The Icebox - 14. The Interviewer

Zafiro

 

So I got my ass handed to me.

 

I mean I knew I wasn’t a fighter but damn!

 

It was hand to hand combat today and man was that rough!

 

My whole body aches and I just want to lay down and never move again.

 

Possibly cry as well.

 

Not at all confident in my fighting ability.

 

Leave with a gun then it should maybe be no problem. As soon as I lose that, I’m dead.

 

I mean I did learn a few moves.

 

I learned how to get away from being pinned down.

 

Maybe that’s the most important thing, right?

 

My trainer said I’m alright at dodging, but I get distracted very easily which lets him get those hits in.

 

He said I’m lucky I’m fast and hit like a truck. I just lack any discipline or grace; whatever that means!

 

I will say, it’s kinda making me miss Tin Can more.

 

Isn’t this the training he went through?

 

Probably not since he wasn’t in a squad. He was just a city patrol officer.

 

We know how useless those are!

 

Not too sure if that’s changed in the last few years.

 

I bite the inside of my cheek thinking about that.

 

“...You won’t ever find out…”

“You’re their puppet now.”

“They are using you like Cody used your parents.”

 

I guess they are.

 

I mean I already knew that.

 

The fact they handed me a gun was telling enough. Henson seems nice I suppose, even though he brought me in.

 

Can’t wait for that lady to bitch at me when I meet her!

 

I grab my towel and wipe at my face more.

 

Too hot for me. I’m sweaty as hell.

 

Henson wanted us to keep going when the air is turned off as if he’s the devil himself.

 

Gus is probably handling it the best.

 

He’s no fighter like me, but he at least doesn’t look as winded as everyone else.

 

I get a tap on my shoulder.

 

“Come on,” My trainer nods behind him. “Let’s do one more move.”

 

I groan and lay back into my chair. “I thought we were already done!”

 

He claps and loudly tells me to come on until I finally push myself back onto my feet.

 

We reach the mat and I stretch my sore arms above my head.

 

A box appears out of the ground and he pulls out what looks like my baton.

 

I narrow my eyes at that.

 

“Did you all steal my shit? How did you even find out where I lived?”

 

His head tilts in confusion. “We just made this weapon. Ah…I did to be precise. I used old footage of you and your fighting style.”

 

I could feel him cringe at calling it that.

 

I just smacked everything and hopped for the best.

 

He pulls out some black gloves and hands them to me.

 

They wrap tight around my hand and only covers the middle three fingers. There is some nice padding to the knuckles too.

 

I notice these have the same button that shoots out my grapple hooks. Obviously it doesn’t have any right now.

 

The blackout button is still there somehow.

 

That’s stupid of them to do.

 

“These will be part of your suit,” He says. “The reason you’re wearing those right now is to test this new weapon.”

 

He tells me to hold open my hand and press my favorite button.

 

“You’re joking,” I laugh. “I’m not gonna press that on the moon. Not even gonna joke about it with you.”

 

He chuckles and nods to my hand. “C’mon press it. You’ll be surprised.”

 

I smile at him and his little joking around. “Fine. We die? It’s on you.”

 

“Don’t forget to leave your hand open,” He points out.

 

Rolling my eyes, I finally press it.

 

There is a small vibration on the palm of my hand before the baton suddenly flies into my hand.

 

Alright I wasn’t necessarily expecting that.

 

Extending the baton, I flip it a bit.

 

So the magnet stops as soon as it’s in my hand?

 

I’m surprised I never thought of this before!

 

Sadly I wouldn’t be able to figure out the tech to manage that.

 

“Now press the second on the baton,” The trainer says. “It’s near the tip.”

 

A bit confused with that new button, I press it and the baton fully extends into a sorta pole? It’s almost as tall as me!

 

I raise an eyebrow at this nerd.

 

“Are you trying to make me pole dance for you?”

 

He laughs before he ends up choking and coughing in surprise. “God no! I just wanted to show you your new tools for the incoming missions!”

 

I smirk and press the button again.

 

As I guessed, it collapses back to a smaller size.

