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Episode
123 |
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“Well…looks like it’s just you…and
me…and your balls…and this drawer.” Pep Streebeck, Dragnet Alex stared just slightly south of
the light. Sitting in the metal chair,
his hands cuffed, he worked on picking a small piece of meat out from his
teeth with his tongue. “Where is your headquarters?”
asked one of the two voices behind the bright heat lamp. “Here,” Alex said, bending down on
his metal chair so he could touch his head with his restrained hands. “That’s my headquarters. Want to see my hindquarters?” One of the men walked out from
behind the light, a threatening look on his face. “Keep it up,” he threatened, pulling his
tan pants up slightly around his once-athletic waist. “You’re going to get me in a bad mood,” he went
on, his English stained heavily with a French accent. “Lord, I just wouldn’t want that,”
Alex exclaimed with bored sarcasm. “I
mean, if you were in a bad mood, you might apprehend me without just cause
and keep me without trial or legal council.” The man punched Alex across the
face, nearly knocking him out of his chair.
Alex recovered, shaking the blow off as the man shook the pain from
his hand. Alex could feel a tiny line
of blood trickling down his nose. He
coughed once, then looked up at the guy.
“Yeah,” he said as he panted through the pain. “Because punching me’s so much more awful
than keeping me in this hell hole.” “Isaiah Hidelmein,” the voice
behind the light said. “Israeli
immigrant to the Isaiah nodded, as if flattered. “You know,” came the voice, “that
means that we could conceivably declare you an enemy of the state.” “And you’d then have to deport
me,” Isaiah said. “ “Not if you’re an international
terrorist,” said the voice. “We could
keep you here and try your for crimes against humanity.” “Oh, come on,” Isaiah said,
throwing his head back in frustration.
“At least pretend like you guys are trying to do this right. It’s too early in the interrogation for you
to start throwing around framing me. I
haven’t even been hit once. Not that
it will do you a lot of good, but still.”
He sat back, shaking his head as he tried to cross his arms as best he
could. “Nobody takes pride in their
work anymore.” Til stared at the light. “As Frenchmen, we have a real
thing for Germans,” came the voice with a laugh. Til stared at the light. “You might say we have something
of a score to settle.” Til stared at the light. “You wouldn’t want us to come over
there and get a little revenge, now would you?” Til stared at the light. “Good thing, too,” the man said,
the subtlest quiver of fear in his voice. “Enjoying your accommodations?” asked
the French officer as he walked around behind Irene. She sat at a metal table, her hands before
her. “I’ve been in worse,” she answered,
unable to completely hide her fear. “Yeah, I imagine,” the man said,
pulling out the chair opposite her, sitting down. “Look, we want to help you.” “I want to help you,” she said
back. The man smiled, laughing with an
edge of annoyance. “We need to know
what agency you’re working for.” “I’m not working for an agency,”
she said sincerely. “You’re a member of the Advanced
Paranormal Tactical Responders,” he charged. “If you already knew that, why did
you need to ask?” she puzzled. “Because we need other information
from you,” he answered. “Well, on what?” she asked
enthusiastically. She smiled a big,
friendly grin and cocked her head absently to the side. “The headquarters,” the officer
said. “Where is it?” “Where’s what?” Irene asked,
blinking, lost. “The headquarters,” the man said. “What headquarters?” she asked. “To the Responders,” he said. “What responders?” she puzzled. “The Responders you belong to.” “I belong to the responders?” she
asked, struggling to keep from smiling as the man breathed with dramatic
intention as he counted to ten. Lisa perked up as Irene was led
passed. She watched as she was walked
down the line of mostly-empty prison cells in the women’s prison. In the drab gray jumpsuits, both women
seemed to blend into the very walls of the prison. She listened as she heard the steal door
shut, then watched carefully as the guards walked back by. As soon as she heard the main door
close, she rushed to the gates and leaned out as best she could. She saw Irene hold out her hands, extending
three fingers. Lisa sighed with relief
and slumped down against the wall. She heard the door open again. She looked up, only partially
curious who was being led into the prison.
But as the guards walked by, she saw them carrying heavy steel
rods. She looked up to see them
leading a woman bound in a straightjacket and wearing a face mask. The guards pulled her along by her metal
collar, yanking her by the neck. They guided her into the prison
cell next to Lisa and shoved her forcefully inside. Two guards drew weapons on her while the
others undid her jacket, then her mask.
The four guards backed away from the cell and closed the door. Hearing it lock securely, they quickly
departed. Lisa watched them go, waiting
to hear the door shut behind them.
When the strong metal sounded closed, she sighed with relief, then
leaned against the bars to see into the cell next to her. It was Sarah. |
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