Trouble [FBI/open]

[ghast]

Tick. Tick. Tac. Tick. Tac. The noise was repetitious, constant flow between the occasional mis calculation where the sharp blade of the pocket knife hit bone. Playing nerve, Russian knife game or sometimes called Bishop. Warren had his Left hand on the table, the knife held between his pointer an middle finger, careful of the nails protruding from the underside of the digits. moving rapidly in a pattern of back an forth between fingers of his left hand. The table was dotted with knife hole of the same pattern. The others in the office had no choice but to get used to the odd game of self mutilation. It was a bit easier once there was no longer any fear the he would be in any pain from missing. An he did on occasion miss the table an clock his finger. Warren never jerked it back or pulled away like most who played the game would. Then again most played it with a pen or something of a less sharp nature.

He had once talked another into playing against him. The older agent only played one round then quit after catching his trigger Finger twice. Warren remembered just smiling, popping off something about how the man was of lesser fortitude. How if you think about stabbing your finger then you will. Think about the table an you wont. Then again it wasn't a game for every one.

It was often that he thought about the reaction of others watching him play the solitary game to occupy time while waiting on Lyssa for some reason or another. Normally she would scoff, threaten to take the knife for a while if he ever cut off his finger. Tick. Tick. Tac. Tick. Tac. Tick. the rotation of the blade was almost mechanical. Repetitive. the door to the adjoining room open.

Ghast missed the table.

[ventrioquist]

Sitting in the corner of a brightly lit cell, Arnold Wesker, otherwise known as the Ventriloquist had been slowly decompensating in his psychiatric behavior. It had been roughly a week and a half since he had been captured by "Force." During the battle, the telekinetic had managed to destroy Scarface by ripping It from Wesker's hands and then making It explode to pieces.

Since then, the Ventriloquist had never been the same, he was lost without Scarface. At first the Ventriloquist had been in the stage of mourning and depression. He had spent the first few days of his captivity sobbing and sad, very seldom making a sound, and almost refusing to eat on a daily basis.

But within the past forty-eight hours something had happened. A desire for rage and vengence had taken over. In the past, Wesker had never been known as a violent individual. He was in fact timid, and afraid most of the time in captivity. The agents in charge of restraining the Ventriloquist had initially planned to interrogate the villain into providing them with information regarding the other rogues of the city. Since Wesker had been depressed and solem, they were unable to get him to talk.

And because of his passive nature, they had refused to restrain him.

"SCARFACE!!!! I demand to see SCARFACE!!"

Wesker was dressed in a organe jump suit often used to depict prisoners in the jail system. He had gotten himself up from the floor and now began to bang hardly on the iron door which lead to his isolated cell.

"There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse.
And they all lived together in a little crooked house. Heeeeee..."

His banging began to get louder in nature as he kept repeating the nursey rhyme. The guards in the hallway began to shift, when the high pitched voice of the Ventriloquist began to resonate through the walls of the detention hallway.

*********************************************************************

Agent Chin walked through the open door that lead to the room where Ghast was seated. She was a petite Asian Woman with her hair tied up in a neat bun. Chin was dressed in a black business suite, and wearing dark shades. She was a expert in various forms of Martial Arts, looking directly at Ghast, she spoke.

"We need your assistance. It is the Ventriloquist and he is causing a disturbance in the facility," she began, taking a moment to look at the game Ghast was playing with his knife. It gave her the chills. "We were hoping he would move onto a more active phase of his psychosis without Scarface....can you handle him?"

[ghast]

This was not the agent he was expecting to walk through the door. Warren pulled the blade from his hand before folding the knife back into the handle and leaning back in the chair, kicking it onto two legs. Placing it back in his pocket. He wasn't in typical attire for the building which seemed to be nothing but suits. Just a simple t-shirt with Ash from Army of Darkness on it, Black jeans and stained converse low tops. The stains on the shoes were basically blood or dirt. "the puppet guy?" He asked almost rhetorically. "Yeah I can handle him. not like he's super powered or anything" that and there was nothing really for him to worry about. Lyssa would find him sooner or later, it wasn't like he was hard to find.

Warren stood from the table and nodded for the other to lead the way. He wasn't exactly too familiar with the layout of the building quite yet. They all looked the same in their construction but room placement was always different. The man must have been causing quite a scare, Ghast wasn't normally used for helping transport unless the situation called for it. Or maybe they were just low on personnel today.

[ventrioquist]

Mira Chin nodded.

"Right this way."

Chin was a competent agent of the FBI. Someone who knew how to do her job. Someone who knew their role in the system. She followed orders, and worked well as a team member for her particular unit.

Chin led Ghast through a large metallic hallway, in the shape of a circular tunnel. The ceiling arched roughly 12 feet above the flooring. Ghast noticed that even though the tiles they were walking on were created out of some sort of metal, their foot steps did not make a sound.

Chin reached the end of the hallway, and placed her hand on the palm scanner. After verifying her prints, a green light chimed and the door opened into the holding cell. The holding cell was a long hallway with four large rooms on both the right and left side. At the present moment, 7 out of 8 of the cells were empty. The FBI was hoping to place rogues with a reputation in here, but so far the only one in custody had been the Ventriloquist.

