<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i1066.photobucket.com/albums/u416/InferiorRabbit/PeterAkimov.jpg)</div><strong>Peter Akimov</strong>:<br/><strong>Location:</strong>OHSPD Interrogation Room<br/><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong>5:05 PM, April 11th 2110<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Officer Dog<br/><strong>Mentioning:</strong>Dog, Frank<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Coat (https://img0.etsystatic.com/023/0/5585742/il_340x270.548268796_gxhw.jpg)<br/><hr/><br/>Peter grit his teeth, growling as she went on with the fairly snappy comebacks. Oh, she'd be a joy to have on the team indeed. She didn't like the question, clearly, assuming that Peter was just presuming a lot about her. While that was true, it didn't have anything to do with the questions he crafted for the applicants. Each interview was suited to each applicant, but Dog didn't know that. He would try to be patient with her on this point. As patient as someone like Peter could possibly be anyways. Patient was a relative term to him, really.<br/><br/>"Well, don't let me stop you from keeping those questions to yourself." Peter grumbled. She didn't need to question his motivations, since she was the one being interviewed. He fiddled with the cigarette in his hand and listened intently as she went on to explain her motivations in joining the squad. They made a fair bit of sense, and he'd admit that he didn't peg her for someone who had such noble intentions in joining the squad. It was the right answer, and he was at least glad that she was taking this interview a bit more seriously when the recorder clicked on. He put the cigarette out, and sighed with a breath of smoke, his steely eyes watching her own.<br/><br/>"First off, don't call me boss or sir. I told Frank earlier, we may look like military, but we're not. It's annoying as fuck, and serves no purpose. Call me Peter, Pete, or whatever name you make up. Just don't make it give me an aneurysm with it, Christ." He closed the file and dropped it on the desk, leaning forward. "As for your motivations, that was a good answer. Albeit a bit crazy. Not many people would consider going up against Psychos and terrorists a chance to broaden your horizons. You seem like someone that can handle yourself though, so I'll allow it. Your history with the force proves that there's a method to your madness, and fucking maddening way of talking to people proves that you're smart enough to know that this job is definitely going to challenge you. I hope you're a glutton for punishment, which brings me to my next bit," he touched the recorder to stop recording,"off the record." Peter leaned back, fiddling with his fingers as he talked, trying to keep comfortable in the stifling room.<br/><br/>"There was a particular case that occurred two or three years ago, happening in the lower parts of the posh section of Ohio Sector. We detected a disturbance in the atmosphere over that area, a hole in it. It's a typical sign of a psycho materializing on the ground. Of course we got boots on the ground within the hour, and after a bit of sniffing around we isolated it to a small house. The family inside was reluctant to let us in, for reasons you'll soon find. After a while, the mother broke down into tears and told us everything. Their daughter was deathly ill, with something they've never seen or heard of. Me and the current boss went upstairs to the daughters room, guns drawn." He paused, rolling around the memory with a profound apathy. "Her veins were black with nanomachines, her limbs shriveled like she hadn't eaten in weeks, and her hair had fallen out from the roots.<br/><br/>"The parents hadn't called the police, because they were afraid we'd kill her. They thought she was a Psycho. They were half-right. She was in the process of becoming a Psycho. It was eating away at her, trying to assimilate her but for whatever reason it wasn't taking. Something about her body, or her genes perhaps, was able to ward off and halt the process. Unfortunately though, it wasn't strong enough to stop them though. She was stuck in that state, unable to do anything. That wasn't even the worst part." He rolled up the sleeve of his actual arm, and fingered a spot that looked like a ragged burn scar, but was unique in that it seemed as though some skin was still missing. "That was from touching her. The nanomachines couldn't eat her, so they were eating anything that came within a meter of her. The captain got marked on the leg to the point he had to go to the hospital afterwards. The parents had it even worse, the husbands arm looked like he stuck it into a furnace full of ants.<br/><br/>"No one wanted to say anything about the girl, because we all knew what had to be done. There was no none cure for psychos, let alone this. She was in so much pain, and there was no way for her to get back the matter she lost, without the nanomachines pushing back. Who was to say that they wouldn't progress further if anyone tried to treat her? We didn't say anything, and just listened to the commander. He ordered us all to draw straws, himself included. My friend Johnny ended up shortest. He had to go upstairs, and..." He said nothing after that, instead just drawing the revolver from his waist so that he could place it on the table, a silent note of what his friend had to do to that girl. "None of us said anything, save for the commander. Johnny came back downstairs, obviously damaged from it, and expecting to have to face the parents. Commander took full responsibility, and we were sent out of there just as the clean-up crew came." He scratched his head, finishing the story on a sour note.<br/><br/>"You're wondering why I'm telling you this, why I turned off the recorder, and so on. Well, it's because this question is important if I'm going to rely on you to help me run this operation. It's the responsibility of the operative to the follow the orders they're given to the letter, and it's the commander's responsibility to assume all responsibility for these actions, including the guilt. All of us are going to have to do things that we aren't proud of, things that will keep us up at night. Trading one evil for another lesser one. Ten lives, or a hundred? One child, or a thousand more? Your own life, or the entire city?" His piercing eyes hadn't left hers for the entirety of their interview. "We will make decisions that can potentially break us. As a unit, as a public presence, and most of all, as people. You can't do these tasks, without sacrificing a bit of yourself each time you do them. At the same time though, I won't have you forsake your humanity, and your morality. It's what seperates us from Military. We're humans, not machines. So answer me this. Are you ready to follow orders that will test you as a person?<br/><br/>"How you answer will determine your placement. If you answer wrong, or know you can't handle it, I'll have you reassigned to anywhere you like, no questions asked."<br/>