2010-02-01: Widening The Faults



Date: February 1, 2010


Alex is questioned again… and Jo plays "nice"

"Widening The Faults"

Building 27 — Governor's Island

With a tight-lipped wicked smile, Jo opens the door to Alex's cell. She looks very different than her UPS alter-ego. Her hair is pulled back into tight pony tale and she's dressed in a well tailored black suit matched with a white blouse and ridiculously high heels. With an echo clap against the pavement, Jo prowls the edges of the room as she looks at the prisoner in question.

"Dr. Lambert," it's a mirthless greeting given with an equally mirthless smile. "Feeling comfortable?" her tone is empty, cruel, even. "So." She has a file folder tucked under her arms which she proceeds to open and extract several pictures — all of rugged looking men, some of which Alex may or may not recognize, although it's unlikely, "Tell me, do you recognize any of these men?"

The days, running together, haven't seen the prisoner's condition change much at all. Jo gets her suits; Alex gets her hospital scrub-looking things, substandard, institutionalized clothing for inmates and psychiatric patients. In here, wherever here may be, Alex is something of both. The interviewers change, but everything else stays the same. The clap of the heels on the concrete floor are enough are enough to alert the more-or-less lucid Alex that today's 'interview' is with yet another new face.

In fact, she's lucid enough that when her name is called, complete with honorific, she lifts her head. In the past days her resistance has been waning; the strain of being forced to sit in this steel chair, shackled in steel, and kept in the upper floors of Building 27 has taken its toll, to be sure. When she's asked a question now, if it's something simple and not endangering others, she answers. Despite waning resistance, she's yet to crack and reveal any significant information that these AP thugs don't already no. Before she looks, she blinks her lids a few times, heavily. A cursory look at each of the faces, then a robotic "No" is all Jo gets.

"Interesting," Jo says blandly with a tilt of her head. "I'd thought murderers remembered their victims. At least, that's the general pattern." Her lips curl upwards into a tight-lipped smile. "You killed them. You and your friends who raided the trains." She blinks as she paces the room, yet her gaze continues to remain on Alex. She chuckles mirthlessly before scoffing, "Well allow me to introduce you." With a very pointed turn, she takes several steps towards Alex, "These men had families." She extracts another photo — that displays one of the soldiers in a family photo with several small blonde children. "These children are now missing their father. Prob-Lt. Edwards died in the train raid. He went into a coma and didn't wake up. There were no brain waves."

She replaces that photo and pulls out another, "This is Whitney Hunt. Both of her parents were members of the military; members on the team. She's an orphan now." The marine's tone is empty, dispassionate.

"So tell me, Dr. Lambert, are your lives worth more than ours? We do our jobs and we do them well, but you lot of terrorists felt it necessary to damage us. Do you think this makes me happy?" Strangely, she keeps smiling that eerie tight-lipped smile.

When Jo points out who they are, Alex winces, closing her eyes tightly, and taking a deep breath. Maybe she should've know that was going to happen, that they'd try tactics like that. It doesn't change anything, though; she did kill them. With cause, but the end result is still the same. "They weren't children. They knew the risk of their job. Adults, capable of making their own decisions." The logic can't stop her from crying, however.

Long about the time the pictures of the kids and families come out, she can't bear to look any more; her eyes are pressed shut, and she's shaking her head side to side without any particular reason. "No…no…this isn't about happiness. This isn't about lives being more or less valuable. This is about freedoms. I didn't choose what I am! YOU chose to hunt us down and kidnap us…YOU chose to do this!" When she finally does bring herself to look at Jo, her eyes are bloodshot, wild, and crazed. She's doing her best to keep from spitting venom at this woman; none of these AP agents understand, but then, she doesn't expect them too.

She blinks at the Alex, but doesn't flinch at the outburst. In fact, Jo doesn't even seem angry at the notion. "Have you ever trained for the marines, Dr. Lambert? Have you ever been so devoted to your country as to give it your all? And I mean your all. Your life, your soul, your heart. Have you ever laid it on the line to fight to protect the people of this great nation and help it stay great?"

