The High Court Building; Central Suor Sector, Synoro.

Court was in session inside a massive room, its grandeur reminiscent of an ancient amphitheater. Arched windows, polished marble floors and the rich mahogany benches set the design of the space. The walls of the courtroom were adorned with portraits of past magistrates and other notable figures. The stern visages seemed to watch over the proceedings like silent guardians. Painted in somber hues, the portraits added tension to the severity of the moment.

At the center of the room, two litigators stood poised. Between them, a witness sat perched on a stool. Her face was apprehensive. Before them, a panel of three magistrates, including Luisa Lawton, presided over the proceedings. They were adorned in ceremonial yellow and brown garments. Their faces were structured with judgment, as their eyes wandered between the speakers and the witness.

Flanking the magistrates, on either side, were five spectators. Their presence existed as the public accountability that underpinned the judicial system. Their eyes darted between the litigators with mixed expressions of curiosity and solemnity.

The prosecutor was a blonde man with a smug grin. It was Jacob Carl, the same prosecutor who presided over Martin’s sentencing years ago. He addressed Luisa Lawton, the lead Magistrate.

"Your Honor, I request permission to present the interrogation video as evidence to the court."

Luisa glanced at the prosecutor before turning to the defense, her afro bouncing slightly.

"Mr. Duarte, do you object to the video's admission?"

Mr. Duarte was a tall, bald man with olive skin. With a calm demeanor, he shook his head.

"No objection, Your Honor."

Luisa nodded, granting Mr. Carl’s request.

"Clerk, please retrieve the video."

A young woman in a black robe approached a large television screen hanging from the ceiling, its image visible to everyone in the courtroom. She held a remote control, and pressed play as she directed the device towards the screen. The witness, a petite woman with trembling hands, flinched slightly as the video began to play.

The scene shifted to a small, dimly lit interrogation room. A woman with strawberry blonde hair and exotic features entered. She greeted Mr. Carl and Mr. Duarte with a short smile. She then greeted the witness with the same courtesy. The witness sat across from her, her eyes wide with fear. Mr. Duarte stood behind the witness.

“Hello Sonia Baxter, I’m Elaine Moss. I will be your interrogator for today. Now, I know you have never done this before so I will explain the process. In a few minutes you will feel paralyzed. Do not panic, it is simply part of the process. You might feel as if your head tightens, similar to a headache. It will calm down within seconds. This isn’t something the average person is used to. Mr. Jacob Carl will be the first to ask you some questions. If you are not fully truthful with your answers, you will experience some discomfort. The more severe the lie, the greater the discomfort, ok?

Creases printed on Sonia’s face. The fear was evident. Her tanned face quickly lost its color. She looked up at Mr. Duarte, as the man placed his big hand, gently on her shoulder.

“It will be fine. Just answer the best you can”

Sonia turned her attention back to Elaine. Her mouth formed into a shape that suggested she was about to scream. Then, in an instant, Sonia's breath hitched. A strangled gasp was trapped in her throat as her eyes met Elaine's. It was as if a thousand volts surged through her veins, her body tensing, poised on the brink of a scream. Then, paralysis overcame her. Her muscles turned to jelly, her skin tingling with a strange numbness. The world around her seemed to tilt.

She struggled to speak. But her voice was lost in the sudden silence. Her scream was a phantom echo in her mind. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of the room's oppressive quiet.

The fluorescent lights shimmered.The atmosphere crackled with a strange energy. At that moment, Elaine's eyes transformed. The once warm brown irises turned a chilling shade of crimson, the whites of her eyes covered in bloodied veins. The sight sent a shiver down Sonia's spine, as her stomach churned with nausea. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in.

Jacob stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking against the tiled floor. He stood next to Elaine. The scent of his expensive cologne wafted across the room. Slow and steady, Elaine addressed Sonia.

"Ms. Baxter, we are now ready to begin the interrogation."

Each syllable of those words were a jolt to Sonia's already frayed nerves. With a formal tone, Elaine informed Jacob to begin.

"Mr. Carl, you may proceed."

Jacob stepped closer to Sonia, his shadow falling across her like a shroud. The coldness of his presence was unsettling.

"Ms. Baxter, our investigation has revealed some interesting anomalies in your financial records."

The tension grew as he paused.

"In the past year, your income has nearly tripled. A remarkable feat for an administrative assistant at the Institute of Governance."

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His words were a venomous accusation cloaked in polite curiosity. Sonia's heart pounded violently. Jacob continued.

"Ms. Baxter, we'd like to understand the source of this newfound wealth. Have you acquired any additional employment, aside from your role at the Institute?"

Sonia stammered as she replied.

"I have... no recollection of that money.”

A sharp pain, like a hot needle piercing her skull, lanced through her head. The edges of the room seemed to blur as nausea washed over her. A faint whimper escaped her lips. The warmth of her own blood trickled down her upper lip.

Jacob remained impassive and unwavering.

"Ms. Baxter, are you quite certain you know nothing about where the money came from?"

Sonia took a deep breath, the blood heavy in her nostrils. Though still fearful, she gained a hint of defiance.

