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(Transcript and visual captions below}

     Vitus had been against the whole thing, but after a round of phone calls, it was said that Sombreta agreed that Jack must be questioned for the good of the Circle. Vitus tried to argue that he should be the one to take Jack to the Dragomir estate, but again, word was that Vitus was too kindly and would probably coach the boy, so his testimony would be unreliable.
     Demetri walked Jack to his car in silence, Jack with the cold expression of a robot-wolf. Demy was formulating what words he could possibly manage to try to diffuse this nightmare, when Francesca jogged up beside him.
     "You might be less kindly than Vitus, but... well you know," she said, shrugging.
The two of them sat in the front, Jack seated himself in the back like a resigned prisoner.
     Demy started to speak, "I know it's--"
     Francesca gave him a sharp look. "Better not."
He sighed as he started the car, "Just as well. I'm sure he wouldn't hear any of it anyway."
They drove along in silence for a few minutes. Jack stared at his knees with a shell shocked expression.
     "What horror does the old man have planned?" Demetri whispered to Francesca, too low for even the vampire in the back to hear.
     "Something about bicycle spokes. I don't know..."
Demetri cringed.

In which the Circle doesn't negotiate with terrorists.
Jack avoided moving, he couldn't stop the pain of the skewers jammed through his torso because of the day, but if he didn't move they were easier to ignore.
“Like I said... I never met him before. I went to the carnival because it seemed like a good place to... blow off some steam--”

     “Why did you need to do that?” Dragomir asked.

Jack stared darkly, “You really want me to answer that?”

“Good point, but watch your tone. Continue.”

     The sun didn't burn, exactly, but it was as though it sapped all of his will, all his energy. Like he hadn't slept for a week, instead of just two days. He could hardly keep his words straight.  

     “I got to the carnival, and saw some lights at the funhouse. I saw someone bring a coffin in there, and followed it. He had a human with him to help I guess. He called to me, and I walked over against my will--”

     “Impossible!" Dragomir smiled as if he was talking to a child who had misused a word adorably. "One can only call to their own family, and it doesn't 'force' anything! Do you suggest that Leighton is a Sombreta?”

Dragomir and Sarah stood closely, rather excited by their positions as inquisitors. Sarah seemed to be wearing Tristan's jacket, perhaps as an extra way to offend Jack, but he could hardly notice colors let alone details of outfits. Demetri tried to hang back behind the curtains, but Jack stared at him to let him know he hadn't escaped notice. At least, where he thought he could remember seeing him, his eyes were beginning to dry up and it was hard to focus.

      “No, I don't know.” Jack continued, feeling his lungs bump into the skewers as he took breath to speak, “That's just what happened. Anyway, he sat up out of the coffin-”

     “Why was he in a coffin?” Sarah asked smugly, lifting her chin.

     “I don't know, I guess he was sleeping in there, with dirt and stuff.”

      “LIAR!!” Sarah nearly screamed, “He's not a progenitor, idiot!”

     “I don't know, THAT'S JUST WHAT HAPPENED!” Jack slumped forward in frustration, wincing against the skewers again.

      “Sarah has a point,” Dragomir grinned with his strange boar-like teeth, “we don't appreciate being lied to.”

      “What do you want me to say? You won't believe anything I tell you. Things I know about Theodore Leighton: he likes boats and clarinets, he doesn't seem to wear underwear, average sized penis--”

     “Funny. So about those skewers-- they're made of metal. Bicycle spokes. Clever recycling isn't it? If you think they hurt now, imagine what they'll feel like with a bolt of electricity running through them. It will hurt very much, but you won't die. ...Probably. Attach the jumpers, Sarah.” Dragomir stepped away with his hands folded behind his back.

In which the Circle doesn't negotiate with terrorists.

Tristan looked to Vitus as the interrogation wore on, interjected by zaps of electricity and gradually reducing cries of pain.
     "Jack would never do a bad thing, why does this happen? Jack's dad, can't you do something?! This is awful! "
     "...No," Vitus rubbed his head miserably, "I... I can't do anything."
     "Oh," Tristan looked away, "Yes. Sorry. I didn't think you could."
Vitus winced.

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     November 20, 2011
     By:  Kelly

Whoa, mega page! I hope you all like this strange format, it was a bit of a spontaneous decision. I was laying out endless panels of interrogation, and realized how BO-RING it looked. I figured, put it out in text and I could say a lot more, and move on the story with more action packed stuff instead. Everyone wins! :D

EDIT: Oh I forgot to mention some funny things. I meant one thing when Dragomir says "how is this familiar," but realized it could have many meanings. I encourage you to choose the one that makes him seem the worst! Also, Sarah with no makeup, hah. Jack gets stubbly at daybreak, and finally-- after Fran and Sarah getting beat in the other comic, I thought we could use some more girl power in the last panel. Yeah! Beat up that dude!

             TRANSCRIPT: This is the text of the comic, for purposes such as translation and internet searches.

VITUS:  We can’t do this!

VITUS: We don’t know that Jack did anything!

FRANCESCA:  Why did he lead that creep here? He has to know something.

SARAH:  Did you see what he did to me?!

VITUS:  What civilized society tortures its own for no good reason!

FRANCESCA: Define “good reason ”...

SARAH:  He’s NOT one of us! OBVIOUSLY! He’s a traitor!

VITUS:  Please! This is madness!

TOMASZ: Ah good, you remembered the battery.

TOMASZ: We’re going to ask you a few questions...

TOMASZ: How does this seem familiar? Demetrios! Open those curtains more.

TOMASZ: Tell us what you know of Theodore Leighton.

JACK: ...Is that his name?

TOMASZ: Answer



SARAH: Oh, we will.



ARSONELLA: What did you do to us?!


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