A Battle of Minds.

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Two weeks. For nearly two weeks Arnold Wesker had been a captive of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Two weeks of isolation, envy, idleness, and detainment. Two weeks without Scarface, at least the physical representation. The voices were still there, oh the voices would always be around...

During those two weeks the FBI had managed to catch other criminals who had worked for the other Gotham City rogues as henchmen or bodyguards. There had been no prize bigger than the Ventriloquist. He was the biggest catch that was still detained. And how did they treat their prized bird? By providing him with the same gruel for breakfast that they served the others. By making him wear the same criminal orange jumpsuit. Where was the fine cuisine for the criminal mastermind?! Where was the white and blue stripped uniform that distinguished the Ventriloquist above the others?! The FBI had some nerve.

Sitting Indian style inside the white wall cell door, the Ventriloquist rocked his upper body back and forth. The white cell room had a steel door that was at least 9 inches thick and reinforced by electronic locks. There was a horizontal slit window near the top of the door, and this slit was reinforced by a sliding window that could only be opened from the outside.

Wearing a reinforced restraining jacket which made it so that his arms perpetually rested against the side of his chest, Wesker began to chime this famous nursery rhyme.

Ring around the rosy
A pocketful of posies
"Ashes, Ashes"
We all fall down!

His voice was high in pitch, but low in voice volume, making it so that the singing was barely above a whisper. Nonetheless, the two “Men in Black” guards on the outside were able to hear it. One of the agents who happened to be female let out a groan.

“Not again. He has been singing on and off for the past three hours..”

They knew patience was the key. Since the incident with Ghast, the criminal had been withdrawn and isolated. He had not made a coherent statement in over four days. Being a man of morals and integrity, Special Agent Tiff did not believe in physical torture as a form of interrogation unless it was a last resort. It was considered in humane. So the question was…how do they make the Ventriloquist rat out information on the other rogues without physically harming him?

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"Are you sure about this?" Agent Stevens asks as they walk through the isolation bloc of the holding facility.

"Yeah," Phoebe replies quietly, tired of being asked.

She'd heard from another agent's thoughts that the man she'd caught wasn't being very helpful and had surprised her guardian the day before by asking if she could try talking to him. At first Agent Stevens had been surprised and even a little suspicious, especially when Phoebe was partway evasive about explaining why she was asking, though she was convinced when Phoebe finally said that she thought it might help her feel better. Why that's the case is something that Agent Stevens can only speculate about since Phoebe has been so close-lipped about what's been on her mind, but she quickly agreed to pass the idea along to her superiors. Because one thing's for certain: the risk to Phoebe is microscopic and even if she fails they'll likely learn something in the process. Today all the appropriate paperwork has been filled out and verified, so now they're being escorted to the man's cell by one of the officials running the place.

Phoebe can easily tell that Agent Stevens is nervous. "Do you want me in there with you?" the woman asks, glancing at the doors they pass.

At least that's a question Phoebe hasn't been asked before. "No," she decides, "I won't need you in there." If she'd been any other 10 year old the idea of letting her go in alone would be ludicrous, but such are the girl's abilities that she wouldn't need physical protection. And though she also relies on Agent Stevens for emotional support and her adult-level wisdom, her telepathy makes the level of separation afforded by the concrete walls immaterial. Besides, Phoebe remembers how anxious the man was after she broke his doll and figures that having Agent Stevens also present would make him that much worse.

When they reach the door of the cell, the official with them hands over a document to one of the agents guarding the door. "Orders to allow Force to question Arnold Wesker," the man summarizes as the guard browses the documents. Phoebe finds herself becoming impatient. If it weren't for the fact that she is quite obviously a child, simply being escorted here would probably be enough for the guards. Or if she was obviously exceptional in appearance like Ghast then she might even get away with simply saying that she was sent here. But no, now the guard is looking from the orders to herself and back again as if certain they can't be right.

Clearing his throat as if to wave off his surprise, the guard says, "Okay." He hands the paperwork back and turns to unlock the door of the cell. Meanwhile, Phoebe reaches out with her mind to the cell's occupant, just to be ready for anything. The man's supposed to be crazy and she saw how violent he is, so as far as she knows he could attempt to attack her on sight and it would be extremely unprofessional for her to be caught unprepared for that.

