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[turps]

Some things you just can't let go. Like being spammed with Lambs pics. *cries*

For Loca and JM, check these out, because they're in

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[hegemony.livejournal.com]

Oh, oh, and when JC would finally get a job at the compound the next day, Kevin would tell him that the powers that be would think he's a good interrogator, partly because he knows how super-spies work, and partly because he doesn't need a lot of clearance.

It's at this time that JC gets fitted for a uniform. A linen shirt, cotton slacks and a waist jacket with a strange cut. And the last part, a steel-boned corset, meant to make JC seem thinner than he already is, color that makes him look more gaunt than he already is, like he's been worked and forced to obey. The dark blue makes him look pale. They give him a haircut that makes him look like he's been privelaged enough to let his hair grow out, like he's been there for longer than he can remember. They give him a gun, that hangs off his corset, not his waist so it feels a little un-natural. His daggers sit on his waist, though, because Kevin said that AJ talked to those powers that be and told him that he's much better with shiny sharp pieces of metal than with a gun.

And now, now that he's all spiffied up, Kevin would come into their room, and put his books down and take his glasses off and sigh.

They came in with someone. Kevin would say. You need to get dressed.

JC would nod, and move to his closet and take out his pieces of his uniform, stored in his royal blue box, and slide into each piece of his under uniform, the hidden holster with the six shooter under his arm next to his wifebeater, his twisted metal knife sheathed under his pant leg. his shirt and slacks, his pants and shoes. Kevin helps him with a bit with his corset, tighter and tighter, breathing and pulling, breathing and pulling,until its on. After it would be done, JC would snap his holsters on and slip his dagger sheaths on to his belt and walk out with the folder that Kevin gives him.

He would have done this before, just not with this place, not with the federation, so while in the elevator down into the bowels of the compound, he'd only look at this guy's name, and why he got caught.

And a few minutes later, he'd be standing there with three other men, two being other interrogators, the third being the prisoner, and he'd watch as the other two attacked this guy, beating him, leaving him there for dead because he won't open up his anwsers.

Leave me with him, JC nods, and the other two look at him funny. They still both think he's scared to fit into the other side of the equation that brought him here.

Leave me here with him JC would say again, this time more agressive and serious and the others are forced to just do as he says. The man on the floor would just sit there, catching his breath in his denial.

JC would creep closer. So, Mr. Kirkpatrick. I apologize for my rudeness of my people. But I bet you know how it feels to be so frustrated, Chris. I can call you chris, right?

And Chris would look at him through slitted eyes and groan Fuck you.

Getting enough of that already, thank you very much, JC would reply primly, and swing around a chair. He'd help chris up to the chair, and slip out of his uniform jacket. He'd undo his shirt buttons, the ones around his neck and wrists, and run his hands through his hair.I don't quite think you understand the situation, here, Chris.

I understand the sitation, here. Just like every other interrogation. You let the little bottom feeders beat me up, and then we let me sit here while a senior officer tries to wow me. No out of the box thinking. Chris begins.

JC whips out one of his daggers, rolls it around in his hand, and stabs Chris' thigh with it, right near the knee cap, cutting off the artery in his leg.

Out of the box thinking, riiight, JC smiles as Chris screams out in pain. He jiggles the blade a bit, just so Chris would ease his head back and scream louder than the first time.

You're crazy Chris would groan.


And JC would grin and slide the blade out, and place the tip on his pointed tongue coyly. You're gonna have to get that amputated.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Oh wow!

I love you!

So so much.