For me to know, for you to find out!

D.C.

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Am I the villain?

Who's the villain now?


Then they tore the black sack off her head and the blazing light from the one and only lamp on the centre of the ceiling blinded her, hurt her. She closed her eyes for a moment, blinked awhile, and slowly her eyes began to adjust to the lighting. She had no idea where the heck they had taken her, but what she did know was that all this was totally unfair and, in a way, not exactly humane. Okay, fine, she'd been breaking the law a little bit, but that surely didn't give those bastards the right to treat her so bad, did it?

Her hands were tied to the back of the chair, and it hurt her shoulders. She could sit like that for a while, but she had been sitting like this for over an hour now and she simply couldn't take it anymore. She winced, and the two soldiers inside the room saw it, but they didn't seem to give a damn.

"Where have you taken me?" Shannon hissed. "Where? And what is this? You gonna torture me or something? Just because I wouldn't talk straight away? I got rights, you know!" She spat, right in front of the boots of the soldier closest to her. "If you assholes think this is going to make me respect you more, then you're horribly wrong, jackass! Gosh, it only makes me hate you Hutt freaks even more!"

They had taken her guns, they had taken her coat, they had taken her knives and hell, they had even taken her hat! And now the pretty Morellian lady sat there on that wooden chair, in the middle of an intensely lit, empty room and by the looks of it no way to break free. She was angry and felt like crap, and had no idea what these people wanted from her. And so she sat there, with her messed up, long, red hair; her white, sleeveless shirt; her belt with empty holsters; her jeans and her black boots and her black gloves.

And yet there was a bright spot, and it wasn't the lamp.

It was the lock-pick hidden inside her right glove.

Those Hutts had no idea...
 

Wit

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They say bomb disposal squad members have some of the steadiest hands in the Galaxy, after all a single mistake could cost them their lives. Adrian understood at that moment what those people meant, as he carefully lowered his hands, delicately bringing the the thin strip down. Sweat was running down his brow, this was the culmination of nearly an half hour's worth of work, and this was the decisive moment, when one mistake could destroy everything. Just as he was about to put down the strip down the door behind him opened with a bang and a gruff old Duro walked in shouting. "Sir, the prisoner is ready for you."

The sudden intrusion broke Adrian's concentration and the explosion he had been dreading dropped him to the floor. Surrounded by meats, vegetables and pickles, he turned around to glare at the Duro who had disturbed him. "Do you have any idea how long I was working on that? You ruined my masterpiece." He shook his head in frustration and got to his feet, flicking the pieces that had once been part of the huge sandwich he was making out of his hair and off his clothes. "Get in here and clean this up, wasted a perfectly nice sandwich, should be ashamed of yourself." Still shaking his head he walked to the refrigerator standing at the other corner of the room. Extracting a meat pie from within, he started walking out of the room. The Duro, whose pie it was, tried to open his mouth to protest, but a glare was all it took to shut him up. You spoiled my meal, I take yours. It was plain and simple.

When he finally walked into the interrogation room, he was done with the pie, feeling quiet full, that was until he saw the plate of doughnuts sitting on a table. Some of the interrogators used it as part of their method, well it was about time he tried it out as well. Picking up the plate he walked into the room and sat down opposite the young woman. Putting the plate of donuts on the table he began sliding it towards her before realizing that her hands were tied. Chuckling briefly at his own absent mindedness, he picked up a doughnut and started munching on it as he looked the prisoner up and down, measuring her up.

"So, Miss...Um, what was your name again?"
 

D.C.

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Some guy entered the room and basically the first thing he did was munching on the fricking donuts. Frankly, Shannon hadn't even noticed those donuts until the guy started chewing on them. The way he chewed, moving his lower jaw like he did, made him look like a cow. Shannon had worked on a farm many years ago as a cowgirl, she had seen how cows chewed, so she could definitely compare.

