Hostage Interrogation (Stella, Kalama)

It hadn’t been a very pleasant trip through the forest and by the time Kalama found the wooden shack that she was looking for, the look on her face had become so murderous that it was probably more fatal than her zanpakuto. She didn’t think much of the place anyway but it’d been a useful spot for her in the past although she expected that after today, the assassin wouldn’t be able to return again. Not now, not after the fight that’d taken place but it didn’t bother her too much. The world was large and there were many places where she could go. There were many who desired her talents, after all. If there was one line of work that there was always plenty of, it was hers, if one knew where to look.

Pushing the door open, she’d haul the heavy sack of potatoes that she’d been fighting with into the miserable place and dump her onto a thick and heavy wooden chair. God, the Quincy weighed a ton and just another reason why Kalama hated her fucking guts. The woman looked absolutely battered, even more so after being dragged through the undergrowth although honestly, Kalama didn’t look much better. Her side and head were killing her, not to mention the damage done by the final attack, which had left some nasty burns on Kalama’s arms, as much a result of her own technique as the Quincy’s own.

Moving over to where the woman sat, Kalama would grimly add further bindings to the woman’s already tight restraints, making sure that the woman wouldn’t be going anyway, combining Kido and old fashioned ropework in order to make a rather painful set of ties. It could be said that she was rather skilled in the field and she’d be lying if she said the redhead had been the first person that she’d tied to her chair.

Once that was done, she’d shamelessly go through the woman’s pockets, retrieving her phone and placing any other valuables to one side. She never could say no and Kalama could always use some extra cash. All she had to do then was wait, sitting on the poorly made bed, playing about with the woman’s phone while the Quincy regained consciousness.

“Those idiots you were with were older than you and I dealt with them easily enough. Age doesn’t mean jack shit when it comes to power. You should know that much already, assuming anything can penetrate that thick skull of yours.” Kalama replied, not even looking at the redhead at that point, still fiddling about with the girl’s phone. The assassin didn’t recognise any of the names displayed but it was useful intel nonetheless. Clearly the woman had met her fair share of people in her time, people that Kalama could look into herself. Reaching over for her own phone, The Shinigami would start transferring details from the girl’s to her own, her fingers moving with great dexterity as she went about her work. “Thanks for giving me the names and numbers of your cohorts, by the way, I’ll make sure to find some time to visit them.”

Once she was done, she’d place both phones aside and stand up, walking a little gingerly over to the Quincy. Her mask was still on at this point although it was probably more of a hindrance than a help at this point. It was rather heavy and affected her breathing a little at this stage. Still, it made an impression and did its job well, serving her throughout all the years of her long life.

“To answer your stupid question. I can kill you whenever I will damn well please and the only reason I haven’t slit your throat already is because I’m not finished with you. You were stronger than those other shitheads and perhaps that means you might have some other information worth extracting. I’m not expecting much on that front but it will at least be entertaining to find out at least.”

Out of pure spite, Kalama would pull on the woman’s bindings, causing a chain reaction where each and every knot would gnaw against her skin. “I suggest you not wriggle around too much. I know what I’m doing when it comes to bindings and you’re going to feel them rub in the most sensitive of spots."

Tilting her head, Kalama mused for a few moments over her words, before offering a rebuttal. “Maybe they’re, maybe they’re not but there’s more than one way to hurt a person. If I can’t hunt them directly, I’ll rip their hearts out using other methods. I’m sure that a few of them would be rather upset about your current condition for example. I wonder what would happen if I took a picture of you and sent it to every one of them? That might just cause them a little pain.”

“That, however, is something for the future. Right now, what I want from you is knowledge of your organisation. I want to know who your bosses are, how the Vandenreich works and what their current goals are. I don’t believe for a fucking minute that they actually give a shit about the people of this realm. There’s always some ulterior motive and I want to know what that fucking well is. The Quincy only care about themselves and their fucking stupid pride.” There was genuine anger there, each word dripping with hatred.

“If you don’t tell me what I want then…” Kalama would lash out with the back of her hand, attempting to strike the redhead across the face.

In what might have seemed a surprising action, Kalama actually laughed at the woman’s answer although given that it sent a jolt of pain through her side, it might not have been her best course of action. The redhead was more naive than the assassin thought and the expression in her purple orbs would turn from anger to amusement. Surely the Quincy was talking bullshit. No one with half a brain would actually join a violent militia for that purpose.

“You joined that group of thugs to help people? Well you’ve done a pretty shitty job today, haven’t you? The Vandenreich don’t train their members for that purpose, they train them so that they can soak up a bit more damage when they’re used as cannon fodder. That’s all you are to them. They’re the same now as they were in the past. They don’t give a flying fuck about you and I doubt they’ll even bother to send anyone to find out what’s happened to you. Complete cunts.”

Moving around the back of the chair and out of the woman’s line of sight, Kalama would utter the release phase of her sword, causing the dagger to return. It was such a simple release and the green haired woman so often wondered why she never felt any different when using it. Every other Shinigami she’d met always felt stronger after doing so but not her. It was so baffling.

Yet, it had a purpose and as the blade charged with energy, she’d lean over the back of the chair to whisper in the woman’s ear. “That’s not what I asked though. I asked about how your organisation works. Stop trying to change the subject and answer my questions, otherwise I’m going to send a bolt of lighting through your restraints and believe me, it’ll fucking hurt.”

“That’s all there is to it?” Kalama questioned, partly to the girl and partly to herself. “You train, you kill Hollows and you go home? I suppose that’s nothing new when I think about it now. Your kind have always enjoyed massacaring the fucking things, whether it was your business to do so or not. It’s just a shame that we didn’t do the same to your kind when we had the chance. Poetic justice, if you ask me.”

Slightly frustrated, she’d sigh angrily and go on. “Guess I’m not going to learn much from you, am I? A blind grunt who’s only been in the fucking organisation for five minutes. No doubt you’re still kissing the ass of everyone you meet for letting you join in the first place. Fucking typical. Still, I suppose you’ve at least given me some names to follow up on. Maybe one of them will actually have something useful or at least give me a challenge for a change. Fighting peons does get awfully boring.”

In her anger, Kalama would press the tip of her blade against the Kido restraints, doing precisely what she’d promised to do. It wouldn’t be overwhelming pain but enough to add another level of discomfort to the woman. The assassin would admit that it was her favourite use of her zanpakuto although that wasn’t the same for the spirit who inhabited it. No, she didn’t like it at all.