AWD #341: Six to Twelve
Six to Twelve
Summary: The Twelve in the Brig made a demand to meet Knox. It doesn't go to his plan.
Date: 28/5/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Twelve Reasons
Elias Skyler Dropkickst 
Der Brig
The battlestar's brig is comprised of a line of four individual cells organized in separate walled-off bays. Each cell is six feet wide by eight feet long and possesses a bed and toilet. Whenever even one cell is occupied, so too is the metal desk and chair at the entrance hatch — and backup for the guard is never far away. Brig rules are posted behind the desk on a white panel with blocked black lettering.
AWD #341

Shortly after the impasse caused by their last interview attempt, Elias returns to the brig to speak to the Twelve again. He looks much the same as earlier, save for the lit cigarette he has already propped between his lips, and his distinct lack of clipboard. After the hatch closes behind him, the Major steps forward and addresses the man behind the cell bars. "I have someone here to speak with you," he doesn't bother greeting the Twelve or waiting in hopes that the skinjob will respond. Someone is taking the Twelve's earlier declaration quite literally. "It is not Sergeant Knox. I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment. But I'll leave that for him to explain, if you speak with him." If, not when. No assumption made there either. There's a long drag off his smoke, then a slow exhale before Elias continues. "As for our last conversation, I believe we've both … miscalculated one another. Unfortunate, but illuminating." He turns and gestures towards the surveillance camera, and soon thereafter the hatch cracks open. Four taser-armed armed Marines in full combat armor enter, splitting to line the walls on either side of the brig. After them comes the Six brought up from Picon, in a single set of restraints and with two more taser-toting Marines escorting him. And last but not least, the other members of the CIC team in attendance.

Yes, Skyler has returned. Of course she has. She wouldn't sit this out. The woman keeps coming to 'work' every day powered by sheer curiosity. She made a good Raptor pilot, despite herself. Just reckless enough. Curious to a fault. Intelligent enough. But she's still got a fair ways to go as an intel officer. The emotions get in the way. The desire to push the red button just to see what happens, rather than keep hunting for the manual. So she's there, notepad in hand. The woman is frowning, as she regards the Twelve in the cell. It's not a frown of a studying scientist, nor one of disapproval. It's a regretful sort of frown. The frown one gives when they're viewing a missed opportunity. Ultimately, however, Lieutenant, JG Almaeda is content to remain back by the door, with plenty of marines between herself and the two skinjobs.

The Twelve has been parked on the bunk since the night before. He even slept in the same position. True to his word, the skinjob has said nothing to anyone. Even when he is brought his meals, there has only been a small nod to the Marines. However, at seeing the brig fill up, he lofts a brow and seems a bit surprised. There’s a glance to the CCTV camera in the corner. The guy takes his time rising off the bunk and then leans back, stretching and giving a soft grunt with it before moving forward. Much like the night before he moves to lean against the bars that divide the cells but does not approach the doors. His casual nature could be a front but he seems to be out of fraks to give. Arms cross and he looks directly at Skyler for a long second before his eyes go to the others. But the next figure through the door gets a low smile.

A model Six enters through the hatch after everyone is in position. He’s wearing a mottled green camouflage uniform that looks to be standard issue for the Caprican Defense Forces, the colony’s own small army – now defunct. He isn’t wearing handcuffs or anything, but the Six clearly doesn’t look too comfortable with this. Stepping inside, he glances over to Elias, then looks directly to the Twelve. “You are definitely not a line I was expecting to see standing in this brig.” He chuckles. “Though now that I am looking at you here, I guess it makes sense.”

The Twelve smirks, nodding. “Doesn’t it? It is good to see you, brother.” He makes no move to approach the bars, though. But as the seconds tick by, the Twelve studies the Six more and more. A finger is stretched from his crossed arms, waggling slightly. “You- you are not Cooper Knox.” There’s some mild amusement to his tone. “And that is definitely a fascinating discovery. Knowing the honorable Sixes, that means that he’s infected the line. My, my. He certainly has launched a nuclear weapon. I would be willing to trade a lot of information to know where Cooper is and what he’s doing.” There’s a winked glance at Elias. “Just kidding.”

This makes the Six look even more uncomfortable. He glances to Elias and anyone else viewing through the cameras can tell the Six really doesn’t like the Twelve knowing this information. Or making any kind of inferences about his behavior.

“Relax, Six. I’m not here to render judgment on you or your line. As far as I am concerned, most of this is something of an eye-opening trip. I’ve made sacrifices to come here, performed a few betrayals. I even, regrettably, am involved in the destruction of two ships. I’m sure Mister Knox’s urges inside have some rather conflicted emotions about this. Believe me when I tell you that I am not here for violence and if you can confirm what we think we already know, then we have no cause to speak to One about you. You may hold me at my word for that. Twelve to Six.” The Twelve looks directly at the Six while he speaks.

There does seem to be something of an understanding between the two. The lines clearly have history, but how could they not? The Six seems to get it and starts to relax a little more. Anyone who has ever met Knox can see some hints to his mannerisms. He moves to the desk and tugs at the legs of his pants once before he takes a half-seat on the front edge, one leg bent and the other hanging more straight. The more ‘messy’ ATACS camo pattern seems to suit him better than the traditional Marine mottle and digital. “Alright, Twelve. You’ve got my attention and that of the fleet. What is it that you want to know from Cooper?” This Six looks far more serious than Sergeant Knox ever was – except in a gunfight.

