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denverneumann · 2 months

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TASK 004. THE INTERROGATION

They cornered her in the staff break room, where she was collecting her things after her shift was over. Two Peacekeepers in their full kits. They loomed over her, side by side. Denver couldn’t see their faces behind the visors of their helmets.

“Hi, can I help you?” she asked. “My manager isn’t scheduled to be on until later, but -”

“Denver Neumann,” the Peacekeeper on the left said, and Denver wasn’t sure if it was a question of her identity or a statement. Her pulse quickened, a defensive reaction from her teenage years of being, if not on the wrong side of the law, slightly adjacent to it. She didn’t like Peacekeepers all that much.

“Come with us, please,” said the Peacekeeper on the right. Denver felt her face scrunch in confusion. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and she’d worked retail long enough to know when anyone was stealing. “We just have some routine questions,” Right clarified, and Left gestured toward the door. They stood still, waiting.

“Of course,” Denver replied. Routine questions. This must happen before every Arena. It wouldn’t surprise her if her manager had left that out of training. There was a sinking feeling in her gut that she ignored. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. And she’d always been taught to be polite to Peacekeepers, so the adult, responsible Denver smiled, and walked with them out the door.

At Left’s terse directions, Denver made her way to one of the fancy private areas, most likely a sponsor lounge. She was told to sit at the table, and Left sat across from her.

“I’m going to grab us some coffee before we get started,” Right said. “Two sugars, right, Captain?” Left nodded, and Right turned in Denver’s direction. “Anything for you? If you don’t like coffee we’ve got some tea, or just some water.” Denver swallowed. She hadn’t even noticed how parched she’d become.

“Some water would be lovely,” she said, and then Right was gone, the closing of the door setting off a brief flicker from a nearby recessed bulb before it went bright again. Left, the Captain, took off his helmet.

“Ms. Neumann,” he began.

“Oh, shouldn’t we wait for -”

“I’m Captain Magnus Valorant,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken. “I’m conducting an investigation into the rebellion.” Denver’s eyes widened. Captain Valorant was an older man, probably the same age as Denver’s father, though they looked nothing alike. Where her father had a loving gaze, this man had hard lines, his face even, uncaring. She supposed he had to be. Peacekeepers were supposed to be, right? But…

“So why am I here?” Denver asked, before she could help herself. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was rude. I just meant…I thought these were routine questions.” If he took offense at her words he didn’t show it.

“Can you account for your whereabouts between the 134th Hunger Games and your arrival to the Tower?” he asked. Her whereabouts? What was this, some kind of interrogation, like in the movies?

“I…yes,” Denver said. The sinking in her gut reached its destination, then became a gnawing. Once again, she ignored it, and tried to swallow against the rough sandpaper that her mouth had become. “I spent most of that time working at the Capitol Arena, as a tour guide. I have the pay stubs, if you need them. If I wasn’t there I was at the University library, or the Hunger Games Museum, or my apartment. Mrs. Jenkins can vouch for me for the library, and Vetiver Cutglass can for the Museum.” She tried to rattle off her alibi like a seasoned pro, like she’d seen on screen, but her voice shook, and she began to wring her hands together under the table.

“Can you account for your whereabouts since your arrival at the Tower?” Captain Valorant asked. His gaze was locked on hers, and she tightened her grip as she twisted her fingers together, trying not to look away. She hadn’t done anything wrong. What was this? Why was he being so cold?

“Just here and my apartment,” Denver said.

“Just here and your apartment,” Captain Valorant repeated. “And that’s all?”

“That’s all,” Denver assured him. “It’s a lot more work than I anticipated, but honestly, it’s all so exciting, and -”

Denver was interrupted again when the door opened, and Right walked in with two mugs in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The water was placed in front of Denver, who released her hands and gulped, nearly gasping at the reprieve from how tense the room had become, and how dry her mouth was. When she looked up, Right had their helmet off, and grinned at Denver.

“Someone was thirsty,” they remarked with a chuckle, and then Right turned to their captain. “Where are we?”

“Ms. Neumann was just telling us that she has only been in the Tower and at her apartment since her arrival the week before Reaping Day,” Captain Valorant said. His tone and demeanor hadn’t changed, and he’d barely acknowledged the mug now sitting by his left hand.

