Avalon couldn't have asked for a better introduction.

Her methodical steps allowed for the sound of her boots to resonate throughout the dilapidated interrogation room. Earnestly, there were betters rooms, ones that were lavish and outfitted with fresh new chains and bonds. Nevertheless, the Warden never shied away from the effects that the older, messier rooms had, especially the acoustics. She remained silent, letting for each increase in volume to settle on the terrorist. As taught by her old superior, the former Warden, Avalon knew that an interrogation started before words were spoken. Presence had a heavy bearing on a subject's will. Styliani had the ability to be absolutely terrifying, given her rank and power, but there was a charm to allowing the monster that haunted the Trench to handle this part of the job.

Amidst the shadows cast upon her young features, only red optics made themselves visible to the prisoner. A bead of sweat trickled down his face as Avalon settled into the room. To his credit, he remained steadfast, averting his eyes not out of fear but defiance. He wasn't going to be persuaded by just dainty words and Avalon's inevitable arrival. He didn't emit any words or noise, keeping to his silence as Avalon reached into her coat pocket. In there were a pair of dark red gloves, which she put on just as methodically as her entrance. Still, there were no words spared between anyone in the room. The sound of the leather stretching and her fist clenching greeted the prisoner as the foreboding statement it was meant to be.

Avalon walked over and squatted down next to the prisoner. She investigated her wounds, seeing that the guards did some personal damage to the man. He did attack an Arbiter, which in this time, were one of the most beloved people in the world. It brought some joy to Avalon's heart but not a smile to her face. It was expected for the man to come in with wounds aplenty. Avalon looked down at his hand, seeing it clenched with the frustration at his situation. She took his hand into hers, uncoiling a finger. She hesitated as she analyzed the hand that tried to attack an Arbiter. They were no injuries on it shockingly. 

It was a simple technique developed from basic anatomical research.

Take the metacarpophalangeal in between the middle and ring fingers. 

The prisoner had a curious expression come across his face.

Place the thumb under the fingertip. Apply to torque with the thumb while putting weight around MCP. 

With Avalon's strength, it was easy to break and the effect was astounding. The prisoner didn't let out a scream. He bit his lip hard enough to bite through it. He didn't show weakness, instead, he gave Avalon a sign of his resolve. For a lowlife like him, it could have been considered admirable. Yet, for his crimes and his existence, Avalon found it disgusting. She stood up while the prisoner had to bear the pain of a separated bone. 

She sneered, "don't try to steal honor after you've attempted on someone's life. It's infuriating."

"You have two more chances to give us the locations of your allies. It's your only way out of this situation," Avalon explained briskly while stepping to Arbiter Styliani's side, "you do best to answer our merciful Arbiter. She could have done far worse than I in a mere second."

---

Styliani Marinou

Avalon couldn't possibly dream of being someone worthy of Arbiter Marinou's affections. She did her best to hide the blush dawning on her face. Luckily, the lighting fixture and the shadow cast by her hat did their part in aiding her. She had a job to do, no point in fraternizing with the concept of romancing such an esteemed lady. Styliani made her move forward. In the infancy of her promotion, Avalon only heard words of how Styliani operated in these scenarios. Each of the Arbiters had their way of dealing with enemies, both dipped in a sinister, maternal tone. One day, Avalon might mirror such a thing, but now she allowed her natural instincts to push her actions. Her aunt would be proud of her efforts here.

Styliani's praise was more than enough, though. The damage done to the prisoner was more than Avalon could handle, but she found a way to withhold any vocalization of excitement. Blood dripped from an open wound, the product of Styliani's strength breaking the skin and possibly bone. Under direction, Avalon made her way over to the other side of the resilient prisoner and grabbed the back of his seat. He looked up at Avalon, the fire of rebellion still flaring brighter than the sun.

"Are you going to listen to your master?" he sneered, "be an obedient hound?"

Avalon's eyes widened, much to the delight of Damien. "Yeah, that's right," he continued, "all you are just a tool of the Arbiters, one that can laugh it off, but I see right through you."