She frowned when he asked her that question and she did not answer at first. She just fixed her incredibly bright blue eyes--so bright that they almost seemed to glow--on the man, giving him an ice-cold killer stare. Initially she'd planned not to say anything, just be silent and be mysterious about it all, acting as though none of this mattered to her, but then her anger and frustration won and she let it all out.

"Seriously? Your crooks knock out a lady who's travelling all by her lonesome, then drag her off to some weird place, and then you come in and have the nerve to confess you forgot my name? Do you really have no clue who I am, or did it really slip your mind? If it's the former: why the kriff did you drag a random stranger off for questioning? If it's the latter: why the heck did you take me here if you're indifferent about this whole thing? Does it suggest you guys are just freaking psychopaths who simply wanna capture young ladies just so's ya can torture em? Huh? Or is this your awkward way of asking me out?"

She shot an angry glance around the room, looking at each of the three men for a while. Finally she looked back at the guy who just came in, still munching on that donut. Her face was all rage; her eyes true anger.

"And tell ya what, you kriffer! I hate donuts! So now for the real question: who the hell are you and where the hell are we!?"
 

Wit

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Adrian had seen more than his share of tough guys in his life, some of whom had been more than intent on killing him. So when the woman initially responded to his question with a cold stare he was not really as fazed by it as she might have expected him to be. He simply smiled at her in between taking bites off his doughnut and waited for her to reply, something that maybe only further infuriated her and helped bring about the explosion that soon followed.

"Ha!" he barked out as he heard what she had to say, forcing down the last of the doughnut and letting out a short laugh. "With the way you were armed and the contraband you were carrying?" Another short laugh burst out from his mouth, his eyes twinkling humorously. "A lady indeed."

Adrian gestured to one of the guards present in the room who immediately stepped up to him and placed a file in front of him. Sitting up in his seat, he opened up the file and started glancing through its contents. "But say if I were asking you out," he began speaking as he read the file, "would you say yes to a freaking psychopath with a penchant for knocking out ladies travelling all by their lonesome?" As he looked up from the file his eyes were twinkling once more, as he tried to defuse the situation by injecting some humor into the interrogation. But noticing the woman's expression he would realize that maybe that was not the best route to take.

Letting out a sigh he closed the file and leaned back in his chair. "Shannon O'Hara, that is your name, isn't it? See, we do know who you are, and I guess you already know why you are here. As for who I am, I am with the planetary authorities. You can call me Adrian. And yes, we're still on Nar Kreeta, but beyond that is not for me to say and for you to find out." He smiled broadly at her once more, picking up another doughnut from the plate. "And whoever said the doughnuts were for you?"
 

D.C.

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She pressed her lips and gave him that shut-the-hell-up-or-I'm-gonna-kill-you glare. For some reason, the one lock hanging in front of her left eye made her look more menacing, or at least the guard she'd spat at seemed to think so because he seemed to be really uncomfortable at the moment. He kept on shifting from his one foot to the other and couldn't look at her for more than a few seconds. Shannon could also smell how he sweated, and she wasn't exactly grateful for that. But what do ya know? It could very well have been part of the torture.

"Guess what, Adrian," she said, "if you wanna get me to talk then why don't ya ask me your goddamn questions instead of just trying to make a fool out of me all the bloody time! You like yer own kind of humour, eh? Think you're just really kriffing funny! You and your donuts!"

The door was right behind Adrian, it was the only way out of this room. Besides Adrian--as stated before--there were two guards in here. She hadn't seen Adrian's weapons (if he carried any), but she knew that both guards each carried blaster pistols in their holsters dangling from their belts. Shannon was good with firearms. Any firearms. She was a gunslinger.

She pressed her index and middle finger of her right hand to the palm of her hand, and felt the lockpick inside her glove. Adrian would never be able to see this, since he and she were facing one another and she did this behind her back. The guards couldn't see it, either. But she didn't take out the lockpick yet. It wasn't the right time. She had to wait.

The perfect opportunity would present itself in due time.

Patience was key, even when you were utterly pissed off.
 
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