La liberté par la brutalité - Printable Version

La liberté par la brutalité
Peace through brutality

» Bon, mademoiselle, I would like to know ... really just- The young male was interrupted by the loud clicking sound of the woman's lighter that he faced. A short pause of conversation occurred as the woman gallantly pulled from her long cigarette. It seemed as if she enjoyed this particular one more than any other as she closed her eyes the moment she released the smoke through her nose and mouth.

» You wish to know ... why, non? She asked calmly, her tone almost reaching an intimidating level. She focused her eyes on his, whose seemed to try looking at something else in the room, if only there was something.

» Euh ... oui, obviously. The man chuckled slightly nervous. » After all, mademoiselle, there were children on board, women and children. He attempted to bring the conversation back to a balanced standpoint. He adjusted his glasses and leaned a bit more forward, trying to seem more direct.

» Oui, I'm aware. The woman said without any slight bit of regret in her voice. She took another pull from her cigarette, blowing the smoke right into the man's face, causing hers to be hidden behind it.

» Then why couldn't you hold back your fire? You were aware and yet you destroyed the transport and killed them all. The man became more expressive, as he spoke, it seemed as if the brutality of the woman's act came to light just yet, as his voice became more and more desperate. » It was a massacre ... He whispered.

» What did you expect, chatte? Me, letting any of these royalists survive? Je ne pense pas. She didn't bother to sound mystical now, she outright spoke with a loud and secure tone, she was certainly aware of her actions and had no problem showing how much.

» Euh ... oui, of course ... mais ... not every citizen of Gallia is a royalist, mademoiselle, these people were innocent. His secure tone disappeared again and he want back to sounding shy.

» We have a narrow list of people who are not, if you are not on it, you are a royalist, the enemy, it is that simple. Is that enough for your interview? The woman's voice became bored and condescending, she didn't bother too look at him anymore and merely pulled of her cigarette again, admiring the grey walls instead of him.

» I actually wanted to ask a few more questions, if you don't mind. He was scrolling through a list of questions he had on his PDA, obviously trying to find one that would keep the woman interested.

» Then I have to end it here. She said and stood up. The door behind the man unlocked loudly and a large man entered the room with a grim look on his face. The young interviewer turned around and looked up right into the dead and cold face of the, to this point, unknown man. The lady made a hand gesture towards the younger man and nodded. The large one took out a knife and instantly cut the throat of the interviewing man, ripping half of his head off so it would hang back, revealing the insides of his throat and a fountain of blood.

» Merci beaucoup. The woman said surprisingly nice and gave the executioner a friendly smile before putting her cigarette onto the opened, blood streaming throat of the now dead interviewer.

» Give the prisoners no more food and put the corpse in the cells as soon as it is out of blood. She said and left the room without further ado.