"Who says I was going to follow her orders?" Avalon replied abruptly, stopping any attempt at a monologue from the man. Instead, all of that was cut short with a feat of strength. Lifting Damien by the throat, Avalon sent him into the hard, unforgiving ground, shattering the chair upon impact. "I don't like her being merciful to scum like you."

Damien couldn't begin to collect any thoughts, let alone any sharp quips. Avalon made sure to halt any of that with the swift removal of his intact hand. She placed her blade back into its home before Damien could fully register the action. All he knew was that his hand was on the other side of the room and blood began to well at the nub. Avalon turned him onto his stomach while the pain began to come to his senses. A bloodcurdling scream ripped out of Damien's vocal cords, giving any nearby the exact picture of what was transpiring.

Avalon ripped open the back of his shirt, spotting the many tattoos there. He was affiliated with a small time gang located in Hargeon. There was no plausible reason for them to attack an Arbiter unless finance was involved. The question that came to Avalon's mind must have already been one that Arbiter Marinou thought of. There must have been some outside play that would bring a group of people to act outside their nature.

The Warden clicked her tongue and retrieved Damien's dearly departed hand.

"I believe in progressive punishments. Each time a criminal does something, I add another level of severity to their punishment. Right now, you're being truly dishonest and uncooperative. That's clear insubordination," Avalon has to use that word more than she likes. She produced a small booklet from her coat pocket and squatted next to the prisoner.

He wasn't crying yet, Avalon saw. In response, she smiled gently, almost impressed at his gutsy performance. "In this book alone, I've come up with 500 different ways to punish someone. There is a section dedicated strictly to interrogations, categorized by what crime they committed. Ergo, I know what exact act I will do next to you."

"There's a lot that can be healed, Damien," she said, standing up, "but there are some wounds that doctors do not enjoy healing."

---

Styliani Marinou

Normally, Avalon's face would be as red as her eyes upon seeing Arbiter Marinou's reaction. Avalon couldn't really tell if she was enamored with her presence for violence or finding other pleasures from viewing the brutality. Nevertheless, there was something that could override the obsessive traits that Avalon had. It was her need to chase after justice and deliver it upon the wretched. The Trench was her world, one where she made the rules without anyone interfering. She didn't care of the words spread around by anyone who came to visit. Prisoners screamed for Avalon's arrest for her crimes against humanity. Many had a point until they looked at the records provided by the Council. Those who suffered Avalon's wrath desired every moment of it. Every roar of pain ripped from the lungs of the wicked had a reason behind it. 

Even amidst the blood spilling against the walls, replacing stains that had long since dried, Avalon knew the purpose. Some would call Styliani's actions simply vengeful, if not abhorrent. Avalon would call them just. Watching Styliani brand Damien in the exact way she described filled Avalon with a latent joy, but she didn't express with a smile. She watched diligently, lowering the brim of her hat to shroud her eyes. Damien was screaming all the while, the classic harmony that the Warden had grown so used to. If the source was someone so unique, she would find it boring. Really, Damien should silence himself; it was disrespectful to Styliani's handiwork. The Arbiter seemed pleased with her efforts, but that all changed. 

And so did Avalon's neutrality. 

The ends of her mouth began to tug slightly as the first kick caught Damien straight in the windpipe. The sound of the throat being cut from its usual actions was something to behold. Hearing how Damien tried to force air back in, despite the strength of Styliani's kick rendering any efforts futile. Styliani roared in berserk anger, orchestrated by her appreciation for Avalon and the scenario at hand. 

My Warden. Avalon's mouth was now a smile, a tiny one. A hint of red lingered in the shadow cast by her hat. Damien was barely hanging on, but his body was well beyond its limits. His mind had to follow. Avalon took note of the convulsions, the way that his trousers changed in color, and the tears escaping to the floor. It took Styliani nearly shoving her arm through the other side of his body for him to finally confess about a co-conspirator. Avalon tilted her head, temporarily saddened by the fact that she couldn't watch the lovely Arbiter quite literally tear the secrets out of the prisoner. 