 

“So no more fighting,” I ask. “I can only take so much from you.”

 

I say that last part with a wink.

 

He laughs and shakes his head. “Alright, you're free to go. Tomorrow you better be ready for more though!”

 

After giving everything back to him, I head back to the chairs.

 

As he is walking towards the stairs, I stop him again.

 

“What is your name,” I ask. “Kinda feels weird getting beat up by someone I don’t know the name of.”

 

He shrugs. “Sadly we’re not allowed to give names for now. Maybe soon.”

 

Mr. Trainer walks off to the wall to turn in my results I guess.

 

Weird, I can't know his name yet.

 

I watch Zee get knocked on his ass.

 

They kinda gave him a huge opponent. It’s rather unfair.

 

At least he won’t have to worry about that too much. He can just burn his light orbs through everyone.

 

Henson comes up to me. “There is someone important I want you to see. You’ll be escorted to a room later today.”

 

I raise a brow at him.

 

“And who is this important person,” I ask. Part of me thinks it’s that lady.

 

He opens his mouth to reply but he hesitates.

 

“If I tell you, you most likely wouldn’t want to do it. It’s a good thing though. It’s supposed to help doctors see if they can manage to help you with your problems.”

 

“Who says we’re a problem?”

“Yeah we’ve been good!”

“Don’t let them hurt us, Zafiro!”

 

Now this…this is stupid.