“Really?” Right asked. “But I thought -” Captain Valorant held up a hand, silencing them.

“Ms. Neumann, have you ever been outside the Capitol?” he asked, his steely eyes meeting hers once more.

“A few times, on vacation with my family,” she said.

“And have you ever visited any Arenas beside the Capitol Arena?” he asked.

“Yes,” Denver said. “My dad took me on an Arena tour a few years ago.” Captain Valorant nodded, as if this confirmed a theory to which only he was privy.

“And tell me, Ms. Neumann, did that tour include the 61st Arena, or the 105th?” he asked.

“Yes,” Denver said again. She tried to think back, knowing she’d visited them, but not remembering why they were important. She’d still been on the fence about school at the time, and her father had been trying to encourage her. She’d spent the entire trip struggling between being fascinated by the history and embarrassed by her dad. The particulars were a bit of a blur.

“So, you’re familiar with District Eleven’s northwest border, then?” Right piped up, leaning forward with a casual, easy smile.

Of course, Denver thought. Those Arenas were in some of the uninhabited areas of Eleven, near where it bordered Two. It was the closest border to the Capitol. The Peacekeepers were investigating the rebellion. It made sense that they’d ask this. Denver tried to calm herself, and took a deep breath.

“I am,” she told the Peacekeepers, carefully placing her hands neatly folded on top of the table to stop herself from wringing them again. “Although that was the only time I’ve visited Eleven.”

“The only time?” Right asked. “Oh, you have to go back in the summer - the southern coast is gorgeous, almost reminds you of District Four at the peak of their high season. Easily one of my favorite places in Panem.”

“Oh,” Dener said. That was all she could think to say. She tried to return Right’s smile, but it wavered into a nervous grimace. Right looked kindly at her, probably pitying her for her nerves, and patted Denver’s hands.

“Why don’t I get you more water?” Right asked. Without waiting for Denver’s response, they nodded reassuringly and picked up the glass, heading back out the door. This time, the closing of the door knocked the lightbulb out. Though the room only dimmed slightly, as there were plenty of lights, it seemed somehow impossibly darker. Captain Valorant took a deep inhale, his face changing from looking cool and neutral to assessing Denver.

“Have you noticed anyone in the Tower acting suspicious or out of character?” he asked. Denver felt herself tense at the subject change.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “This is my first Games at this job.” The Captain hummed, considering her.

“Are there any individuals you suspect of having partaken in seditious activity?” he asked. His tone was leading, but Denver didn’t know where.

“No?” she said, but it came out as a question. “No,” she tried again. “I genuinely wouldn’t know.” There were footsteps in the hallway, and Denver thought perhaps Right was coming back, but the door didn’t open. Denver and Captain Valorant remained alone in the dimly lit room. He leaned back in his chair, studying her.

“Ms. Neumann,” he said, “I do believe you’re lying to me.” Denver froze.

“What?” she asked. The air felt pulled from her lungs. But she hadn’t been lying. She’d been telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been lying to us this whole time,” the Captain said. His voice was calm, but his gaze was accusatory.

“I haven’t been,” she insisted.

“And you’ve only been to the Tower or your apartment in the last week and a half?” he asked.

“Yes, I…” Denver’s voice died in her throat. No, she hadn’t. On a dare, she’d snuck a tribute out of the Tower. They’d gone to a club. But they’d come back. It had been fine. No one had seen them. And it was just a club. It wasn’t a rebel rally. But oh good god, she’d lied. To a Peacekeeper. Denver shut her mouth, and didn’t attempt to swallow to relieve the dull, dry ache this time.

“So you didn’t secret a tribute out of the Tower last night?” he asked. He leaned forward, the corner of his mouth quirking up, just slightly, as if to say gotcha.

“I-I–” Denver stammered. How had she done this when she’d been caught before? Sixteen suddenly felt like a lifetime ago, the only instincts coming back to her were the nausea and the deep desire to run like hell. But Captain Valorant’s gaze pinned her to her seat.

“You took Farina Bankcroft to a club,” he stated. “A club known to be frequented by rebels.”

It was what? Denver stiffened. It was what?

“Who were you two meeting?” he asked.

