Like Arks


candy_icon.gif claire3_icon.gif don_icon.gif rasoul_icon.gif sanderson_icon.gif

Scene Title Like Arks
Synopsis Taken for a meeting with Rasoul, Claire is explained the purposes of the Vanguard bunkers, while Candy, Don Dixon and Sanderson find different fates.
Date December 12, 2009

Muspelheim Bunker

Antananarivo, Madagascar

By the time Claire was returned to her cell by Doctor Gregor, Candy had already fallen asleep in hers. It left for a quiet evening inside of the prison, and on her march to her cell, Claire counted some hundred prisoners, just on the level she's being kept on. This place is like a zoo, one where the animals are mistreated. Notably, most of them have bandaged arms and look malnourished, some though seem to be suffering from a wide degree of other injuries ranging from blunt-force trauma to amputated limbs and terrible scarring.

Locked in her cell, the night passes on to morning, and every so many hours, Claire can hear the sound of soldiers pulling people out of their cages and escorting them away from the prison. No more sign of Doctor Gregor though, not since he politely deposited her. It's cold, and half of her isn't dressed, if you could count a hospital gown as even half-covered.

By the time Candy is starting to awaken, someone else is already making the rounds in the prison. Cage doors are rattling open, whimpered cries from the prisoners being ejected from their cells, being rounded up for something. Eventually the sound of footsteps reach where Candy and Claire are kept, and the cell next to Candy's is opened loudly. "Alright, up and out!" One of the gray-uniformed soldiers shouts to the prisoner.

One guard aims a rifle into the cell while two step inside, forcibly dragging a man to his feet and out of the cell. "Fuck you y'sons'a bitches!" Something smashes inside of the cell, a shout, the sounds of a struggle than the crackling zap of electricity and a scream, followed by a crumpling thump of weight.

"Carry him up." One of the guards orders, waving for the guards to take Corporal Dixon out of his cell with the others. Turning, the Vanguard soldier in the gray uniform turns to look at Claire and Candy's cells. "We'll get these two, they've been down here long enough. Doctor Gregor can patch them up when they're done working the crowd."

Candy blinks as she returns to conciousness, and the cell. She attempts to try and get her bearings as she sits there, and she stretches. Right, back in the cell. Her eyes look around as she moves to get to her foot, looking at the men in front of her, and just itching to make him explode. But for now, she's content to wonder why Claire has her power, and Candy doesn't have hers.

Claire sits at the back of her cell, quiet…. it's been a long night for the regenerator… too much time in the night to let her mind wander to home.. friends and family. Her legs sit straight ahead of her, big toes lightly tap together to some unknown beat. Her hospital gown is tugged tight around her, in an attempt to protect her butt from the hard dirty floor. Hands are folded in her lap and her head hangs low, unwashed hair hanging as a curtain hiding her face. There is no movement to check out what is going on, she only sits there and listens, caught up in her thoughts.

When a fight erupts, there is a small tilt of Claire's head as she listens to the results. When the soldier looks at her cell, all she sees is the blonde girl sitting there contently.

"Alright, get the blonde one first." The soldier states, motioning to the cell door as one of the other guards approach with a ring of keys. "We'll get them weapons for— "

"Sargent." A sharp voice cuts thorugh the hall, and all of the soldiers freeze in their tracks, turning towards the sound of the voice and the slow progression of footfalls approaching from down the hall of the cell block. "These two are exempt from participation for the time being. If you could make do with the ones you have and…" Slowly coming into view, Candy will recognize the well-dressed and well-spoken man, but for Claire Bennet, this would be the first time she is able to lay eyes on the tanned features of General Edmond Rasoul, a man who looks more at place in a fashion magazine than under the weighty title of General.

"Take the Lieutenant. See if she feels like playing along." There's a motion of one of Rasoul's hands towards Sanderson's cell where she is silent. The soldier comes moving over, peers in Sanderson's cell, then clicks his baton against the bars. A muffled, grunting noise comes from her cell as she shifts onto her side and crawls to her knees.