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Stopping the rocking motion, the Ventriloquist looked up toward the door as it opened. Out stepped a little girl from behind the door. A crooked grin came across the face of the 43 year old man making it possible for Force to see the upper canine portion of his teeth. The Ventriloquist forgot about his surroundings. He no longer remembered that he was a captive in a heavy FBI detainment center. He forgot that Scarface was no longer here to pull his strings. He forgot that he was contained in a straight jacket which hindered any movement of his upper limbs. All he saw was a little girl. All he saw was a lonely little girl. All he saw was his prey.


The situation all of a sudden manifested itself, the Ventriloquist imagined himself in a stray ally way, where a little girl had managed to wonder into. It had been a long time since he had channeled the torment he has experienced in the past few months toward something he could take advantage of.
The Ventriloquist began to whisper the beginnings of a new nursery rhyme.


“Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Momma’s going to buy you a mocking bird. Hee!”


With that the Ventriloquist sprung from his sitting position and charged towards Force. Because his arms were strapped across his chest, the Ventriloquist’s intent was to barrel into her using his left shoulder, knocking the wind out of her and hopefully ending the fight before it began.

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Even if she hadn't been reading the man's thoughts, it would have been easy enough for Force to tell that he was going to attack just based on that look he gives her. Her own expression is remarkably passive as she watches him, a hint of disgust on her face. She doesn't like the man's twisted thoughts, she really doesn't. Why did she volunteer to do this again?

Even as the man springs to his feet she expertly shapes her invisible power, 'catching' his charge around his shoulders. Not wanting to hurt him, she doesn't make it solid; instead it would feel like running into a thickly padded wall. But, like a padded wall, once his forward momentum is stopped there is no give in the unseen barrier holding him away from his intended prey.

And a moment later, it pushes him back as she carefully gives him what is, to her at least, a gentle push meant to send him backward to land right back on the bed. While the cell isn't big enough to allow her to be as far away from him as she'd like him to be, she'd like to have as much space as the room allows.

"I'm Force," she introduces herself quietly, just in case he doesn't make the connection. Because the little girl before him is one and the same as the disembodied voice of the young woman who called herself Force that he met two weeks ago - the one who destroyed his cyborg, protected the man who rescued the agent he shot, and ripped the door off the semi he was hiding in before peeling it open like a tin can. Oh yeah, and she broke his doll too.

She watches him carefully and is even more diligent about monitoring his thoughts. It's unlikely that she looks at all like what he was expecting - when she speaks mentally with such calm and authority she sounds more like someone who is at least a teenager. But in reality she's still a few growth spurts away from looking like anything but a child, though her real voice is noticeably similar to her mental one - it just sounds a bit different heard aloud and coming out of such an obviously young mouth.

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Before the Ventriloquist can make it to the little girl his body is met by a barrier of telekinetic resistance, preventing his body from impacting with the intended target. The barrier pushes back, causing the villain to stumble backwards on the balls of his heels until he trips over the bedframe and lands onto the mattress.

“If that mocking bird don’t sing, Mamma’s going to buy you a diamond ring..”

Lost in his insanity, the Ventriloquist smiles back at the girl, happy that she was showing some fight. Then all of a sudden he heard the voice in his head.

“I’m Force.”

Arnold Wesker began to look around the room. The girls lips had not moved, so It had to be somewhere. Anywhere! There were no shadows. Nothing under the bed, he had checked multiple times before. Then where?! It was a familiar voice. The same voice from the city outskirts!!! Yes. The same voice that had ripped open the freighter. The same voice that had destroyed Scarface.

“Y---Y---you. Y---you’re the voice from before!” Wesker said rolled off the bed,

The Ventriloquist’s back was hunched over. His mouth was protruding drool. His appearance was greatly disheveled and his body smelled musty; all the results of refusing any assistance with hygiene over the past two weeks. There was dry skin flakes hanging from parts of his face and his teeth had turned a tainted yellow.