 

~~~

 

The Interviewer

 

“This is fucking stupid!”

 

I flinch slightly as Zafiro comes into the room practically shouting.

 

He’s a lot smaller than I thought he would be. Henson made it sound like a big dangerous villain with tons of issues.

 

Probably another client I’m supposed to see here.

 

Henson points to the chair in front of my table.

 

“You sit down and shut up,” He booms. “That’s an order!”

 

Zafiro groans and plops down on the chair. He places his hands on table.

 

They have placed some kind of brace that keeps his hands pressed together.

 

U.U.P.P. wanted to keep me as safe as possible.

 

I’ve got a mask and full uniform covering every inch of skin. The mask has a voice modulator to keep me as mysterious as I can be.

 

I don’t know this kid so I have no idea why this is necessary.

 

Henson gives me a thumbs up and closes the door.

 

Zafiro looks me over with a raised brow.

 

“You some kind of plague doctor?”

 

I chuckle and shake my head. “Thankfully not.”

 

Opening my folder, I thumb through all the paperwork about this man’s life.

 

He scoffs. “You’ve got paper? So you’re some old nerd.”

 

I’ve got a bit of a jokester it seems.

 

“Close,” I say and cross my arms. “I’m here to figure out what’s going on with you. Once we do, we’ll see if we can find the right medicine to help.”

 

He shakes his head. “Medicine isn’t gonna help. That feels quite clear to me.”

 

“Perhaps not the type you’re used to,” I quickly add. “There are some species out there that have special abilities to help with these problems.”

 

For a second I see a hint of hope flash in his eyes, or maybe it’s the strange brightness in them.

 

It is quickly washed away and he waves it off...or attempts to.

 

“I doubt it will help,” He says with a roll of his eyes. “They wouldn’t go through all this effort for someone like me.”

 

I shrug. “I’m here aren’t I?”

 

That’s not entirely a lie. I’m mostly filling in a favor for Henson.

 

He is high up in the U.U.P.P. ranks so I think it counts.

 

“So,” I lean back in my chair and ready my pen to take notes, “What can you tell me about yourself?”

 

While there is a good amount about his abilities in his files, none of it is about his life before being placed in our system.

 

How he managed to avoid being placed in our records when he was born is beyond me. He doesn’t even have the chip all citizens are required to get at birth.

 

He shrugs. “I’m a thief on the moon. Not much else.”

 

Ah. The secretive type.

 

Great.

 

“Listen,” I sigh. “I know this is just the first recording, but if you want to get this over with sooner, I’m going to need details about your life. How you got these augments, where you were born, anything that may help us find possibilities for your problems. Why not start with why there was a chip attached to your brain?”

 

He looks at me in disgust, “Is this some kind of weird therapy session? I didn’t sign up for this!”

 

I give him a deadpanned look. I mean he can’t see it but whatever.

 

“You are being forced to do this,” I say. “If you wish for good results, we have to work together.”

 

He shrugs. “Fine by me if we just stop entirely! I’m getting used to these voices! I’d even call them friends!”

 

I nod along and write that down.

 

Zafiro glances at my writing and sighs. “That was a joke, ya scarecrow.”

 

Interesting nickname.

 

“All I know is that your mother was a previous painting thief who went missing,” I say, ignoring what he said. “Is there anything you can tell me about that?”

 

He leans back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling. “No. Nothing there.”

 

His voice sounded more distant saying that.

 

“Is she aware you are here,” I ask.

 

He nods.

 

“Does she know about your problems?”

 

He looks me in the face again.

 

“The voices don’t like when you call them problems. They find it rude.”

 

I raise my brow at that.

 

Some progress at least.

 

“Do you find it rude,” I ask carefully.

 

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

 

Nodding along, I quickly note this down.

 

“I have been told you play loud music in your cell. Is it to drown out the voices?”

 

He nods slowly.

 

“So you find them annoying?”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Who the fuck wouldn’t be annoyed by constant bitching in your ears?”

 

“They say derogatory things to you then,” I say.

 

Zafiro’s fingers tap against each other as he fidgets in place.

 

“It’s alright,” I say gently. “Are they saying these things right now to you?”

 

He stops moving entirely and stares me down, a smirk slowly forming on his face.

 

“No,” He says. “Just telling me that I should kill you.”

 

My heart starts pounding and my blood runs cold hearing that.

 

He suddenly laughs loudly and slaps the table. “I’m kidding! God, you’re uptight!”

 

I huff out a small laugh, still a bit rattled by that.

 

Clearing my throat, I say, “You realize I was called in here because you lost control in the light box, right?”

 

He gives a tired smile. “Yeah. Yeah I know.”

 

He wiggles his brace as if that makes it more clear.

 

I suppose it does.

 

“Zafiro, do you have any idea why you are hearing these voices? Were you born with it? Suddenly grow into it? Are they from your augments?”

 

I can tell he is forcing himself to come off as if he doesn’t care, that there isn’t a concern for his situation, but I can see it as clear as day.

 

He’s scared.

 

“I have no idea,” He says with a smile. “I just woke up one day and started hearing things.”

 

Shaking my head, I pull up my holopad to bring out the footage where he publicly killed a man on galaxy-wide television.

 

Turning it to show it to him, I ask, “Can you tell me if it has something to do with this man?”

 

His eyes widen and he quickly turns away.

 

“I, uh,” He says quietly. “He was a jerk.”

 

“Is that all,” I ask. “Just a jerk? Are you that quick to kill those you don’t like?”

 