"Come and get me…" Comes the hissed breath from Sanderson's cell, and Rasoul arches a brow as he listens to Sanderson's dry voice and bitter taunt. The lead guard walks to the door, unlocking it and sliding the cell door to the side. Sanderson's bare feet scuff along the ground, brows furrowed and lips taut in a frown. When the guard disappears into her cell and out of Claire and Candy's sight, Rasoul holds out a hand to stop the other guards from going in as well.

A loud scream, a crack and a snap acompanies the guard's entering into her cell, followed by a click and a pop and Sanderson's bare feet rushing out of her cell as fast as she can, blood sprayed up one side of her face and the guard's taser in her hand. When the guards go to reach for their guns, Rasoul holds out his hand to steady them.

Sanderson stops in the hall, taser out, electricity crackling between the two prongs as she spits out a piece of bloody skin that was once the guard's lower lip to the concrete floor.

Candy blinks as she hears the screams, and then sees the bloody Sanderson running into the hallway. An eyebrow gets raised, before she sighs softly and looks at the Lieutenant who has managed to accompany them this far. Green eyes just stare at her dispassionately, before the hydrokinetic says to her, "Goodbye." She doesn't quite see how this could turn out in anything but the marines death, and she sighs. She turns away from the scene outside of her bar, she doesn't want to watch the waste of life that she just knows is about to occur.

Emotionless blue eyes flicker up to look out of the cell, Claire's head comes up just enough for her to do this. A small smile curls on her lips at the sound of Sanderson's defiance, though it's short lived at the sounds. The ex-cheerleader climbs to her feet and pads softly across the cell, hands reaching out to curl around the bars. The grip tight as the Lieutenant comes running out, the flesh of her palms making a soft squeaking sound on the damp bars.

"Sanderson.." Claire murmurs from her spot, the first flicker of worry for the woman. Her head turns to look at Rasoul for the first time, eyes give him a once over, then he is quickly disregarded for the marine. She wants to tell her stop… don't do it.. not worth it.. but… wouldn't she try to do the same thing?

Instead, Claire offers a very lady like bit of advice.. "Zap'em in the crotch." Game on!

They're both still for a long period of time, the guards with their hands on their guns, Sanderson with the taser, and Rasoul standing with a hand out to ward off the guards. The silence hangs in the air, prisoners that weren't escorted out of their cells holding their breaths, fearful like beaten dogs, leaning to the bars to watch what happens. Rasoul tilts his head to the side, the fingers on his hand that ward off the guards twitch forward, as if goading Sanderson on.

The Lieutenant bursts into movement, darting away from one of the guards and tumbling on her shoulder between two more, coming up between the guards and Rasoul. She lunges forward with the taser, electricity snapping in the air as the General jerks his head back away from the zap. His hand ocmes up to grab her wrist, and she swats his arm away with her free hand.

The guards she bypassed turn, reaching for their guns, but Sanderson is quick to swing one leg up and back, planting her heel in the side of the guard's jaw, sending him up off of his feet and thorugh the open doorway into her cell. She follows the monentum through, leaning away from Rasoul as the General punches forward, breaking into a flurry of movement with quick snaps of cloth from the sleeves of his suit jacket.

The other guard draws his gun, and Sanderson wraps one of her arms around one of his, twists her body at the waist and flips the guard off of his feet, stealing his pistol in the process. She brings the gun up, and Rasoul grabs the top of it with one hand, the other whipping forward to chop at her throat. Sanderson staggers back, and Rasoul disassembles her gun with a quick motion of his hands, taking the slide off the top and ejecting the clip.

Before the gun hits the ground, he hops from one foot to the other and delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of Sanderson's head, sending the marine down to the ground and on her back. The Vanguard leader snaps his hands to ready, fingers curling into fists, waiting for her to get up.

