The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago U-ARM Interrogation: Carter

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Nilum

The Wanderer Returned
Benefactor
U-ARM Interrogation: Carter
((@Potatocat & @Nilum ))​

It was all such a blur for him. There were a few moments where Carter faded in and out of consciousness, and he could vaguely recall a few words, loose threats. By the time he finally came back fully to consciousness, he could feel that he was sat upon a rather uncomfortable wooden chair. It creaked as he shuffled in place--was that one, or two cracked ribs? He couldn't quite be certain. His hands were tied behind his back, and he had a black hood on, constricting his vision. It seemed he was a prisoner, this time.

A door opens, and he could hear the scraping footsteps of a pair of boots. Three people, all likely male. One was heavy set, one old, and one light of foot. The one that was old walked toward him. Carter's hood is ripped off, the bright light overhead momentarily blinding him. As his eyes adjust, he sees that he was in a small room, with a single light hung a few feet over his head--keeping the focus on him, and giving the guards at the door plenty of ability to see him, without allowing him the favour of being able to see their faces.

The old man, on the other hand, was clearly visible. His wrinkled hands curl up into fists as he tilts Carter's head up by the chin, examining his injuries without much of a doctor's touch. "Tell me what I want to know, and I can ensure you'll be spared. Don't make this harder than it has to be. What is your name, and how do we get into The Coalition bunker with the least amount of suspicion?"
 
Carter licked a bit of blood that slowly leaked from a large split in his lip before addressing the old man. "Okay, so if you want to get into the Bunker here is what you need to do. You walk up to the guards at the front door, get on your knees, and suck his..." Before he could finish, the old man slammed his fist into Carter's jaw.
 
The old man shakes out his fist, and then glances at his knuckles. "How uncivilized," he mutters as he takes a step back from Carter. "This is your last chance. Tell me what I want to know, or you will not leave this room alive."
 
Carter chuckled and shook his head, "Go ahead and keep pretending I have an out in this, old man. Even if you did keep your word and let me live, you think that the Coalition would do the same? After I betray them? I'm going to die here today, and we both know that, so go ahead and just get it the fuck over with already."
 
"I gave you a chance to repent, and you turned your back on it. Remember that when you rot in Hell." He makes a single motion with his hand, and the hood is put back on and tightly wrapped around his throat--just enough that he could still breath, but sufficiently tight for it to be uncomfortable. He's punched one more time by one of the guards, and is left to sit there for an indeterminate amount of time. It felt like a few minutes, or was it an hour? Perhaps two? It was difficult to discern the passage of time like this. Difficult to focus on that sort of thing, with an execution looming on the horizon.

Then, the sound of silence is interrupted with gunfire. Yelling. The door being blown down, a few small pieces striking him as he is coated in wood shavings and dust. A loud bang reaches his ears, stunning him with a ringing in his ears that muted the world around him. His hood is ripped off, and though it took half a minute to recover, he finally sees it: A familiar face. The two guards at the door were dead, and standing before him was none other than an old rival of his... Jenive.

Her hand, gripped on her pistol, is aimed at his head. The sounds of gunfire continue to rage nearby, though grow further and further distant by the minute. It seemed U-ARM was losing this structure. Based on the smell, it couldn't be within Bunker Chicago--there was no hint of oil in the air. Adrik passes by the doorway, and glances inside. Seeing Jenive aiming at Carter, he shakes his head. Speaking in Russian, he sounds severe, and somewhat disappointed, but he leaves her to make the decision herself.

Jenive's grip on her pistol tightens a little, her finger all but squeezing the trigger. She whispers her next words, and though the ringing had yet to fully subside, it was still audible enough for him to understand. "Give me one reason I should spare your life."
 
Carter was spun and twisted through a roller coaster of emotions. Resigned to death, then relieved as the sounds of gunfire and explosions signaled his rescue, ad then back down to thoroughly disappointed to find that it was Jenive standing there with a gun to his head. He watched as Adrik walked past, seemingly giving Jenive permission. "Adrik! Adrik come back here!" Carter yelled for the man, but seeing that he had fully given the decision to Jenive, all Carter could do was sigh and look Jenive in the eye.

"Why should you spare me? Well, it seems to me that the Coalition needs as many skilled marksmen as they can get right now." He paused, giving Jenive a big toothy smile. "Besides, I've always been a better shot than you."
 
"I'm sorry, but that's just not good enough." Jenive glares at the man before her, and takes a deep breath. "And today..." Before Carter could hear anything else, she pulls the trigger. The last thing he would see is a bright flash, and the last sound, a bang.

Carter is dead.
 
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