I don’t even believe he is. I’m only asking the question to see if he’ll answer.

 

He shakes his head but refuses to look me in the face.

 

He looks down at his shoulder, his expression changing with different emotions.

 

Zafiro constantly shakes his head or gives small nods, his lips move but I can’t make out the words he is saying.

 

“What are they saying,” I ask calmly. “I’m here to help, okay? It would be good to know what they say to you.”

 

He looks up at me, perhaps a bit surprised?

 

“They…I-I don’t even know your name,” He says, clearing his throat. “It would be weird to share secrets with someone I don’t know. They aren’t mine after all.”

 

Interesting. I had not expected him to offer his trust, and theirs too I suppose.

 

Perhaps not trust, but simply giving in because the voices are speaking to him.

 

Maybe they are the ones pushing him to give it a chance.

 

That would be fascinating!

 

“I am called the Interviewer,” I say. “I do not have a name from where I am from. On my planet, we give ourselves titles from what actions we provide to those around us.”

 

He looks confused which is fairly normal from most humans.

 

I think for a moment he won’t believe me but then he sighs, sitting up in his chair.

 

“They are telling me that I was stupid for killing that asshole,” He says. “That it made everything go downhill from there.”

 

I nod and write that down.

 

Finally a bit of progress!

 

“Was he the reason for the chip?”

 

I see him wince when I ask that. He even tries rubbing the brace against his temple.

 

He looks as if he wants to say, but he seems to be fighting against it.

 

“Maybe?”

 

I know he knows.

 

Clearing my throat, I say, “You seem to really not want to talk about your past. Is there a reason for it?”

 

He shrugs and his fingers twitch on the table. “I don’t like thinking about it.”

 

I smile to myself. “Maybe if we try, it can help you! If not to mentally stimulate you, it can at least help you overcome this fear of your past.”

 

“Pfft,” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not scared of my past. It’s not some ghost trying to haunt me.”

 

“Then why won’t you talk about it?”

 

He hesitates again.

 

“Did you go to school?”

 

Not even that gets an answer.

 

“Anything?”

 

He’s been careful not to look me in the face but now he stares at me again. This time it isn’t that creepy killer side he teased me with. This one shows his fear again.

 

What could he be so scared of?

 

“I like to think I like some control of my life,” He says. “I thought I had everything figured out. I learned really quickly just how scary everything really is. Everytime I think about the past, I think about how I kept fucking everything up. People are dead because of me and I can’t stop thinking of ways it all could’ve been avoided.”

 

There we go!

 

“The past isn’t there to hurt you, Zafiro,” I say. “It’s there to help you grow. These experiences help you become a better person. Being afraid of them only delays any learning you could achieve.”

 

He shakes his head, “That’s full of shit. It all got me here. Probably the worst place your actions can take you…at least it’s supposed to. Being here makes me feel guilty. It makes life on earth look like a joke!”

 

Thinking carefully on what to say, I’m hoping to say something that’ll mainly set him at ease.

 

“This place is supposed to make you think of your actions and learn what you did was wrong. Most already know that some facilities on earth do not work. This place is a different take on correcting those like you.”

 

While his crimes are rather severe, I am not here to talk about that. Still, if it bothers him, I’ll have to try and push him past it.

 

His crimes are the same being committed by U.U.P.P. They only get a pass because they are the leaders of course.

 

Obviously I can’t say that out loud for the recording.

 

He rests his head on the table. “You’re not the one in here doing time. It certainly doesn’t feel like I’m learning anything. All I think about is…people.”

 

“Like who?”

 

A small pause. “A guy I got close with. The one who helped me when everything was going to shit.”

 

“Roy Kyung,” I confirm.

 

He nods, staring at the wall next to us.

 

Yes there have been countless files about other interviewers talking to him about that day.

 

Well most of them repeated themselves. We just wanted to make sure he wasn’t lying about anything.

 

Either he is good at remembering his lies, or they were all truths.

 

Something about how unstable Zafiro is makes me wonder what he managed to avoid telling.

 

“Anyone else?” I ask. Hoping he might bring up more information on his past.

 

Anything to help me figure out what’s going on with him.

 

He shakes his head. “I try not to. It only makes me lonely.”

 

He blinks and sits up. “This is weird. I feel like I’m talking to a shrink of something. I don’t like it!”

 

I shake my head and smile. “I can tell you that this isn’t therapy. Most seem to think our questions are quite therapeutic. That is not at all the goal here if that is what makes you uncomfortable. I am simply gauging your brain and mannerisms.”

 

Zafiro nods slowly. “I guess that makes this not feel entirely weird. Still weird though. I don’t see how this is helping at all.”

 

I shrug. “If you wish to continue this another day, we can. It is up to you how long you want these sessions to be. I will be here for the next few months so if you need me, I am only one call away.”

 

He may try and fight coming here again, but like most, they always come back.

 

I end the recording and he leaves.

 

So far, all this tells me is that this might take awhile. He is incredibly vague and resists giving details. That's all fairly common but he is doing that at the wrong time when this is important to his health.

 

One thing I can say is that from what his files report, we are on a time limit for this to be effective in finding the right cure.

 

Hopefully he will open up more soon, for his own benefit.