Sanderson only lets out a pained groan, arching her back and dabbing fingertips to the blood at the side of her head. "Get up…" The order is for the guards, who are pulling themselves to their feet weakly. "Get her up on her feet and take her to the arena, she'll do fine." Dark eyes angle towards Claire's cell, then Candy's for a moment, then back to the guards "and get that lipless idiot out of the Lieutenant's cell and to the Doctor."

Candy shakes her head a little while she reclines in her cell. Her composure cracking for a moment, despite its toughness. Where the hell has she found herself. Her eyes just stare at the back of her cell, as once more she tries to push all that into the metaphorical bonfire in her mind, intent on destroying every last shred of Candace Allard, seeing that as the only she'll be able to survive the place.

Claire's grip slides up the bars slowly and her body leans into the bars as if trying to push through them. The blonde is helpless to assist, stuck watching the whole thing as Sanderson springs into action. When the marine hits the ground, Claire drops down, to be closer to the woman's level, checking her over. A hand reaches out to seek the woman's hand, fingers curling around the other's hand, in compassion and to show that there is some solidarity and she murmurs. "Good try…" Even as she does, her eyes lift to meet Rasoul's. This won't be the last attempt.

Sanderson's grip on Claire's hand is feeble, and the look in the Marine's dark blue eyes is a tired one. She can't keep this up, this strength, this resistance much longer. Her hand is pulled away when the guards come for her, grabbing her by the shoulders to get her sitting up. As Sanderson is lifted by her arms and hauled to her feet by the guards, Rasoul straightens the lapels of his suit jacket and dusts off his cuffs. "I'm sorry the two of you had to see that…" He cracks a smile, "somewhat. While barbarism has it's place, it's not often I get to show off my elegance in it. Holden and Daiyu would be green with envy if they could see how I've come along." Quirking his head to the side, Rasoul comes to stand between Candy and Claire's cells, looking back and forth at them.

"Miss Bennet, is it?" How does Rasoul know her name? "I'd like to invite you and miss Allard to breakfast, get yourselves some proper clothing, cleaned up…" A wave is afforded to the prison walls. "I made the offer to miss Allard personally yesterday, but she didn't seem interested. I'm willing to extend my kindness to you both a second time, but this is your last chance to pull yourselves out of this particular… predicament for a time." Reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck, Rasoul lets his dark eyes settle on Claire with a feigned smile. "I wouldn't want people to think I don't at least offer my prisoners of war the courtesies they deserve."

Candy turns to looks at Rasoul for a couple of moments, before she says in a soft voice, "I want a phone call as well. One phone call, for ten minutes, please?" She looks at the man, and the stoic facade that was there the previous day has cracked slightly, and he can no doubt see the how much she wants this phone call. To be able to tell her loved on in New York that no, she probably isn't going to be coming back.

Watching for a long moment, Claire ignores Rasoul, until she has no choice but to acknowledge him. Hauling herself up again, the regenerator eyes the man warily, through lanky locks. Her voice is soft, slightly graveled as her eyes roll up to meet his, her opinion of him plain on her face. "What… and deprive your pet Doctor his favorite toy?" Her voice sounds a bit tired, but only of the whole damn situation really, her head leans forward to rest her forehead against the bars. "Why should I go with you? Clean clothes?" She gives a humorless chuckle, her head tilting against the bars. "Oh how far we have fallen…. " Her dead tilts down, hair sliding along the bars as her head is still pressed there. A thought occurs to her. "Fine." She agrees softly with a sigh, she's no use to anyone in a dark hole.

Watching for a long moment, Claire ignores Rasoul, until she has no choice but to acknowledge him. Hauling herself up again, the regenerator eyes the man warily, through lanky locks. Her voice is soft, slightly graveled as her eyes roll up to meet his, her opinion of him plain on her face. "What… and deprive your pet Doctor his favorite toy?" Her voice sounds a bit tired, but only of the whole damn situation really, her head leans forward to rest her forehead against the bars. "Why should I go with you? Clean clothes?" She gives a humorless chuckle, her head tilting against the bars. "Oh how far we have fallen…. " Her dead tilts down, hair sliding along the bars as her head is still pressed there. A thought occurs to her. "Fine." She agrees softly with a sigh, she's no use to anyone in a dark hole.