She poppysmics her lips before turning away. "I imagine you can't comprehend the sacrifice these men and women made. Many of them served in Iraq or Afghanistan. Many of them were assigned to escort the prisoners without any say in the manner. Why? Because that is what it means to be a good soldier. A good marine. A good American."

"And you killed them." The tone is nonchalant, not accusatory. "And you thought nothing of it. You did it in the name of freedom, but you, unlike my esteemed colleagues, you, Dr. Lambert had a choice."

"It was still their job…" Alex manages to sob out at least once before her chin falls to her chest once again. "If they fought for freedom, why were they keeping citizens prisoner? We're not all terrorists you know…not until you make us into them, in your mind…" Unable to wipe her cheeks, tears stream down, running to her chin, until then get wiped off on her top. "Even so…I didn't bring kids into this…YOU did," she attempts to add as a little stinger; mostly, it's just a jab into thin air. Jo definitely does not strike her as the sentimental type, unless it suits her methods.

"I didn't bring anyone into this. You give me credit I don't deserve," Jo says still emotionlessly. "But you are a weapon, aren't you Dr. Lambert? I suppose we have that in common." Now she actually smirks. "So, let me understand this, you don't have a hint of remorse for the lives you took?" This draws a wicked smile over her lips. "A little longer here and I think you could become an excellent soldier. You've already dissociated from the destruction you purposely caused. It happens to all of us eventually. You must be vengeful in a way. Somewhere deep in your character." Her wicked smile grows larger, reaching her eyes, "You're a killer. And it probably was always dormant inside you, but you let it out."

Now that…THAT'S something Alexandra isn't exactly prepared to face. While she listens, she sobs. When Jo finishes, the inevitable eruption begins. Cold, logical Alex is replaced by frantic, panicky, caged-animal Alex. Sort of. Her eyes are once again as big as silver dollars, watery, and still bloodshot from a lack of good sleep, even with all the drugs.

"No…no…no…no…" she sobs, shaking her head rather energetically, panicky. She's pleading. With Jo. With herself. There's nobody here that can absolve her here, however.

"I…not on purpose…" she sobs. Lie. It had to be purposeful, if she was using her power. Murder is murder, right? Cold-blood or self-defense are just varying degrees; the crime remains the same. "Of COURSE I think about what I did…all the time! I was…there were kids! Guns! Shooting! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?" she explodes, some spittle flying out of her mouth towards Jo as she goes over the edge in this session, like she has in her previous sessions.

"Welcome to America, doll. You have the freedom of speech and chose not to exercise it. No, you decided to pursue government agents who, really, were doing their jobs. You wanted to kill our people." Jo clucks her tongue coolly. Her words turn to a whisper, "You and your people planned it. You executed it. And you murdered. Plain and simple. Cut and dry. And, by what I know of the law, any planned murder is premeditated. Murder in the first." She tilts her head, "I'm looking for justice. Nothing else. So tell me, who helped? Who was part of your plan?"

Murder. Premeditated. First. The explosion of rage is rapidly quenched with that little gem. "Never…" she says, continuing to shake her head. Her eyes are once again back to being averted, to looking at the floor. The sudden struggle against the restraints has died again. "I'm never going to tell you their names. Go ahead and kill me…I'm not giving them up. Get your justice." Those are pretty bold statements for a woman in her position, one might argue. Is it a sign of strength? Or is it a sign that she's to the point where her own life isn't worth anything in her own eyes?

"Oh, Dr. Lambert," Jo just shakes her head and offers her strained smile, "I have no intention of killing you. Or of letting you see the light of day. Get used to looking at these walls. I'm sure they will be the only ones you'll see for many years to come." Her ridiculously levelled voice fills the room emotionlessly. "You haven't been here long. And, unlike a real soldier or marine, you haven't been trained to withstand this. No, you will crack. Everyone does. It's just a matter of time." She tilts her head at Alex one last time before she pads to the door. She opens it and then turns to face her prisoner once more, "Have a nice day." That said, she pads through the door and closes it behind her, As she reaches the hall she unhinges her smile and virtually spits, "Bitch."

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