“I want to know what caused him to abandon his mission before the war even started. Every single model knows he was the one writing those letters. He’s the reason that Task Force Blackjack is even functional. Now as amusing as that is to see One so frustrated by that fact, it also speaks volumes and is a direct violation of his orders and an act of treason against his people. We have no idea what was in the notes but there was clearly enough passion and information to bring two old dreadnaughts out of mothballs. Tell me why.” The Twelve doesn’t seem like he’s the sort that is used to having his questions go unanswered.

“I assume you’re here as a Twelve, not an individual. Correct?” The Six asks before saying anything else.

“Yes.” There’s a certain finality to it and the sense that Cooper is on trial for something else.

“I’m not going to waste my motherfrakking time explaining it to you, then. You want to lapdog to what you believe in with this whole nonsense of a ‘line’, Twelve, then nothing I say about Cooper or his actions will ever persuade you of anything. Render your judgments and piss off.” The Six looks the Twelve directly in the eye as he says it.

“That’s a dangerous response, Six. Are you sure you want to go down that path? Are you sure you want to throw in your whole lot with humanity and let me decide based on a response like that?” The Twelve does not sound amused.

“Yeah.” The Six doesn’t even waste a beat before he replies to the question. He stands off the desk and walks right up to the bars. “Damned sure. You think you know who we are and frankly that’s frakkin cute at this point. You can sit there looking like some smarmy little shit who sits in a position of authority and renders his judgments, but you are forgetting one thing: We’re not a line anymore, asshole. Cooper is Cooper. The rest of us are rapidly becoming our own people. So you can go ahead and try and judge us as Sixes but you get one thing straight, dickhead: We might be what we are, but we will not be judged as a group for the actions of one.” He stabs a finger through the bars towards the Twelve. “That’s the same frakked thinking that has this war perpetuated. And if you’re here rendering judgments then I’m pretty godsdamned sure that you’re also questioning that.”

It’s the Twelve’s turn to look disquieted by this whole turn of the conversation. He was clearly not expecting this. He doesn’t say anything, he just stares back at the Six, tense.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’ll never understand why Coop did what he did because you’re here for your line. You’re just a Twelve. That’s all you’ll ever be unless you actually step out of line and do something that goes against the grain. There’s a reason that you’re in a cell and I’m standing out here. There’s a reason Coop ain’t here. You want a reason why Coop gave the middle finger to the Cylons?” The Six snorts. “It’s so that Honor can stand here on this side of the bars and render his judgment on the Twelve and know, without a doubt, that he’s on the right side of the fight. How’s it feel to know that for a Twelve?”

That’s what seems to get the Twelve to twitch uncomfortably a few times. He tries to look away and finds himself almost unable to. He suddenly pushes off the bars and stalks back to the bed and sits down heavily on the edge. The skinjob is seething by this point and looks like he wants to break something. It’s clearly the most emotional reaction that he’s had since coming aboard. So the Twelves can be shaken up. It’s hard to tell which part of the whole attack disturbed him the most, though. Certainly the last struck him like a slap, though. “You certainly have grown,” he mutters. Is there frustration there.

“Sure as hell have.” The Six stands there, one arm threaded through the bars and hanging there. It was one heated and fast turn of the tables. He stares at the Twelve with his own unique brand of hatred, like wanting to drag a blood brother into the back yard and use a roll of quarters to punch some sense into him. “You want to know the moment he decided he was done and needed to fight for humanity?” He upturns the hand and uses it to gesture the Twelve over. “I’ll show you.”

The Twelve looks up, still angry. His jaw is set and there’s a grim line to his lips. But the offer made seems to be one that he finds himself unable to resist. The Twelve stands off the bunk and takes a few slow steps towards the bars. As he does, the Marines in the room look more tense and two of them lift tazers. The Twelve does lift his hand towards the Six, offering it as if looking to shake hands.

The Six only glances to the Marines before looking back to the jailed skinjob. “Remember who you are and where you came from. What you represent. See this and feel it and ask yourself if you can really support One and his motives.” At least the words seem less heated. He reaches out and takes the hand in a shake, staring right at the Twelve.

Seconds pass. Five. Seven. Ten.

Suddenly the Twelve breaks the clasp of hands and takes three steps back, staring at the Six with wide eyes. There’s terror and wonderment there, an interesting combination on any face. The grim line on his face breaks and bobs open and closed a couple times before he looks to Skyler, then Elias, then back to the Six. “That was more than one moment,” he says quietly.

The Six drops the hand easily and stares back at the Twelve with a cold gaze. “Context is important. So is what came next and after the war started. Jus ad bellum, Twelve. I have it. You,” the finger stabs again, “do not. You let that simmer in your head. You’re not pious, shitbird. You’re not perfect. We are the sum total of who we were and what’s come after. These people have done nothing to us and you know it. I’d suggest you get on board with the right fight and stop thinking you’ve somehow got a right to pass judgment on people you know all too much about and seem to just ignore that memory of.” His voice goes lower and quieter. “One day there will be a reckoning, pal, and it won’t be by you. Message ends.” Some of the anger and heat had clearly returned, but he seems done. The Six steps back from the bars and moves to go, leaving the Twelve and the brig behind.

The Twelve looks down in the end. He leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands hanging limp in front. There’s very clearly a lot on his mind. There’s only a subtle glance to the Six on his departure, but otherwise no movement. The anger and frustration simmers and permeates his whole being once again, fear tainting each breath.

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