The bloodstains on his shirt haven't even dried when she entered. He was a bit annoyed, of course, that he would have to leave his particular choice or prey for a new subject, but orders were orders and thus he followed her bidding. She led him into another, similar room, where his next interrogation target awaits. Leo pondered what a busy time it was for interrogations, thanked her, and entered the room.
The subject was another adult Caucasian male. How boring. But, and Leo made a double take when he realised it, this new subject had an extreme case of scarring. The scars looked, however, dissimilar to torture scars - more like fire scars, or acid scars. The subject raised his head when he heard Leo enter, and Leo could see that even beyond the discoloured, misshaped skin lies a very emaciated head; part of the nose was missing, along with most of the right cheek, and he could only imagine if there were even eyes underneath the blindfold. It was a gruesome sight. Not, of course, as pleasantly gruesome as fresh, scarlet blood, but it was worth some merit.
"Who are you?" Leo began. Not a very creative greeting, of course, but it was a classic.
The scarred man looked about him, brows (or rather, brow, as the right one seemed incapable of regrowing) descending and vanishing underneath the blindfold. Leo thought that the man looked disoriented.
"Merlin," he finally said. Leo had to restrain himself from scoffing. What kind of mother names their kid Merlin?
"Your real name?" he insisted. Merlin remained silent for another while, again leaving Leo feasting on the sight of his disfigurement. In the short interval that passed, a thought hit him, about his sister back in Brisbane, the sister who always wanted to see the Phantom of the Opera. If only she were here to see this man, she could've sworn that he was said Phantom, since their disfigurements were somewhat similar. That is, he thought with a private chortle, if she could stand the sight without having to empty the contents of her sto-
"Just Merlin, please," Merlin said again presently, breaking Leo from his reverie. "David Crown, but Merlin."
David Crown. Not an altogether very original name. No wonder the man chose a nickname. But still - Merlin?
"Who sent you here?" Same old, same old. Not as if they ever complain.
"No-one sent me." Oh, here goes again - "I come on my own, to look for my friend."
So this Merlin was the rescue party. No doubt the rescuee would be the Gilliat man on the other room. Leo's lips twisted into a smile as he remembered how he left the other subject, still tied to his toppled-over chair, and somewhat exsanguinated. "Walter Gilliat?"
The scarred man paused. "Yes," he finally said, and there was a fresh undertone of cold, clammy fear in his voice. "What did you do to him?"
"Where do you come from?"
"What did you do to him? Where is he?"
A strange rattling noise interrupted Leo from replying. He turned his head sharply to look at the door and found, to his surprise, that the latch had slipped off. Leo turned on his heel, reattached it to where it belonged, and returned to his su-
"He's here, isn't he? Gilliat must be here, I know it. Where is he?"
"In this place, I ask the questions. Now, where - "
The rattling sound returned, and Leo spun round just in time to see the door latch falling down again. But before he could return it to its place, the prisoner behind him had begun speaking again:
"Take me to him, or I'll find him myself."
I guess I need to explain to all ye who have never met him. Merlin/Crown/Daffy is a metallokinetic. In superhero-speak, that means he can control metals. In Avatar-speak, he's a metalbender. In wizard-speak - well, I don't know, really.
Glossary of La Reinaisms
Aheheh: onomatopoeia for a chuckle, esp. a mischievous one
Hurm: onomatopoeia for thinking; a standard reply when all else fails
Spam: an all-purpose word