"There are not outside lines to communicate with the rest of the world, Miss Allard, not here. Well— not many." Rasoul quirks one brow up as he tucks his hands into his pockets and makes his way to the barred doors of her cell. "Besides, it doesn't matter. You— what— want to talk to someone on the outside, obviously not your team, seeing as how you're the only survivors of it." He offers a mild smile, turning dark eyes over to Claire's cell. "Nothing outside of this city is going to survive what's coming in the next few weeks…" His brows lower, "Didn't your American Government tell you that? Didn't they know isn't that why you're here?"

Rasoul cracks a smile and shakes his head, rubbing one hand over his forehead. "You are better off letting whoever it is you want to call forget you, because in just a few weeks I imagine most of this world will be gone, and I will be left in charge to re-shape the ruins." A confident smile crosses Rasoul's lips. "We could talk about this, a little more… over breakfast. Unless you'd rather stay for the fights?"

Candy looks sharply over at Claire, hoping that the woman doesn't try to bluster around that the rest of their team is alive. Her eyes turn back towards Rasoul, and she says, "Fine… just let me out of here, please? Alright?" She looks at him, stone-faced, defiant to not let him see the terror that runs through her at that. Taking a deep breath while she sits in her dank and dark little cell.

Letting her hands slowly drop away from the bars, Claire takes a few steps back from the cell door so that it can be unlocked. "I think I'll pass on the show, if it's alright. I'd rather hear more about what is coming personally." That is why they are here after all… she may not get away, but she still feels she should learn what she can. Finally, she reaches up to delicately move oily hair out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. "I've seen prophesies and paintings of what could happen.. but you know how vague those can be."

"Prophets," Rasoul says with a bitter tone of voice, "are a joke." There's a wave of his hand to the guards as he turns his back on their cells. "Get them out of their cells and cleaned up, then have them taken to the Red Room. Try not to be too rough with them." As Rasoul turns to leave, the guards head towards Candy and Claire's cells, unlcoking them and giving them the consideration of scrutinizing security forces, holstered guns always with a hand at the ready nearby. The worst thing about this imprisonment, at least for Candy, has so far been being unable to feel her ability within her. Something is terribly wrong here.

When they are taken from their cells, Rasoul is long since gone out of the cell block,a nd it's only now that the pair are able to see the true size of the facility they are kept in. Led out from their cell block, they are brought through the laboratory that Claire was being restrained in the other day, vacated of its doctor for the time being. Candy can see the jars of organs, severed limbs and bloody examination tables, as well as body lockers; the kind that would be found in a morgue.

From here, they are escorted to very spartan shared showers, open tile rooms with four foot high dividers and multiple shower heads, given ten minutes to wash themselves clean before being afforded simply charcoal gray jumpsuits with zippered fronts. From the showers, Claire and Candy are brought thorugh a long concrete hall that empties out onto a balcony overlooking a hangar bay of some kind. Rows of tanks are lined up three floors below in the bay near vehicle elevators designed to bring them up to the surface — how far underground they must be.

This walkway leads to a set of stairs that ascend to an observation floor lined with tinted glass windows that view the hangar, as well as carpeted floors and wood-paneled walls. Thorugh this hall, they are escorted to a red-painted wooden door that opens into a lavishly decorated dining hall. Antique furniture is abound here; a darkly stained wrought oak table with clar foot legs, high-backed chairs with red velvet cushions, actual silver flatware and China plates. Candelabras are set three by three on the long table, and crushed red velvet cutrains hang on the walls to give texture to the dining hall; light is provided by tall long-neck lamps in the corners of the room.