“Wh—why did you kill Mister Scarface?! Why?! He never did anything to you?! Wh-----yyyyy!?!?!?!!” He asked with a high pitched shout.

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Phoebe finds herself pondering the issue of whether or not there's anything about this guy that she doesn't find gross. Ugh! She doesn't stop him from getting back off the bed again, but she's fully prepared to knock him back again if he tries anything. Because she certainly wouldn't put it past him. On the other hand, Agent Stevens told her to try to be somewhat patient with the man because he's crazy.

However, the patience of someone her age has some very real limits, and they're easily crossed when he shouts at her. "Mister Scarface told you to kill everyone and you listened to him, that's why!" she screeches back, easily exceeding him in pitch, volume, and abrasiveness - it probably would be more pleasant to listen to nails on a chalkboard. Little girls are simply much better at this sort of thing than old, stinky men.

Her point made, she folds her arms and glares at him as if she believes him to be the most despicable person on the planet. Which isn't far off, actually - she's sure that there's probably worse out there, but she hasn't met them.

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With the inability to cover his ears, Arnold Wesker’s head jerks to the left and right as if he was trying to get water out of his ear.
When she finished her statement the Ventriloquist stepped back until his back hit rear wall of the cell.

“No! No! You don’t understand!” Wesker began to reply, “They were all picking me and Mister Scarface was just trying to help me stand up for myself!!”

The Ventriloquist buried his head with over exaggerated ‘Boo-Hooos..’

“Mister Scarface is the only one who has stood up for me. He’s the only one who’s cared…”

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With no change to her expression, Phoebe's voice lowers to a more socially acceptable volume when she speaks again. "No, he doesn't - I heard him. He never stops talking about how stupid you are. And we weren't 'picking on you', we were trying to stop you before you killed someone. And trying to kill people isn't sticking up for yourself, it's murder," she replies impatiently. Trust a child to be able to simplify things and tell it like it is.

If she'd only just met the guy she might be more inclined to be sympathetic to his distress, but this guy could have easily hurt Agent Stevens. Not only that, but she's completely certain that he would have if he'd had the chance. She's not going to be forgetting that in a hurry.

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“No. No. You don’t understand….” A solemn Arnold Wesker said, with a lowered head. “You don’t know what it’s like to be hated by everyone you’ve ever known. Mister Scarface and I are alike in so many ways. Both of us were outcasts. Both of us were mistreated…”

Wesker appeared to be reflecting on his situation. Her name was Force. So he was able to humanize and identify her in some form.

“Murder?” Ventriloquist asked after a pause. Looking into the eyes of Force for the first time. His eyes were brown in color, filled with a lust for blood and destruction like a burning forest fire that was angry at the nearby inhabitants. “No. It wasn’t murder. They had to be killed. They never reached out to help us! They never went out of their way to understand. If they were good people they would have reached out to help us! Why do they neglect us? And to us, that is the same thing as emotional harm, Heeee.”

It resumed..

"If that diamond ring turns brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glassIf that looking glass gets broke

Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat"

[Deleted]

"So?" Phoebe asks, "You don't know what it's like for everyone to think that you're a weapon." The man hardly has a claim for sympathy in her eyes. His life has been terrible? Well, so has a lot of hers.

"Just because bad stuff happens doesn't mean it's okay to kill people," she insists with the evident dislike on her face only getting worse, "And they are good people. They just don't have any reason to be nice to you when you sit here singing baby songs instead of answering their questions." Really, the man may be in a very unpleasant situation, but he's bringing it upon himself. If he'd cooperate they'd give him a better cell. And the only reason why they're keeping him here in the first place is that he's obviously a bad guy.

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A murderer. That is what she had called him. Arnold Wesker took a moment to think that through. Was he a murderer or a killer? A killer was someone who only took lives when needed too, and had some form of code or ethnics to their profession. For example the hired assassin who would not mind killing a crime boss, but would abstain from harming an innocent child. A murderer on the other hand.....

"You...see. Heee."

The Ventriloquist stopped chiming the nursery rhyme, a sadistic smile was placed on his lips.