“N-no one,” Denver stammered without a hint of conviction behind her words. Captain Valorant stood up, and leaned over the table, closer to her.

“Who were you meeting?” he asked again.

“No one,” Denver repeated. “No one, I swear. I didn’t know.” How could she have known? He leaned closer still, and her breath hitched, catching in her throat as a familiar dry heat rose to meet it. No, she couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She hadn’t done anything wrong. The Captain smirked again, and then sat back in his chair. Relief flooded Denver for the briefest of moments.

“We’ve been watching you, Ms. Neumann,” Captain Valorant said. He reached down to pull a file from a bag Denver hadn’t seen on her way in. He dropped it on the table with a resounding smack, and then flipped it open. Denver couldn’t read much upside down, but she was able to catch her own name. “You’re on record as stating that the Hunger Games are…” he scanned the file. “Brutal, horrific, and a violation of what in the pre-Dark Days would have been called human rights. Care to confirm?” Denver paled.

“Yes, or I mean, I am on record stating that,” she said. She had written those exact words in a paper her last year in college. Was he reading her paper? If he was reading her paper he’d have to have seen her conclusion about the necessity of the Hunger Games for the sustainability of Panem. He had to know she believed in their cause.

“Those who know you would describe your fascination with the Games as unlike a traditional fan,” he continued, and raised a hand before she could speak. “That wasn’t a question. You approach the Games with a fervor that your friends would describe as a reverence, yet you insist repeatedly that you aren’t a fangirl.” Friends? What friends? Who had he been talking to? “Have you ever heard the expression that there is a fine line between love and hate, Ms. Neumann?” Denver refused to meet his gaze, knowing that tears would well up if she did.

“It’s not like that,” she said, slowly, trying to keep her voice even, although she was shaking like a leaf. “The Games are important. They’re necessary. I wrote that in the essay too.” Captain Valorant chuckled again.

“You did,” he agreed. “You have quite the colorful prose in here. ‘The conditions in which the government pits child against child, in a match to the death, are such that there can be no denial of the capacity in even Panem’s most innocent of citizens for extreme violence and acts of evil.’ I wouldn’t have graded it quite as high has your teacher did. I never was fond of a meandering sentence.” Even without looking up Denver felt the burn of tears pricking the corners of her eyes, a deep shame washing over her. He was taking her words out of context. “You believe that what you’ve described as brutal horrors are the fault of the government?” He asked.

“No,” Denver said, but her voice broke and it came out desperate. “Not fault. It’s not a fault it’s…demonstrative.” There was such a tremor in her speech that Denver couldn’t even be certain that all the words she was saying were actually making it out of her mouth. “It’s to show us who we were before the Capitol stepped in. Demonstrative,” she repeated.

“Who were you meeting?” The Captain asked again.

“No one. I wasn’t meeting anyone,” she told him, and risked looking back up at his face, now contorted into something threatening and hateful. “No one, I swear.”

Denver heard the slap before she felt it.

“Do you think I’m a fool, Ms. Neumann?” Captain Valorant asked with a snarl, leaning over the table once again as stinging nettles bloomed across the side of Denver’s once again downturned face. She shook her head, not daring to speak. “Who. Were. You. Meeting?” His voice was an inch from her skin, though she couldn’t see him through her tears, but rather felt the words as he punctuated each of them.

“No one,” she tried to say, but it came out as a sob. “No one,” she said. It was a plea. She was begging him to believe her. “No one, no one, no one.” Her entire body shook, and she broke down, curling into herself as tightly as she could without falling off of her chair.

The door opened.

“Ah, damn, looks like that light’s out,” Right’s voice said. There were footsteps, and then what sounded like a glass of water once again being placed in front of her. “I’ll talk to maintenance about it.”

“Let’s you and I head over there together, shall we?” Captain Valorant's voice suggested. There was a sound of paper shuffling, and a zipper. The Captain’s chair scraped back, so loud, too loud. “Remember, Ms. Neumann,” he said from further away. “We’re always watching.”

The Peacekeepers turned off the lights on their way out.

“No one,” Denver whispered again, into true darkness this time, still huddled on her chair, and still shaking. “No one, I wasn’t meeting anyone, I swear.”

#this....got away from me #mtotask #135 #135 pre arena #self para

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