Avalon lifted her hat, allowing both Styliani and Damien to see the smile that had progressed in madness. She let out a cackle while she pressed her foot onto Damien's chest. His eyes were now flooding with grief. His mind had finally came to the conclusion that his blunder led not only to his capture but to his current situation. He was once a man, but now he was a toy. He was one that was winded up and he spoke the words that the two Council members needed to hear. 

"I'll search the archives. Perhaps this Rowan was arrested once in the past. Criminal filth tend to slip up more than once," Avalon explained as she straddled Damien. Her full weight kept his arms against the ground, despite the fact that he tried to break them to get a chance to escape. 

"You can't be serious," he was barely able to speak from the physical and mental trauma he had suffered. Avalon didn't hear words; she heard mewling. She didn't hear a reluctant plea for a final mercy; she saw a chance to keep his mouth open. Avalon clenched Damien's cheek before she began to methodically insert his hand into his mouth. 

Finger by finger, knuckle by knuckle, she crammed it down his mouth. He gagged, forcing biology to mix in his misery--both kinds of tears merging into a solitary river. He sharply coughed, slowly unsure of what his body could do. Avalon stood over Damien, unhinged in her hysterics. Her laughter bounced off the walls as she began to press her full body weight onto the hand, forcing it down his throat. Damien tried to scream past his own flesh. Sadly, it couldn't reach the volume of Avalon's laughter, mostly in part to the fact that his airway wasn't open enough anymore.

"What's the problem?" Avalon started, "some animals eat themselves to survive. This has to be a fantastic meal for you! A feast for a pig! A hors d'oeuvre for the guilty!"

"You."

Stomp.

"Should."

Stomp.

"Feel."

Stomp.

"Lucky!"

Many doctors state that asphyxiation is one of the worst ways to perish. Damien learned this fact over the span of several minutes until his body gave up. A few final convulsions came before his body went entirely limp. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Avalon sighed, seeing that the hand was mostly in minus the end piece of the bone sticking out. As she stared at it, it did manage to get a giggle out of her. Not before long, she turned to Styliani with a shrug.

"Oh well" was all she could offer.

Avalon was no sooner out her sadistic stupor when she realized that Damien had died. The first sensation she felt was Styliani's body against hers, pulling her into a tight hug. Avalon felt elation bubbling underneath the clear shock from an Arbiter of all people showing this kind of affection to the Warden. Arbiter Aster had also shown similar temperaments, but this was different. Avalon's forearm brushed against Styliani's breasts, something that Avalon was both ashamed and afraid to pay attention to.

Her face lit up as brightly as her eyes and she stammered over every word that tried to come out of her. Watching Styliani's mocking performance didn't exactly register on Avalon's mind. Instead, she just had to process the physical touch that they shared. Her innate instincts and memory patterns were pushed into an overdrive. She now had engraved memories of everything that Styliani was. 

Avalon blinked her eyes for a moment, physically accepting what just happened. She had to shake her head to snap back to reality fully. First, she had to suppress some intense feelings. In a way, she had to mirror Styliani, but for vastly different reasons. When she did, Avalon fell back into her usual, professional aura, standing at attention with her arms tucked behind her back. She offered a glance to the corpse in the corner. "Indeed, Arbiter, I'll have some of my best men to get on the matter."

She tapped on her lower lip, "I believe that I've seen this man before. He's a lowly thief that managed to get away before I was brought on as the Warden. A simple failure by lesser guardsmen, I'm afraid," Avalon continued to recall the memory with minor expressions of agitation. 

"Damien Lancaster," she said the name written on the report. "I believe the others were a Rowan Cline and a Marshall Everwood that was also involved in the failed apprehension. I would believe that if we asked some of the people near their dwellings, we could find them before the night is over."

A smile crept onto Avalon's face, one drenched in the desire for blood and obscene justice. 

"There are not only assailants who acted upon your life, my Arbiter," Avalon's grin widened, "they're also traitors and cowards. That's so many offenses that I have no choice but to drag them here for some more fun!" 

---

Styliani Marinou