Seated at the head of the table, Rasoul is slow to stand when Claire and Candy arrive, and his expression is unbecoming when he sees what they are dressed in. "I told you to get them proper clothing! Not— dress them up like janitors!" Anger builds over Rasoul's features as he berates the guard, taking a step forward towards the pair, lips pressed into a thin line. "I— I apologize. He looks to the guard, squinting, then motions to Candy. "Take her first, take her to get proper lady's clothing. I will entertain miss Bennet in the interim."

Nodding curtly, the guard rests a hand on Candy's shoulder, and leads her out of the dining hall quietly.

Amazing what clean hair will do for a person. Even though she's a prisoner in a foreign country, Claire feels much better and her mood lightened some. She's been certain to watch her surroundings, with eyes that seem dull and defeated, everything important noted. When they are escorted into the room in the end, Claire's eyes are drawn to the windows and the scenery outside. "Impressive defenses." She offers as Candy is escorted out of the room, glancing back at Rasoul, but she doesn't move from where she is until he motions to her to sit.

"These are reserves…" Rasoul notes quietly, noticing Claire's hesitation before directing her to sit at a spot near the head of the table, for conversational ease. "Please, food will be served once you and Candace have both had time to clean up and dress more properly." Folding his hands on the table, Rasoul leans back with his hands folded in front of himself, head quirked to the side. "Surely you've noticed by now, the situation you're in. You are a prisoner in what will be one of the last bastions of humanity on the face of the earth. You're… one of them, which naturally means you're only going to live as long as your usefulness to the Doctor persists."

It's all rather matter-of-fact with Rasoul. "It's funny, though, I don't think I would have been as fortunate with this uprising were it not for your government's help. One dark brow rises slowly at that accusation, and Rasoul begins to regard his nails quietly. "The people you were with, your team?" Rasoul arches a brow. "They're dead, and if any of them did manage to survive the scourging of that pit of a town, they'll be dead not before long. You see, I run this country, and nothing happens here without my knowledge." Leaning forward, Rasoul narrows his eyes to Claire.

"I'm treating you like a human because, in truth, everyone deserves some measure of dignity provided that they comply. The people of this dirt-eating nation know nothing of grace in submission, and so they were forced to learn. You— Miss Allard— your Lieutenant… I'm trying to see if you can have a place in the new world to come."

"Impressive…" And Claire means it when she looks out at the 'reserves', while moving to pull out a chair and slide into it. Hands rest on her legs and she studies the man, thoughtfully. "I think it was pretty clear my situation when I woke up on that table." Her voice continues to be neutral, she has no doubt her usefulness will continues for many many years to come.

Her head turns away and her eyes cast down to stare at the table when he talks about the team, hands slowly curl into fists. She knows better… Gabriel is not an easy man to kill. As much as she dislikes the man, she knows that he life is in his hands and all those that might have survived. "So just me, Candy and Sanderson?" She says it softly… how were they going to get out? She was never good at this planning stuff. "What do we have to do to prove ourselves for a place in this new world order?"

"There's a man from the first team your people sent here, but he's scheduled to fight for the amusement of my men today so— " Rasoul offers a dispassionate shrug. "You needn't be so falsely eager, no one in their right mind wants to have this happen, and I sincerely doubt you have had enough coping time to come to terms with this situation. After all, everything and everyone you know and love will soon be dead. That has to rest a bit heavily on your conscience, I would hope."

Leaning forward, Rasoul rests his chin on his hands. "But, it is a question I can answer, even if youw on't much appreciate it." Letting his eyes drift down to the table, Rasoul asks quietly. "Tell me what you know about the Vanguard, we can start there I imagne."

"What do I know? Next to nothing." And that's the truth really, "I just know the important things. Vangaurd plan to use a nuke they have tucked away somewhere." Claire's brows lift a little as she adds. "Is there anything else important to know beyond that little fact? I think that pretty much trumps anything else." Those browns then dip down. "I personally think that's bad enough… though I have to admit, the nasty negating gas was a rather nasty surprise."

Claire forces her hands to relax on her legs, trying to not think about her family outside the walls of this fortress. About all the people she'll lose, if the Vanguard succeed.

