Detainee Processing Facility 3
Zone Whiskey 2
Southeast Corridor of the Aryana-Baroturk Line
Zone Whiskey 2
Southeast Corridor of the Aryana-Baroturk Line
Justice is said to be blind, in essence it must be impartial and inconsiderate of circumstances. This is an ideal which compels one imagination, yet hastily condemns another to retribution for even the most accidental of crimes. Jacenty Piotrowski, a Baroturk born Sarmatian, was a victim of either his own laziness, or a most unfortunate circumstance. The Justice System of a foreign nation, controlled by a nation more remote then that, Oikawa, would ultimately decide his fate.
"Can you tell me where it all began?" Detective Capraru asked of Jacenty, slipping in to a cold metal chair with his freshly lit cigarette.
"I . . Well" Jacenty staggered out from the shadows in a filthy and disheveled uniform, the one he had been wearing the day of his incident. A swollen left eye caused the young man to favor the right so that he approached with his face cantered, as he reeled towards Detective Capraru like an old crone. "My morning began like any National Riflemen' does, sir" he answered, choking over each groveling word.
Detective Capraru could not quite imagine for himself what that might look like, not at all he realized after a few moments more. From the Defense Emblem pinned over his left breast pocket, most would know that Capraru had served in some capacity within the Federal Defense Apparatus, though now he worked for the Director of External Defense, Arkady Ostrogski. The National Riflemen of Barazi were a different animal altogether, Capraru could not say with any authority that he knew what a Baroturk Riflemen did in the interludes between high-profile operations and an infamy for punishment within their own corps.
"Start from the beginning, Jacenty" the Detective leaned forward, "you will not spare me a single detail". Jacenty forced a nod and an awkward smile over dry cracked lips. "Give me just a moment to collect myself, sir" he asked, which Capraru was happy to abide by while preparing a pen and notepad to record. There was a transient moment of warmth in the room, Jacenty had produced a photo of his naturalized Baroturk family with his Sarmatian Father and native Baroturk Mother, and three siblings. "These are their faces" Jacenty commented, "I can only remember their faces as they are seen here, smiling" he said, but the moment was over already, Capraru was tapping away with his pen on a clear clipboard impatiently. They were ready to begin.
Jacenty slipped in to a sort of trance, rubbing greasy palms over the worn down fabric on his knees, this was his nervous tick Capraru then realized. "In garrison, if you could call it that, a Riflemen Batallion is roused quite fittingly by a six shots from the 'Reveille Rifle'" Jacenty whispered, without care that his captors would beat him for his sarcasm later, "I was to take the line at 0700, I arrived fifteen minutes prior with the uniform I wear now, it was mostly clean on that day as I recall".
"Good Mister Piotrowski, very good. And who did you relieve at the line?" the Detective asked, remembering his visit to the Aryana-Barazi border prior to this encounter, a most grim locale. Snow never stuck to the ground for very long in this season, which caused mud to rise up where the mens boots frequented, and the sicknesses that come with with the conditions of wetness and despair.
He knew the name immediately, "Mehmet" he spat, "Mehmet Younan".
"What was your relationship with Mister Younan exactly? My record states he is a fellow Enlisted Man in the 4th National Riflemen, 18th Border Patrol?" the Detective said in review. "That is all true, sir, all true. He was more, which your files won't reveal, we had a special relationship him and I".
Capraru glared at the suspect, his patronage in the Church of Paraclasty obligated him to offer only disdain for this social deviant. "Spare me not, boy. This special relationship, describe it to me at once!" the Detective demanded sharply. Jacenty giggled for a moment, taking comfort that he had made yet another Federal Agent squirm, "We are . ." his smile faded, ". . were romantically involved". At once the Detectives mind spun like a top. The Baroturks were on the verge of prompting another Great War, all because of this young man who was misguided with his loins.
This would not be good enough, not for the Federation, and certainly not good enough for the Oikawans. Capraru engaged him in eyesight once again, this time he saw something different in the young man, and then he knew. "You're not queer at all, are you Mister Piotrowski? You need to learn some God damn respect Mister Piotrowski, the Easterners will neither sit nor stand for this insolence".
"Are'nt I? And won't they?" Jacenty retorted. The Detective was across the small cell before he could brace for impact, Capraru delivered a hard right fist beneath the sternum. Collapsing to the floor, Jacenty coughed and gasped for air, "Straight or not, you are the one writhing on the floor right now, are'nt you?"
"I am! . . I am! . ." the suspect exclaimed, "Then start telling the God forsaken truth, Baroturk . ." Capraru whispered, pulling young Jacenty back in to his seat. "I could report the truth, half of it, or complete fantasy - and it would'nt make a difference to them, don't you understand?" pleaded Jacenty.
Detective Capraru shrugged even though he knew quite well how true that statement was. The half man half pulp before him was to be a scapegoat, it really did not matter at all how he pleaded, all that mattered was that there was a show to it all, a showcase of respect to the heavy hand of Eastern Justice. "You fell asleep" Detective Capraru exclaimed, "that is all there is to it, you were an overworked Riflemen who fell asleep on a 36 hour guard duty". The suspect sighed, "I fell asleep, and I am to die for a few moments of shut eye".
"If its any consolation, they'll give it to you quick" Detective Capraru closed the notepad and pen away in a huff, "The East is at peace, regardless of what they are reporting, they just want to make an example, this will not be a grudge killing". Both men knew precisely what that would entail, if Jacenty was a prisoner of war and not just a prisoner of circumstance. Life was hard for the Midlands of Europe, harder for a Baroturk straddling the East. The Union of Democratic Blue could not afford to save a foreign soldier in mere principle alone, a necessary expense to their greater vision of liberty perhaps; somehow they would explain this fundamental breach of liberty away if it could be arranged.
"You and I will rehearse your story every day until the trial, every detail, do you understand?" Capraru asked. "What if, well, what if I refuse?" the suspect asked in complete innocence. "It's really quite obvious isn't it though, Mister Piotrowski?" the Detective chuckled, "Your Family, we have them in custody. They will be looked after, back in the Sisterland of course, if you follow the script we prepare exactly and without waiver". Jacenty sunk in to himself like a blackhole, only to explode back outwards with a short but vile stream of vomit which splattered over the concrete walls like paint on canvas.