13893/Digging Up The Past - Confessional

Digging Up The Past - Confessional
Date of Scene:	14 September 2021
Location:	13893 A padded cell somewhere secure...
Synopsis:	Punisher finds Clayton to be less than cooperative.
Cast of Characters:	Punisher, Phantasm (Drago)
Tinyplot:	Digging Up The Past

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Punisher has posed:
With everything else set up, it was time to get Clayton awake and ready for some questions. There were a lot of factors in the air, including whether or not he would live past the hour. The Punisher does not fuck around with his targets, and this one in particular is a rather interesting case.

Sure, he might get good information... but he could also try to goad the Punisher into death. Unlike the enforcement agencies though, the Punisher will be served by information, or by removal of Clayton as a key player in an infiltration. He has absolutely no problem with adding Clayton to his list of punished targets. and Clayton will know this shortly.

Clayton awakens in a barebones padded cell, tied down to a plastic chair by rope. There's a single LED bulb above him in the ceiling, and a padded metallic door.. All of that padding is blue, giving the distinct air of a psychiatry cell.

Installed in a corner is a camera and a speaker combo, for hearing, seeing, and speaking to the prisoner.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
It has been days that Clayton was kept in the dakness. Not awake during the time but as the heavy blanket of nothingness gets drawn off of him and the barely lit blue of the walls before him come to view- Well, Robert Clayton is not expecting a pleasant evening. As far as his last memories of the day are concerned, he should be waking up in his cabin surrounded by security, not sitting upright looking at nothing but wall.

His eyes close again, seemingly looking to be nodding off once more. But the posture isn't quite as relaxed as when he was fully under.

Punisher has posed:
"You don't get to go back to sleep, asshole." Comes a grated voice through thr loudspeaker a few seconds later.

Twenty seconds later, the door opens, and the Punisher in his full outfit comes in and closes it behind himself. His trenchcoat and skull bodysuit leaves no mistake who he is... if the face of Frank Castle wasn't an indication itself.

"We need to talk. Did you honestly think that goin' to some cabin out in the middle of nowhere would keep /me/ from findin' you?" The Punisher asks, mockingly, as he takes in the state of Clayton.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the gravely voice comes over the loudspeaker, there's the slightest bit of noise coming from the nostrils of the Director. It's just the slightest escape of air but compared to screaming out in terror, the reaction is quite subdued. Especially considering the reputation.

As the door opens, the man's jaw tightens as Clayton runs a tongue along his teeth, but soon there's the slightest bit of a frown forming upon his features. The groggy eyes open, looking over to the man standing over him.

Punisher has posed:
*SLAP*

Not enough to seriously hurt him, but more than enough to knock some energy back into his mental state. "Wake Up." The Punisher barks at him.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As Clayton's head ends up slinging to the side with the contact, a bit of a sneer forms upon the lips. The shoulders lift as he takes a deep breath, turning his head slowly back to look to Punisher, eyes narrowed. "Castiglione..."

Punisher has posed:
"Frank Castle is dead. Call me the Punisher." He replies, "You have two options for how this goes. I want information, but with your HYDRA ties, I could see myself settlin' for simply punishing you and leaving you for your colleagues to find after." Punisher tells him, matter of factly, as he starts to walk around the chair.

"First, you cooperate, tellin' me everything I want to know, when I want it. I don't need to break out my interrogation gear, and you get to live as long as you are useful. We get to see if HYDRA likes you, or if you can be cut out from their structure. And if you turn out to be useless to me, I give you a painless death and send you after your minions."

He continues, "The second option: You decide to clam up, not tellin' me anything out of some sort of loyalty to a bunch of lunatics and psychopaths, and we get to see how many weeks it takes for you to get tired of the pain... and you tell me everythin' I want to know anyway, then I give you an extremely painful death and give you to your colleagues as a lesson for why it's a bad idea to hold back with me." He stops in front of the man... his eyes cold as ice; there is no passion to this, Frank gives the very visible impression of being clinical in his explanation, "I have plenty of evidence of you and your cronies being HYDRA, so you don't get to play the innocent card with me. The option where you turn informant to me from bein' an ignorant plant is gone."

"Make your choice."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Clayton listens to to the options being listed. Delayed death, painless death, or painful death. With options like these, no wonder the choice isn't immediate. They're just all so tempting.

"You may say he is but you're still Castliglione. And being you seem to want me to be well, Frank with you... perhaps I should just call you that? Frank?"

Punisher has posed:
it comes without warning, the punch. It's right at his face and with more than enough force to knock Clayton on his ass. Not enough to break his nose, but only barely.

Honestly, it's probably scary how FAST that punch came, and even scarier that with his build, Frank was holding /back/.

"You seem to have the impression you're in control here. You're not. Keep it up, asshole, and we go right for option 2."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Clayton's head rolls back, front two legs of the chair lifting a bit with the force of the punch. Eyes closing as gravity causes for the chair to rest down fully on the floor as Clayton's mouth snaps open. "YOU *********** ************** *** OF A ****!" Clayton's voice roars. Giving a rather detailed account of who, what, and where he feels Punisher does in his spare time in a rather to the point sentence. The word usage also calls into question Frank's lineage.

Even tied to a chair getting punched in the face, it appears that the director is a man of few words. But efficient when he does speak.

The teeth form into a forced smile, one with no actual pleasant emotion backing the play but it's there as he shakes his head. "You are so damn simpleminded..."

Punisher has posed:
"I've been called worse, by far worse than you." Punisher moves to stand over him, looking down with cold, clinical eyes. "People like you fancy yourselves chessmasters, or something akin to that." He explains in a bored tone. "You laugh at the law and you use it to further your agendas, as if people were just tools to be manipulated and broken." He leans down to look at Clayton, a flat expression showing no emotion is kept, "You laugh at the law... but when you get in here, you don't laugh at me."

With that, the Punisher moves over him, positions himself, and starts to beat the ever loving shit out of Clayton's face.

He's not gonna kill Clayton... but he's going to be healing from this for a while. Painfully...

About a minute of 'carefully' applied beating later, the Punisher stands up, puts in a gag to keep the man from doing something stupid to his tongue, rights his chair, walks away, heads for the door and leaves.

Outside, Punisher speaks into his commlink, "I need to check in with the others and let him stew a bit."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA

With the repeated punches and the chair lifting with each of the punches only to hit the floor immediately after, Clayton is subjected to the music of his own beat down. And if a certain drummer Stuck's group has been been terrorizing heard a recording of the sound, well supposing he didn't know the source, he might have to say there was some great rhythm to it.

Clayton has more discerning tastes. He also seems to have a vast library of other terms that would immediately get censored by all forms of decency.

Eventually Clayton goes limp. He continues to flop around as the ropes permit as the chair's righted.

The room is quiet for a few moments before Clayton's head starts to lift, looking around, and then to the chair he's in, seemingly taking stock of the material.

There is a sneer of distaste upon the blooded face.