piece of construction paper. "But before you get the cigarette, I need to ask you one question." To prove the point, she pulls out one of the cigarettes and holds it in front of her. "How large an object can you relocate?"

Jack narrows his eyes and stares lustily at the cigarette. "For that, I'll screw you twice. Thoroughly."

He's evading the quesiton, but in the end it's a small bit of information for a very large reward. He wants that Marlboro. "About ten pounds," he admits. "A little more if I really push it. And nothing bigger than a couple of square feet."

Cody coolly hands over the cigarette and only the cigarette. From her other pocket, she produces a Bic lighter and strikes it up, holding the flame just enough to let him see that it actually works. "For the light, you need to answer another question. Can you only bring objects to you? Or can you send them to a specific location?" She's trying to compartmentalize him, how dangerous is he?

Jack narrows his eyes as he takes the cigarette. He sticks it between his lips and speaks around it. "So that's how you want to play this, eh?" he queries tightly. "Okay. Fine. Have it your way. I can only bring stuff to me."

Lie. It's a good one, though. Jack has a lot of practice after growing up with Ignatius Rasmussen for a father, working for Deacon, and concealing his activites from Trina whenever possible.

The lighter is flicked and Jack gets the first taste of a lit cigarette in who knows how long. Cody leans back and puts the little implement back into her pocket and walks a few paces away from the smoking man. "Do you have to see the things that you need to relocate?" The question she really wants to ask is if he could relocate a heart into his hand, or another vital organ. Maybe a brain. "As for the way we play it, it's up to you." There's so much more she wants/needs to ask the man, too bad they're being listened to.

Inhale. Exhale. "Oh. My. God." The words come out as a purr. "That's delicious."

Jack is so lost in his pleasure that it takes a moment for him to come back to himself and realize that he's still being questioned. "I have my cigarette," he says, pausing for another drag. "Give me one reason why I should keep talking to you."

With a small smirk, Cody holds up the rest of the pack. "Why? For more. If you keep talking to me, I'll keep you supplied with cigarettes." It's a small price to pay for what she needs to know. He might up the ante with a higher price, but for now, he's satiated and she's somewhat satisfied with the answers he's given. "Now, do you need to see what you want to relocate?"

"Okay," Jack agrees. "But I want to stay supplied. And I want a bottle of scotch." Confident that Cody will agree, he takes another draw from his smoke, savors it, and continues. "I don't have to see it, but I have to know where it is. And it has to be close. A couple hundred feet."

He's not lying. Not exactly. More like… selling himself short. He smiles blandly and flicks ash on the floor.

Jack Derex. Definitely weapons grade. Narrowing her eyes at him, the agent nods, just once. "Scotch is easy enough, you'll get it tomorrow. No bottle." He'll get it in an applejuice container but at least he'll get it. "You'll get one carton of cigarettes a week. No more, no less. I don't know how much you smoke, but if it's more than that, you'll just have to make due." Cody's not exactly a hard person to get along with, really. "Now, is there anything you want to ask me?" They all have questions, the same ones… When are they going to get out… When can they see their family… So on and so forth.

"We both know you aren't allowed to answer the questions I really want to ask," Jack replies. "This isn't my first date, so don't try to dick around with me." Slowly, he reaches across the table and plucks up the pack of Marlboros. "Thanks for the smokes," he drawls. "You wanna screw here, or should we go back to my cell? It's cozy. Nice little shelf we could do it on."

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