Chapter 15: Grieselda
‘Why do I have to be here?’ Grieselda thought, leaned against a wall within a tiny steel room. No windows and poor illumination from the lone flickering light bulb.
Beside her, Gnabree pulled down his hood, revealing a weird electronic headband.
At the centre of the room was a small steel table mounted to the floor. Riberee was seated with his back to her, long sleeves half rolled up, garbed in a white leather apron.
Across Riberee was the code breaker. He seemed even shorter stripped naked, strapped to his chair, feet clamped to the floor, hands split apart and wrists clamped flat to the table.
Grieselda enjoyed seeing a restrained outlaw as much as the next cop but torture was a whole different beast.
The captain insisted on her presence to oversee the code breaker’s deciphering process. This made zero sense because they could record him and her presence wouldn’t alter the process in anyway. But Nigen had permitted it because the unibrowed fool always bent to the captain’s every whim.
Riberee clicked open a black briefcase. Cushioned inside where five different sized hammers and a spray can of Woundseal. He ran a hand through each hammer. Picked the largest one, an eight pound with a short handle and placed it on the steel table with a loud clank.
Riberee raised a finger.
“First punishment. You lie or refuse me. You lose a hand. Understand?”
The code breaker swallowed hard and Riberee didn’t wait for a reply.
“We need you to decode some communications for us. Are you willing?”
“Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything please just don’t hurt me,” the code breaker said in earnest.
‘That was easy.’
Grieselda sneered.
‘And the captain thought he was the loyal type.’
But then again, she reckoned emasculation and a little intimidation was enough to break any man.
Grieselda readied the tablet in her hands containing the Hillbrow communications.
“H-H-He’s lying,” Gnabree said.
Riberee exhaled dramatically. “You insult our profession. You think we haven’t seen your type before. Act all agreeable then lie through your teeth.”
“I’m not lying!” The prisoner protested. “Please I swear I’m not lying.”
Riberee gripped the eight pound with purpose. The code breaker’s mouth slackened and a hint of panic settled into his eyes. He peered over to Grieselda and Gnabree. “Please. I’m not lying.”
“Shh now.” Riberee held out his free hand for silence. “You had your chance to answer. Even if you backtracked now it wouldn’t change your punishment.”
Riberee’s head swayed over the prisoner’s hands, definitively rested on the left hand and he nodded to himself.
“Please,” the code breaker hissed as Riberee rose to his feet and raised the hammer over his head.
Bang! The hammer crunched into the prisoner’s hand. The code breaker roared, thrashed and yanked back his hand but the restraints held him firm and kept his hand in place.
“I’m sorry I lied,” he croaked. “I promis—”
Bang! The hammer cracked into the same spot, shattering more metacarpals and was quickly hoisted back into the air.
“Wait, wait,” the prisoner whimpered. Eyes leaking. Mouth bubbling saliva. “I’ll comply. I promis—”
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Bang! The hammer flashed down. Riberee’s aim slightly off, flattening a few fingers.
“Argh! I’m sorry. I’m sorr—”
Bang! Riberee seemed deaf to the man’s cries.
Grieselda grimaced.
She was sure most the bones in the prisoner’s hand were broken, surely he was ripe. Yet Riberee didn’t stop. The bangs became more frequent as he settled into a rhythm.
‘He’s going too far with this.’
How was the council condoning such behaviour? She’d heard rumours but watching him work. She could tell how much he enjoyed it.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Riberee paused, wiped a sheen of sweat of his brows.
The code breaker took laboured slobbering breaths. He glimpsed at his hand through wet eyes. His face twitched a mixture of agony and disbelief at the sight of his trampled hand, which was starting to tear and bleed.
Bang! The prisoner slobbered a scream as blood splashed, sprayed the torturer. Riberee’s lips quirked up.
Grieselda winced and looked away. She trained her sight on Gnabree who seemed numb to this despite his frail demeanour. Gnabree immediately glanced down upon noticing her, shifted uncomfortably under the non-existent pressure of her gaze.
‘How is he more disturbed by me looking at him than watching his savage twin?’
Grieselda pointed to the electronic headband he wore.