"A nuke?" Rasoul quirks his head to the side, watching Claire curiously. "Is that how it's going to happen?" There's something of a bitter laugh. "While you could say one nuclear explosion has already changed the world, my dear, it would be very difficult to destroy what all man has made with a simple explosion. But, admittedly, I profess no understanding of what the true agenda is. All I know is that Lord Volken died, and with him all hope of a peaceful solution to the blight your kind represents on this earth." There's a strange sadness in the way Rasoul speaks down about Claire to her face, even if it seems almost like feigned politeness.

"This place was designed to survive the final solution, Kazimir's grand design for the end times. Only the man who is the executor of his last will and testament knows anything, truly…" One shoulder rolls slowly, and Rasoul looks over to his empty glass, eyes distant. Then, puzzled, Rasoul looks back up to Claire. "The gas was a surprise?"

Leaning back in his chair again, Rasoul's hands fold in his lap. "Your government is the ones who supplied us with the formula for the negation drug, my dear. Admittedly in an injection vector, but Doctor Gregor has done leaps and bounds in its redevelopment. Apparently your American scientists devised a faulty serum that would not work on people with your— ah— ability." There's a quirk of Rasoul's brows.

"Your country offered to make arrangements with this nation in exchange for out-sourcing biological weapons developments so as to not be in direct violation of certain treaties against their development." A smile crosses Rasoul's face. "We had no intention of sharing our developments with them, of course."

There is a look at of confusion on the younge blond face, "Final solution? And yes it was. I knew about the shot, but they didn't have it in aerosol form." Claire lets her gaze drop her her lap, hands folding there, one thumb rubbing slowly over the other.

"Refrain…" Claire offers the name of the drug. "Glows blue.. makes most evolved experience old memories like it was happening all over again." Her eyes lift to the man and tilts her head a bit, "Though I never tried it myself, so I wouldn't know if it did work on me. Wasn't interested." She has enough bad memories she'd rather not revisit in such vivid ways. She's quiet for a moment before she asks again…

"What is Volken's final solution?"

"Refrain?" Rasoul purses his lips and rubs his chin slowly. "I'm not sure of the name, but I do recognize the description of the blue glow. Yes, that was part of the chemical compound we used to develop the new toxin. However it wasn't the base, your government has some very interesting things in the works, it would seem, Gregor has simply spoken very highly of whoever distilled the injection's venom." Licking at his lips at Claire's other question, Rasoul breathes in deeply then exhales a slow sigh.

"The final solution is the end of the world and the beginning of another." He speaks in the way someone would of a book of the bible, talking of revelations. "I don't rightly know how it will work, only that the reason this place was chosen was because of it's relatively high elevation, so…" He smirks, "I can only imagine that it has to do with what Lord Volken spoke of so often— the biblical flood." There's a turn of Rasoul's brown eyes towards the entrance, impatiently, then back to Claire. "Do you know the story? Of how God commanded Noah to build an Ark to act as a savior for humanity as he cleansed the world of sin? The Vanguard's deceased leader thought in such biblical strokes. Now, with my having taken over…" A proud smile crosses his face, "I await the arrival of the new world, and begin a flood of my own here to thin the herd as it were."

Blue eyes narrow at his words, but not surprised by it, so Claire doesn't push to asked what he means by that, letting him ramble on about biblical stuff. "So you and the Vanguard are going to play God…. and this." Her eyes trail over her surroundings, "Is an ark?" She lets him hear how twisted she thinks it is in her voice.

She leans forward over the table a little, her voice dropping to a whisper, "Your twisted.. and insane, if you really think it'll work." She lets a small smile play on her lips, her head tilting a bit. "Someone will stop it." She's confident in this. The blonde might not live to see it, but she feels that it'll happen.

