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fleasaremurder.livejournal.com) wrote in
bait_backup2011-06-14 01:33 pm
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War became a job, and love became a mystery, and heart and head were rent into two
*It's been a long day for Sirius. At least he's back on real Auror duty, and working hard despite being the greenest member of the squad still. He's taken initiative, even brought in this man--one Gilbert Kenniwick--on a variety of petty charges. Trafficking in restricted artifacts, trafficking in restricted creatures--kid stuff, enough to earn him a sentence but not really enough to interest the Auror office. It all could have been dealt through other channels if Sirius had not also been tracing a series of tenuous connections related to giant attacks. His confessed movements in and out of giant territory point right at him being involved somehow in attacks. Twice now, right after he has left giant territory, a major attack has gone down on a Muggle town. It's been more than a month since the last one and they caught Gilbert trying to catch a Portkey to Latvia this morning. Sirius'll be damned if he gets there.
But it's been five hours now and Gilbert isn't talking. His bag full of various treasures are his own, he says, and he's not taking orders from anyone. It's time, Sirius knows, to bring in someone who might just know what they're doing more than he does.
He approaches Alice's desk and drops the file on Gilbert in front of her, crossing his arms.*
Got a minute?
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She puts it down on the table as she turns to him, again asking to escalate.*
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The hilt smashes into the right side of Kenniwick's face and almost instantly she magically sends his chair flying backwards to slam against the wall.*
What do you say, Kenniwick?
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Sirius goes so far as to take a step forward before stopping himself. Alice knows what she's doing. He has to trust her. And this idiot might know something important, something they can't afford to just let go because Sirius is squeamish about the little trickle of blood coming out of their suspect's nose.*
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All you have to do is give us names, Gilbert.
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"I don't--I don't know anything. I don't know what you're talking about."
And Sirius is still against the wall, less leaning and more frozen. Everything he had done to Kenniwick--to any suspect--was little more than he had done to Snape at Hogwarts. It's bullying, little more, and nothing so grave as a knife had ever been involved. But Alice knows what she's doing, she's been on this for years, he's got to trust her, even if his certainty in her is waning.*
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She stands over him, her body blocking the light and her knife at his eye level.*
By the way, Kenniwick, my name's Alice Longbottom.
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"Fuck, fuck, you didn't have to bring in her, fucking hell, why is she here--let me go, I haven't done a damn thing--"
It's incredible, transfixing, to realize what fear her name strikes in this man. And, Sirius wonders, why--what must she have done to other people--lots and lots of other people--to make him react this way?*
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*She's whispering quietly, knowing he's listening.*
Names, and I'll stop.
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"I'm not scared of you."*
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Not yet?
*The flat side of the blade ghosts across one cheek, then the other.*
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"You can't hurt me, I'm a suspect--"
Sirius, finally finding the volition to move, takes out his wand and holds it at his side, waiting for--something.*
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Her hand brings the knife down to his left thumb.*
I can do anything I like because you're a suspect, Gilbert Kenniwick.
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"Fuck you, fuck you--"*
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She makes a show of it, raising her shoulder and sliding the knife; it looks more like she's about to cut into a loaf of bread than a thumb.
And then there is a little blood and a lot of screams.
Alice stops.*
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"All right, I was--I'm trying to--import things. Illegally. All right? Importing. That's it, I swear--"
But Sirius isn't even listening. He's horrified at the screaming and the blood--Kenniwick can't wipe it away, his hand is streaming, and Sirius doesn't even know what to do with his wand.*
Alice--
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Finally she turns around to see the shock on Sirius's face, and it confuses her. This is certainly not the first interrogation he has seen, and can't possibly be the worst.
Looking him up and down, she frowns, but gives her assessment of Kenniwick.*
I don't think he did it. But you could try sweating him out in here. Trust your judgment, he's your suspect.
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Can we talk for a minute? Outside?
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Hell, Alice, since when do you carry a knife that you use on suspects?
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After I dropped my wand in Scotland and was Disarmed by Rosier, I bought one. They're actually a bit more effective, if your suspect is already scared. Wands might scare them too much - they don't know what spell is coming. Knives present a concrete and obvious threat.
*In some way she feels like she's giving a lecture to a trainee instead of a colleague.*
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The same method is used in interrogations all the time with wands and nonverbal spells.
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Is that how we do things now?
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