“Is that how you knew he was lying?”
“Shut up back there!” Riberee growled without turning back.
Grieselda furrowed her brows but kept quiet. She didn’t wish to undermine Riberee’s interrogation process. Though she suspected he was simply taking out his frustrations on the poor outlaw.
Gnabree leaned closer and whispered to her. “Riri d-d-doesn’t like it when I talk to strangers.”
‘We work together. How am I a stranger?’
Grieselda ignored the spittle spraying onto her ear and nodded with a disarming smile.
“T-To answer your question. Yes, it’s lie detector of sorts.”
Grieselda nodded again.
‘When did we invent such advanced lie detectors?’
It was centuries ahead of anything she’d used during previous assignments. She recalled the captain’s words.
Clearly the federation hasn’t given up their attempts at obtaining these secrets.
Had they cracked one of the old technologies? Unlikely, such a convenient item would’ve already been in mass production already if that was the case.
They say the tyrant was greedy with its secrets so its creations were encrypted and could not be reverse engineered.
‘Or they simply figured out how to work one of the old empire relics.’
Grieselda’s mood soured. She didn’t like it. No matter how convenient the old technologies were.
‘Some things are better left in the past.’
Why did humanity refuse to learn its lesson? Why are we so greedy? The council probably thought they were being careful and taking all necessary precautions. But that’s precisely what the World Government had thought when they created the Tyrant.
‘And the world suffered for their mistakes.’
“P-P-Please c-calm down,” Gnabree stuttered. Voice soft. “Y-Y-Your mood is throwing me off.”
Grieselda blinked when she noticed Gnabree was peeking her way.
‘Is it analysing mental fluctuations?’
“Sorry,” she said just as softly.
Grieselda turned back to the other twin, still going to work on the prisoner. She watched on horrified as he repeatedly hammered the squished hand. Blood squelched and sprayed everywhere with each swing. With every powdered bone and piece of flesh sent flying, she could finally envision Riberee’s masterpiece.
He was using a hammer to sever a hand. It would’ve been more merciful slice it off.
‘But I guess torturers aren’t in the business of being merciful.’
Riberee himself was bathed in blood and something more maniacal than a smile had taken root on his face.
Grieselda shuddered.
“P-P-Please don’t judge him,” Gnabree whispered.
‘I’m not.’ Was the appropriate response but with that lie detector on. Gnabree was immune to lip service.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
There was an awkward silence.
“I-I-It’s my fault, you know,” Gnabree said. “T-That he’s like this. I mean.”
Grieselda stared at the weak twin. Not sure how to respond.
“I’ve always been soft. So he’s always had to be tough for the both of us. At some point he went from being tough to being the aggressor.”
He seemed to gain momentum as he spoke. He stuttered less, and his tone became more confident, his voice remained soft but more forceful somehow, more sure of himself.
“I thought it couldn’t get worse but we were drafted into interrogation and he began to enjoy inflicting pain.”
‘Why is he telling me all this?’
“Because I don’t want you to judge him, because you don’t understand him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not,” he snapped. “Because you think everything is black and white and it’s not. Without people like us more evil would roam the streets. Do you even understand the importance of our work, you fucking judgemental bitch.”
Grieselda’s head jerked back. Stared wide-eyed, more surprised than offended.
“Nana!” Riberee shouted, peered over his shoulder, thick moustache sporting trickles of blood. “What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”
“S-S-Sorry Riri.” Gnabree stared back down like a scolded child.
Riberee dropped the blood-soaked hammer, it clanked on the floor and scattered spots of blood. “Clean that.”
“Y-Y-Yes brother.” Gnabree shuffled over. Flapped out a light red handkerchief which looked to have once been white. Kneeled, lifted the hammer and began polishing it clean.
Riberee sent a bloody hand into the case. Retrieved the can of wound seal and sprayed it over what remained of the code breaker’s wrist. He returned the can to the case and plucked out the tiniest hammer. A six ounce ball-peen hammer with a wooden handle and dropped it on the table. He plunged back into his seat and exhaled exhaustion.
“Okay let’s try again.” He gestured two fingers. “Second punishment. You lie or refuse me. I crush your balls.”