Olivia Duma

Several years ago ...

The motors powering the giant iron door whirls to life, pulling the door across its well worn track. The guard at the security booth waves me into the dungeon and I stride inside without any further ado. Behind me is the sound of the heavy security door slamming shut, locking me inside with the rest of the Garden's prisoners and their assigned wardens. Interview rooms with padded walls line each side of the wall and I step inside the room allocated to me, eager to get away from the ever present odor of stale sweat that permeates the air.

The dungeon had been built underneath the Garden itself and that influenced how it had been organized. Rather than different wings, the dungeon was separated into layers, each with a different security level. I was currently in the top most layer, used to house low threat prisoners and subjects that were largely cooperative. Almost everyone here is a Valkyrie that had been arrested over a relatively vanilla offence. Going AWOL. Distributing unsanctioned literature. Or like today's interviewee, brawling with other Valkyries while drunk.

The Citadel stands strong because of the Leader, and most importantly, belief in the Divines. It is that unshakable, infallible faith that allows us to resist the incoming tide. Without it, this bastion humanity would have been swept away by the Fallen a long time ago. When faith has been properly cultivated, it blooms, just like a rose, possessing beauty and the thorns needed to defend itself from despoilment.

But thorns don't protect a rose from choking weeds. Dissent. Doubt. These are the things that erode our faith in the Leader and the Divines. It weakens our prayers, the only means we have to recharge the bulwarks and power the Citadel's defenses. So that's where we Roses come into the picture. The Yellow Roses prune and cultivate, keeping the Citadel neat and tidy, allowing everyone to flourish. The Red Roses pull out the particularly stubborn weeds by the root.

A garden can only flourish when it is organized. Everything kept in its proper place. That means stamping out indiscipline and anyone who questions the Leader. Doubt is a seed that will invariably grow if left unattended. A life of compelled virtue is far more preferable than falling into error. Especially when the consequences of such error is dragging not just yourself down, but everyone else as well.

Tapping my foot in impatience, I peek out of the interview room down the corridor, where the cells are located. Each cell is really just a tough metal cage, bolted into the floor and used to fence in several prisoners, all shackled to each other. There are no chairs, tables or even bunks located within any of the cells. The prisoners loll about on the bare floor, trying to get comfortable in the clothes they had been arrested in.

All part of the interrogation process. Contrary to popular belief, Yellow Roses hardly ever coerce most of our detainees. Most of the prisoners are smart enough to sign the confession we prepare for them, eat the punishment and go on with their lives. Its the fastest and easiest way out for them. But we still need a way to educate the prisoners on the reality of the situation without being too harsh. And that was how the current interrogation procedure was born. Prisoners would be brought in and tossed into a cell after all their valuables had been confiscated. And that's it.

Most of them think they can tough it out, not realizing what's actually going on. Because when I say that's it, I mean that's it. Prisoners are not allowed to bathe. They are not allowed to talk to each other. If any prisoner wanted to use the bathroom, they would be escorted there by the guards, with their cell mates tagging along for the show since everyone had been chained together. They would sleep on the concrete floor without any mattress or pillow. Food was doled out to the prisoners in the cells, there would be no trips to the canteen.

In short, the only stimulation our detainees would receive would be during the interrogations themselves. The utter boredom and stifling unpleasantness of detention would be more than enough to encourage a low security detainee to talk. And the promise of quickly getting processed is a strong enough incentive for most of them to agree to signing the boiler plate confession.

I see the wardens leading a dark haired Valkyrie out of one of the cells, having finally separated her from the rest of the chain gang. Humming in satisfaction to myself, I go back inside the interview room and check the confession that had been prepared for Nock to sign. Once I get an acknowledgement of guilt on her part, I can worry about deciding her punishment later. I had drafted the confession so that Nock would be admitting to her guilt out of her immense loyalty to the Citadel and the Leader, neatly getting around the problem I had with her political reliability score.

Nothing is more noble than a Valkyrie falling on her own sword after all.

The wardens march Nock into the room and handcuff her to the chair in front of me. With a curt nod, I dismiss the wardens and the room's door clicks shut behind them.

"Sara Nock?" I ask kindly, making a show of checking my papers, "Please confirm your identity for the record before we begin this session."

Nock looks up, the huge shiner on one of her eyes making the woman look like the caricature of a panda. When the brawl was going on, her opponent wasn't holding back. That kind of blunt trauma would have been stopped by Nock's bulwark otherwise. I'm going to need to haul in the other pilot as well once Nock identifies her.