"No, Kazimir Volken plays the role of God in this, and I guess Wagner is Noah." Rasoul shrugs both of his shoulders helplessly, both hands lifting into the air as he does. "We are merely the residents of this particular ark, Muspelheim." Dark brows furrow together, and Rasoul looks aside, staring down at the floor. "You may think me twisted, this whole idea insane, and in truth you may be right. What we are doing is horrible and history would have reviled us, had the record of man's history not been on the precipice of destruction." Dark eyes alight to Claire againm intently.

"The world is falling apart at the seams, countries are at war over the very blood that flows in the veins of its citizens. Your country is doing far worse things, far more crully deceptive things than I ever have. My people know where I stand, and for what I make these sacrifices for. When the flood comes, all the world's sin will be washed away and we will be the better for it."

Rasoul looks down to his folded hands, quiet for a time. "You are the ones who were sent to stop this, yes? All these group scattered about the world?" How does he know all this? "You've failed. You're here— with me." When he looks up, there's something of a weary smile on his face. "No one will stop it, because the people who are strong enough to cannot and should not. Do you really want to keep living in this world? A world that does not want you in it?" Rasoul's head shakes slowly. "When the end comes, and mankind rebuilds, it will be different."

Claire's brows slowly dip into a frown, "How did you know about all the…..?" Her chin lift a bit as she answers her own question. Of course, the answer is so simple. Someone feeding the information to them. Eyes narrow as she conciders him, a condescending smile curling up the corners of her lips, "This team might of failed, General, but that doesn't mean the others will." His title, sounds more like a dirty word, with how she uses it.

"And… well.. this world might not be all that great, but from what I've seen since I landed in this country…" a finger tip presses against the polished surface of the table, the nail having been snapped off long ago. "… this is not my idea of the perfect world."

"Perfection takes time." Rasoul states with a wave of one hand slowly thorugh the air, "even a beautiful statue looks like a rough piece of rock. Do you think your country was founded without genocide? Exactly how much say do your natives have in the way your ocuntry is run today? I heard that they were all rounded up and put into camps too. Progress requires sacrifice, miss Bennet." Rasoul stops inspecting his nails and looks to the door again with a squint. "What in God's name is taking them so long the hollindaise sauce is going to get cold." Clutching the arms of his chair, Rasoul draws in slow breath through his nostrils, straightens his posture and crosses one leg over the other.

When he turns to look back at Claire, it's only in recognition that he hadn't answered one of her questions. "Oh that," he admits with a shrug. "When we were first invaded by your forces, we captured the team you had sent in. Most of them were tortured for information, but one was…" Rasoul cracks a smile, "he was given very special treatment that both you and Miss Allard have undergone. He served as my eyes and ears, and… thanks to his miraculous escape from our clutches, no one is any bit the wiser that he is an unwitting spy."

The first person that comes to mind and really the only one she is aware of.. "Danko?" Claires eyes narrow dangerously at the thought of that slimly toad of a man being a spy for this man. That's all she can really handle… "You know what…." Claire starts softly, her expression full of disgust. Her hands grip the edge of the table and she pushes it back to stand. "…. I think I'd like to go back to my cell now, General." She glances at the doorway for sign of her companion. "I appreciate the clothing and the shower… but I think I lost my appetite… So if it's all the same, I think I'll skip breakfast."

A long and silent stare is afforded to Claire, and Rasoul leans forward to rest his chin on the palm of his hand. "Always disquieted by talks to current events…" he muses with a frustrated tone of voice, then waves one hand towards the door to the dining hall. "Yes, fine, I suppose it would've gone this way anyway. Perhaps miss Allard will be more receptive." Dark eyes alight to Claire and Rasoul looks off-put as he leans back, folding his arms across his chest.

"Go," he waves one hand towards the door, "one of the men will escort you to the Doctor, he wanted to see you at any rate. I guess I'll just…" he squints, eyeing the table, "go cook away my frustrations." The last bit comes as a murmur as he pushes up from his chair, turning to look at Claire again. "Oh and, by the way… Since you won't be joining me in the palace, you'll find yourself occupied with other avenues of entertainment."

A smile creeps up on his lips, "Entertaining my soldiers in the arena."

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