Upon entering the detention hallway, Ghast and Chin were greeted by the sound of a high pitched voice chiming another nursery rhyme...


"Cobbler, cobbler, mend my shoe.
Get it done by half past two.
Half past two is much too late!
Get it done by half past eight."

Chin walked to the second cell on the left, making it near the middle of the room.

This was not your typical jail cell, meaning there were no 'bars' guarding the prisnor. There was merely a a metal door made of an unknown element. The door had no window or slit for the guards to look inside of the cell, but there was a green virtual reality monitor beside the door which was able to broadcast images of what was occuring inside.

Once again there was a loud banging on the metal door.

"Mr. Scarface.....Oh.....you better produce Mr. Scarface soon. Otherwise, there will be consequences to face!"

On the monitor, the guards, Chin, and Ghast could see the Ventriloquist slamming the metal door with the bottom of a closed fist.

Chin motioned for Ghast to enter, and pointed to a red virtual reality button that would open the jail cell for Ghast to enter.

"You're up."

[ghast]

For the most part while he was following the other agent Warren resisted the urge to rake the nails that had now fused into the bone of his fingers across the metal of the walls. For him the scratching, screeching noise of metal on metal was pleasant to him. As where most cringed, Had Lyssa been with them he would have just to annoy her.

Part of him wondered just how much money was dished into this that could have been placed elsewhere in a more needed environment. Criminals didn't need to be interrogated, they didn't need to live if they were already under the watch of the government. What happened to the kill on sight orders? Those were so effective, but only really used outside of the states.

The Palm scanner was also just a glorified key, also unneeded along side the video feed. Really had this been needed? what happened to ballistics glass and bars?

Warren rolled his dead eyes at the notion of such tech being used. "geeze he sounds like a cat in a blender. " He commented upon hearing the noises that were supposed to be human vocalizations, but it really did sound like a dying cat's high pitched mewls. He leaned his neck from side to side cracking the bones before he pressed the button on the screen fearlessly. The door slid open as Warren entered the cell with the un intimidating looking man. "I got ya Scarface right here"

[ventrioquist]

Wesker just stopped short of banging the cell door when it opened to reveal Ghast.

Behind the pair of heavy wired frame glasses, his eyes widened at the physical appereance of the man or thing standing before him.

Arnold stumbled back a few steps before falling onto the ground. A combination of trying to backpeddle due to surprise and wanting to get away from Ghast.

"Yo---Yo--You're not Scarface..."

Wesker stumbled with his words which was always sign of a particular habit or feeling he would get on occassion. Mustering some courage..

"I want Mr. Scarface. And I will not co-operate with anything the FBI wants me to do until otherwise."

[ghast]

Warren had a different idea. "you see this can go two ways, either you come easily Or I take this" He lifted his right hand showing the maw of four rusted nails driven through his fingers below his nails just after the joints. His pale glassy eyes narrowed in malicious delight of the chance to potentially maul something. "and I make you the new Scarface. Your Choice Four eyes. I would rather it go the hard way. I do tend to enjoy it, Shame I just can't kill you and be done with it." He took a step forward, In fact if the man did want to change his mind and continue to belligerent. Ghast would surely love to correct him of the habit.

[Deleted]

There is a quick thought in the mind of the Ventriloquist.

The being standing in front of him would back up his words and not hesitate to kill him. There was no doubt about it.

And at that moment, the Ventriloquist was thankful for the protocols and rules placed by the FBI and the US justice system that would prevent Ghast from attacking him.

"Li--Listen. We don't want any trouble. W---We just want to see the boss again."

[ghast]

"The Doll went through a wood-chipper" Ghast spoke in gleeful sadism, stepping closer, "So your not going to see the thing, Got it? Now your choice, Come quietly or I take you by force, and it will hurt you a lot more then it does me"

[Deleted]

Who was this upstart? Being so disrespectful of of one of the Gotham Rogues. If you were to ask the Ventriloquist in a heart to heart conversation, they would be forced to admit that they would not be on the top of the totem poll in terms of being a Gotham Rogue, but They were still one nonetheless.

Despite this fact, the thought of fighting this man did not even cross the mind of the Ventriloquist. Not even once. The sheer appearance of Ghast was enough to frighten the criminal.

"Heee. We'll remain here quietly." The Ventriloquist said this relatively calmly and took a seat at the edge of Their bed. Folding Their hands neatly in Their lap, the Ventriloquist began to stare at the blank wall, trying to avoid making eye contact with Ghast.

[ghast]

Ghast looked slightly disappointed as he turned to leave the cell. It had been some time since he had actually accomplished anything, Let alone been allowed to hit something, he stood there for a moment to see if the man was sure of his choice. It seemed like it much to his disappointment. "waste of my time" he said as he left the cell.

Merely glancing at the other agent as he walked back towards the break room, dragging his nailed hand along the paint of the wall.