"Depends on who you're asking." Nock replies testily, licking her lips. Great, she's a difficult one. Should have let her stew in the dungeon for a few more days before starting the interrogation.

Nock hunches forward, her stolid bulk making her look like a lumpy hill in that metal chair. Nock's not an attractive woman. At her best she would probably be rated a solid below average, I think somewhat smugly to myself while adjusting my long hair. Nock grimaces unhappily and I note the dull gleam of jealously in her eyes. Its a petty competition, but it feels good to win it anyway.

"I'm asking you Sara." I ask in a light voice, not in the least put out by Nock's sour expression, "There's no one else in this room right now, is there?"

A gruff snort from Nock, causing her thick neck to quiver.

"I'm a Sara Nock. Don't know if that's who you're looking for."

"A Sara Nock?" I frown, slightly confused at this statement. Nock's still being difficult, but I'm making progress at least.

"Yes, yes." Nock mutters irritably, "Sara Nock is my name. But am I really Sara Nock?"

"Are you the Sara Nock that thrashed a night club?" I sigh, feeling a headache coming on.

"Now you're asking the right question." Nock's face cracks into a grin, "Answer is yes. I was the one that wrecked that dump."

"Alright. So you are confirming your identity then?" I press, glancing at the copy of Nock's ID I have on file.

"Huh? Huh?" Nock suddenly shouts, "I can't hear you."

"Stop pretending." I snap, "You could hear me perfectly fine just now."

"HUH?" Nock shouts even louder, her face as red as a beetroot. Why is she getting so worked up about a formality?

I raise the ID right up to Nock's face and demand, "Is this person you or not?"

"Yes." Nock settles down immediately and gives a plain answer.

"Good. That settles one thing at least." I grumble while writing in my investigation diary.

"But like I said just now, is that who I am?" Nock quips, her face twisted in a nasty snarl.

"Yes it is." I answer flatly, not keen on encouraging Nock's garbage, "It was the name your mother gave you."

"Of course." Nock bites out but otherwise keeps silent.

"You admit to damaging Loveless in a fight?" I give Nock a hard look and but she stares back at me fearlessly.

"I already said so." Nock huffs, "I did it. So there."

A knot of tension releases deep within my gut. Nock's cooperating where it counts at least. With this admission I can quickly close the file and with no muss or fuss.

"There was another Valkyrie you were fighting with that night?" I ask, moving on to the next stage of the interrogation.

"No idea who that was." Nock glances away, "Things were a mess that night."

"Really?" I fold my arms in challenge, but not really caring about the answer. If Nock really doesn't know, then failing to pursue the other suspect is not my problem. Can't investigate when there's no lead. Nock lowers her head, eyeballing the floor sullenly.

"Why did a fight break out then?" I lean back in my chair while playing with the pen in my hand, "Can you tell me that at least?"

"Stuff." Nock mumbles unhelpfully, "Piotr was going for an assignation when he previously promised that we would hang out."

"Huh. Got it." I nod. There we go. Text book love rival case. Open and shut.

"I don't think you do." Nock suddenly cuts in, "You know what's the worst form of betrayal?"

"No." I say evenly, waiting for my subject to continue.

"Betrayal. Treason. Not just towards the Leader, but also towards each other." Nock blathers on, "That's what we were thought during training right? Never leave someone behind."

"I do recall." I state agreeably, barely managing to stop myself from pointing out that a man whore probably doesn't care about any of that, "So, this Piotr was going on a date without you then?"

"I spent so much on him." Nock's voice suddenly chokes and tears build up in her eyes, "He could have at least, well ..."

"Right." I confirm vaguely, not needing to hear the rest.

"Being replaced like that," Nock mumbles to herself, "its not fair."

"Live and learn." I try my hand at consoling the subject.

"It wasn't meant to happen again." Nock slumps in her seat, "I did everything right."

"Mhm. So I'll send your file for processing immediately once the written confession is signed." I begin wrapping things up, "You have any family that you want me to contact? To help with paying the disciplinary fine or the good behavior bond?"

"No." Nock's answer is flat and final.

I check her file again just for confirmation and prompt, "How about your mother?"

"She's not in the Citadel." Nock dismisses the suggestion immediately.

"Alright then." I shrug before pulling out the confession and pressing the buzzer on the wall to summon the wardens. I need their help to remove Nock's handcuffs so that she can sign the document. And after that we should be done here.

Yet another case closed by ace Yellow Rose Olivia Duma.