"I have no other employment. I had no idea of that money until I was arrested."

She had made a desperate plea for truth and a fleeting hope for mercy. But the world tilted once more, the fluorescent lights overhead distorting into blinding colors. A guttural cry of pain tore from her lips as another searing pain ripped through her head.

The interrogation room was thick with the scent of antiseptic wipes. A young nurse had walked into the room. She dabbed at Sonia's face, cleaning away the blood from her latest bout of pain.

"We tracked the money to a personal account. But that person doesn't seem to exist,” Jacob said.

He allowed a moment of silence, waiting to see if Sonia would answer. When she did not, he continued.

"Your employer stated you’ve been leaving early on most days for some-doctor’s appointments. Is this correct?"

The paralysis made Sonia feel as though she were trapped in a vise. The antiseptic wipes felt cold against her skin.

"I have early-stage MS. I’ve been seeking treatment."

Douglas' smile widened, a predator toying with its prey.

"Dr. Timothy Lucero is your doctor, correct?"

“Yes,” Sonia said.

"Dr. Lucero has also been arrested. He is suspected of money laundering and attempted terrorism."

Sonia's breath hitched, a sob trapped in her throat.

"I don't know anything about that.”

Just then, another sharp, agonizing pain tore through her chest, a searing heat that made her vision blur. A cough, violent and uncontrollable, wracked her body.

Sensing her own body straining to maintain the paralysis, Elaine interrupted.

"It's time for an intermission.”

Jacob nodded, satisfaction displayed on his lips.

"Fine by me. I'm done with my questions... for now."

Elaine relinquished her psychic hold on Sonia, and closed her eyes. A single tear of blood traced a path through the delicate capillaries beneath her right eye. With a trembling hand, she reached for the antiseptic wipe left behind by the nurse, and wiped it away.

…

Back in the austere confines of the courtroom, the television flickered to black, silencing the haunting sounds of Sonia's interrogation. Jacob addressed Luisa.

"Your Honor, while investigations into other potential terrorism suspects are ongoing, this interrogation clearly demonstrates Ms. Baxter's awareness of plots threatening national security."

Luisa remained steady and turned to Mr. Duarte.

"Mr. Duarte, does the defense have a rebuttal?"

Mr. Duarte sighed.

"Unfortunately, Your Honor, we do not.”

Luisa leaned over to her fellow magistrate sitting on her right side. The man had piercing light eyes, and slick, gelled hair. As they whispered to each other, their mouths frowned with a nod. Slowly, Luisa returned her attention to Sonia.

“Based on the argument and evidence presented, this court has found the defendant…guilty.”

Sonia's voice, raw with desperation, quivered through the vast, marble hall.

"I'm innocent! I've been framed! I know nothing about terrorism or money!"

A hush fell over the courtroom. The silence was punctuated by the soft rustle of spectators shifting in the worn leather seats. Sonia's gaze darted across the room, her eyes filled with a desperate hope for someone to believe her.

The other magistrate sitting left of Luisa with grey hair shaved into a military-style crew cut, leaned forward.

"Silence!"

The sharp crack of the gavel echoed through the hall, silencing the murmurs that had begun to rise.

Sonia's shoulders slumped, her defiant spirit momentarily crushed by their authority. Tears streamed down her face. They felt hot against her flushed skin.

Luisa turned to Mr. Duarte.

"Very well then, we shall meet in my chambers within the hour. Make sure to have your terms for the Combat session ready.”

...

Stale coffee danced against Rebecca's nostrils. A half-empty mug sat on the coffee table. The television, its screen flashing with the morning news, droned on. A monotonous voice narrated the city's woes.

The anchor's voice echoed through the room,

"...hunters are calling it the Bloody Beast. They are stressing residents of South Bonao to stay indoors and minimize going out as much as possible, especially at night. If anyone has any information that might help them catch this murderer, please call-"

A phone number was posted on the screen as it was read aloud.

The news shifted, the screen now filled with the imposing facade of the Institute of Governance.

"Investigations into an alleged terrorist plot by dissidents within the Institute of Governance, are being undertaken by the Board of Education and the Department of Public Safety. As a result, classes have been canceled and all staff has been furloughed. The Board has yet to make a determination on compensation for former employees."

Rebecca, her pajamas rumpled and her hair disheveled, flinched as if struck. She reached for her coffee mug with trembling hands. The hot liquid sloshed over the rim, staining the faded fabric of her pajamas. She cursed under her breath, setting the mug down with a clatter. Her face was reflected in the television's dark screen. She was frustrated.

“Terrorist plot?! That’s bullshit!”

Suddenly, the doorbell's shrill cry pierced the morning quiet. Rebecca straightened, her curiosity momentarily eclipsing her anxieties. She padded towards the door. Her bare feet were silent on the worn carpet. Peering through the peephole, she noticed a familiar face that surprised her. Olt stood on the doorstep. His face had a grim determination that Rebecca had rarely seen.

Confused, Rebecca swung the door open.

"Olt? What happened?" Her voice was raspy from sleep and the lingering taste of her coffee.