"There are no good people little girl. When you grow older you will realize that. Now, I will co-operate with you and your associates on one condition....you untie me and bring me Mister Scarface."

The Ventriloquist stopped a brief moment, dropping to floor like a log rolling back and forth down a hill.

Heeee. I don't know anything...HONEST! Heee. Mister Scarface has all of the answers...its he you need to speak to.""

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Though Phoebe is easily able to follow the man's thoughts as he distinguished for himself between murderers and killers, she's not about to pay any attention to the difference. She's not about to believe that there's such a thing as lives that 'need' to end. Well, except for people who are killed through the process of capital punishment, but the government is in charge of regulating that and therefore it must be okay. They only kill the really bad guys - people like this guy, if he wasn't so crazy.

"You're wrong," she replies solidly, completely undaunted by the fact that an adult is trying to pass along the greater wisdom he supposedly has, "There are good people. I hear people's thoughts - I know who has good thoughts. You're not one of them, though." That last part is said accusingly, as if that fact makes him some sort of subhuman filth in her mind. Which is actually not that far from the truth.

But then she goes silent and appears to be in thought, though she's actually speaking telepathically to someone else. But given the speed of thought, it only takes a moment before she says, "Agent Stevens says that they'll take off the straitjacket if you calm down and behave yourself. But you can't have Mr. Scarface because he makes you more dangerous." And, quick to add her own take on that situation, she adds, "He's just a stupid doll anyway." On one hand she can mildly sympathize - she really likes her dolls. But not that much.

[Deleted]

Scarface entered into the thoughts of the villain as they began a private conversation within the mind of Arnold Wesker.

Scarface: "Stupid doll! Dat girl has some nu-r-veee G'esisdes! Who do da FGI 'Tink dey are sendin' a little gwurl to talk to us..!"

Ventriloquist: "Yes. Yes Mister Scarface," It is always good to agree with Scarface and let him vent.." You're right. But now is not the time, we should listen to what the girl is offering to us.."

Scarface: "Hey! Who does de thinking 'round here?!?!"

Ventriloquist: "You do Mister Scarface. But not every insult deserves a response."

Scarface: "Yes. Ah' agree, g'ut dis girl does. We'll play for now dummy, g'ut we add her to da list."

Ventriloquist: "Of course Mister Scarface. She has officially been added."

Still laying on the floor. The Ventriloquist rolled back and forth like a log or someone who was trapped inside a rolled up carpet trying to escape. When the conversation is over, the sociopath begins to giggle before responding to Phoebe.

"Deal! We'll stay calm and compliant. Just let US out of this jacket! Heee."

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Frowning slightly, Phoebe blinks in surprise as she comments, "He's in your head again. That's weird. You're crazy." Well, if they can't keep Scarface out of the picture by depriving him of his doll, that's someone else's problem to deal with, not hers. Though she has to ask, "And what list am I on now?" Unfortunately, the only real way to keep a thought around Phoebe private is to not think it around her. Which can be very tricky, actually, but that's exactly why they're allowing her to do this job.

Watching the man on the floor, she next comments, "And I don't think that counts as calmed down. Use your indoor voice."

[Deleted]

The Ventriloquist looked up at Phoebe with a half smile. "So. You can hear him too? Heee." Still captive to the straight jacket, the Ventriloquist continues to lay on the floor, resting on his side and facing the little girl.

"Oh. The list? Well that is something for us to know and for you to possibly find out eventually. But not now. Not now. You don't need to worry. We'll protect you from Mister Scarface."

The comment about using the indoor voice annoyed him. It was as if she was talking down to him or a teacher reminding a first grade child to be well mannered and behaved. But the Ventriloquist would try and listen. Would try and listen for now.

"Hee. I apologize. We're trying our best. Yes we are. But I am afraid that we haven't had our medications for this evening."

The Ventriloquist smiled. During the past two weeks it had been difficult to force feed the Ventriloquist his psychiatric medications. Most day the lunatic flat out refused. He would play a game with her.

"It has been hard for us to take our medications at night and during the day because of this infernal straight jacket. If only we could get this confounded thing off...It would be a lot easier to comply with the FBI."