Cyberpunk: Ultimate Cyborg System

Dragging a chair over, Rose sat down facing her captive. Her smile had already disappeared, leaving behind an impassive expression and dark, cold eyes.

"Let's start with something obvious." She said. "I want the names of your superiors. The people you answer to."

She crossed her legs and waited, holding the man's gaze all the while. His eyes remained unfocused, his face sullied with tears, snot and drool. Just as it began to appear that her wait would be prolonged, he seemed to regain his senses, his face twisting with fear.

"Good. I was about to take it out." Rose said. "Now, answer my question. What are the names of your superiors? I want the legal names, titles, monikers, nicknames. Anything that can be used to identify them with."

Among that list, legal names might be the most useless to know. Faking IDs has never been easier, even though the advancement of technology promised more security in such matters. All it takes is a phone call to the right people and anyone can get an entirely new identity, so long as they have the money, of course.

In the case of elusive gang leaders, knowing their titles and monikers could prove to be more useful in tightening the noose around their necks.

As she waited for a response, Rose turned to the black chatbox hanging to her left. A few seconds later, a message appeared.

[JB1: I'm gonna kill you bitch]

Her lips parted, and a disappointed sigh escaped. Reluctantly, she stood up and walked behind the man. Preferably, she wouldn't have had to look at the pudgy man's disgusting naked body. As if his lacking physique wasn't enough, he somehow thought that adding all those tattoos would make it better.

His legs turned mechanical halfway down his thighs. The fat seemed to spill out of the dock, like a dough that had expanded out of the loaf pan.

More than anything else, Rose didn't want to look at his behind, but she had to. It was the only way to ensure he gets to learn how it feels. Grimacing, she raised her hand and grasped the handle of the blunt dagger stabbed into his rear exit, then pulled.

She pulled, then pushed, pulled, then pushed, pulled, then pushed. Each movement of her arm felt like stabbing a knife through flesh, again, and again, and again. The muffled cries and groans never reached her ears, and so she continued. She pushed, then pulled, pushed, then pulled, pushed, then pulled.

At one point, she came back to her senses and remembered that her objective was to get answers to her questions. Pulling one more time, she removed the tool from its burrow. Her cold eyes caught sight of the red streaks left on its shaft, but she couldn't have cared less.

"Now, are you more willing to answer?" She walked to the front and tossed the stained tool on the workbench.

The seconds ticked by, but she got no answer. Heaving another sigh, she reached down and grabbed a different tool. It appeared no different from the last one, except for the slight increase in size.

Seeing the tool returned focus to the captive's eyes and filled his face with horror once again.

[JB1: Wait Wait Wait Wait

Please don't do it

I don't know anything

Please stop

]

"Wrong answer."

Gazing down at him, her eyes freezing cold, Rose waited for a different response. The pudgy man continued to beg, and she soon got tired of it, walking to the back. She held the tool, preparing to force it into a place it was never meant to enter. That was when she received a different message.

[JB1: I WILL TELL YOU!!!!

PLEASE STOP!!!!!

I WILL TELL YOU!!!!

]

"Is that so?"

Her eyes narrowing, Rose paused for a moment, then she put strength into her arms and pushed down.

"NGG-!!!"

Once the tool sank down, leaving only the handle outside, Rose let go of it and backed away. The pudgy man was static, only twitching from time to time.

"Ngh…nrrgh…"

[JB1: Why?

I said I will tell you

]

"I thought you'd pass out from this last one." Said Rose. "Guess you're a lot tougher than you look." With slow steps, she walked back to her seat, "So, how does it feel-" She said, crossing her legs and resting her chin in her hand. "to have something forced into you?"

She only got ragged breathing in return.

"Say, what made you think begging would work?"

With much struggle, he lifted his gaze and met her.

"You never stopped, right? No matter how much they begged."

Sweat trickled down his face, drawing lines over the black ink painting it.

"This tattoo…" Rose said, moving a finger in a circle as she pointed at his face. "One doesn't get it for just any small feet. It means you climbed all the way from a foot soldier to a squad leader." She paused, straightening herself and raising her hand, looking down with disgust. "It also means you have seen it all."

In Black Skull, squad leaders manage large teams of the lower ranks who are also divided into several groups. They start at the bottom just like everyone else, and through their achievements and service to the gang, they get promoted into higher positions, and the skull tattoo covering their faces would expand with each step on the ladder.

With three-quarters covered in ink, there was no doubt that Jeremy Barton climbed a lot of steps. Knowing the kind of effort needed for that, there was no doubt that he had to do things few have the heart to stomach. Rose was well aware of everything of everything he must have done, and that was what led him to this situation.

Reaching for the workbench, she grabbed another tool. Flicking her wrist caused it to expand, turning into a long baton. Recognizing what it was, Jeremy tore his eyes open. Rose pressed a button on the handle, and the baton suddenly started to crackle, thin sparks dancing along its shaft.

"From now on, I will only hear answers to my question. No crying. No begging." She said, pointing the rod at his face. "If I hear anything I don't want to hear, this will go in next. Do you understand?"