“Time of log begin is 23:18, the date is…” The woman to my front looks down at her tablet.” Eleventh of March, twenty-twenty-eight. Interviewer is Marschal Fetra, interviewee is Emir Sankton.” She sighs then places the tablet, which was now recording, on the table.

The room is plain, the walls a muted gray, without windows and only one exit. Three chairs are placed alongside a table. I am sitting in the furthest corner, away from the metal door, while a blond-haired woman in a loosely fitting uniform occupies one of the remaining ones. Her hair is kempt and sleeked back orderly, her face has a long faded scar running across her nose and up her forehead. Her uniform is reminiscent of the regular Xcom outfit, complete with unnecessary pockets and hanging straps, none of which seemed to serve a true purpose. Black and grey, a sidearm at her thigh.

I’m dressed in the same clothes I arrived in though my jacket had been taken. My arms are on the table, chained to it with a pair of handcuffs, so are my feet, secured to a latch beneath the white table. The pain in my flank, head, and knee are gone, strange. I feel lightheaded, floaty, almost.

“Now, what do you prefer I call you?” The woman addresses me, her voice is friendly and forthcoming.

“Emir is fine,” I dismiss her.

“Alright, Emir. Do you know why you’re here tonight?” She leans back on her chair, which creaks and complains as she does.

I raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to read me my rights?”

“Well, yes but also no. Due to the...current situation and lack of a legal system, we are reworking this entire process. If you want legal counsel, I am sorry to say but we have none,” she sounded apologetic but I saw through that, she didn’t actually care.

“Do I still have the right to remain silent and a judge comprised of my peers?” I ask, worry beginning to build in my mind.

She pauses for a small moment. “No, there is no one fighting for the role of a judge nor do we have the resources to split on such… time-consuming processes. You definitely can stay quiet and just ignore me. But I would not recommend that.”

“I thought your kind wasn’t allowed to dissuade from stuff like lawyers and the sort,” I retort, making sure to not let my vision drift from her hazel-brown eyes.

“What do you think I am?” She pulls one of her legs up and crosses it, folding her hands at the kneecap.

“An interrogator,” I reply plainly.

“That is a strong word,” her lip pulls into a smile.

“And you aren’t?” I am genuinely taken aback by this woman.

“I see myself as more of a support for people who have...made a mistake. I’m here to get the full picture, I listen to all sides of an argument and see which details line up and which are logically impossible,” she explained matter-of-factly.

‘So an interrogator,’ I smirk.

“Something funny?” She inquires with a sideways cocked head.

“Nothing. What about the man, did you have a nice conversation?” I smile.

“I cannot disclose anything of the sort,” she dismisses quickly.

“And the snake?” My brow furrows.

“The viper? I believe she is being taken care of in th—”

“It,” I correct the woman sharply.

Her expression shifts, going from contained to a curious and scrutinizing look. “Excuse me?”

“It, you used the wrong word,” I explain, remaining in my challenging disposition.

“And why do you believe that?” Her tone returns to its normal, friendly sound.

“They came here as soldiers, slaves, if you will, they fought as slaves, they died as slaves. They are still slaves, they are not human or even remotely equal to us. They are animals at best, remorseless killers at worst. And you go and try to make them human! “ I slam my fist on the table, the woman doesn’t flinch.

“I am not trying to make... it human, I apologize to have used a false pronoun.” She lets go of her leg and opens her palms toward me.

“But your whole damn organization is. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Cause I tried to make things right on my own, without listening to your counterproductive rules,” I say, my voice beginning to calm.

Her face remains unchanging, not reacting to my outburst or my words.” So you know why you are here,” she concludes.

I break eye contact and look into the corner of the room. I had just given her exactly what she wanted, I need to be more careful. She seems to notice my lack of denial and puts her feet to the ground, followed by straightening her posture.

“I won’t sugarcoat it, I respect your intelligence and your record enough to know you know what kind of trouble you’re in. But it’s like I said, no one here is going to try to judge you, especially not me. My job is to gather all sides of an argument, I already have a picture of some of the information but, sadly, I can’t look into the past. I am giving you the opportunity to tell us what happened on your side,” she crosses one of her arms over her chest, rests the other arm on top of that one, and puts her hand under her chin.

I stare at her again. My mind is racing, my thoughts failing to stay entirely coherent. The lack of sleep, the pain, the frustration of the previous days, all overpowered my knowledge that this woman was not my friend. That’s what they always said, they are your friend, your only lifeline. But no, they want you to say something stupid and then they’ll have you by the balls.

I remain silent.

The woman blinks slowly, her expression awaiting.

Silence. Oppressing, looming silence. I hear my own breath, feel my heart beating in my neck, and swallow down a heavy lump. I hate this silence, it’s forcing my mind to consider talking, maybe about an off-topic, maybe just say anything to break it. My muscles begin twitching independently, my leg stats bumping up and down at a frantic pace.

She cleared her voice, took in a breath of air, and stared me down. “How about we start on your file here,” she says as she picks up the tablet.

I can see my picture from a time long passed. My hair was shorter, I had a small beard along my cheeks. I recognized the time this picture stemmed from, a few months before the invasion truly happened.

“This report is from winter of twenty-fourteen. You had a long career, do you mind if I ask how old you are?” She looks back up and offers a warm smile.

“Forty,” I shoot back quickly.

She nods and goes back to her document. I assume that she already knows all this information by heart but is just making a show of it. “Who did you work for?”

I hold back a sigh. “A cooperation by the name of Aisir, not that you’ll find records of them,” I scoff.

“Why’s that?” She is quick to follow up, not looking away.

“Because that was the point of the organization. We weren’t affiliated with any government, we had private suppliers, we had private targets. As far as I know, I’m probably the last one alive out of us,” I couldn’t help but smile a little, remembering the many people who believed they would outlive me.

“Your targets, what kind of missions did you perform?”

“Is this really important?” I interrupt her, my annoyance seeping into my words and expression.

“Yes, I believe so. The information in your arrest report is...spotty at best. I want to understand you, Emir. I want to know what you were and who you are now, so I can get the full story about what happened between you, Luis, and the group we have come to know as the Cullers.” She sounds adamant, convinced, and full of conviction.

“Cullers, huh? Have you discovered their base yet?” I ask through squinted eyes.

“No, but I believe you can help with that.”

I bite down on my teeth, clenching my jaw. I saw an opportunity here, a small one but not something I could pass up. She already described that the legal system was out of place, which lines up with the information I have. Perhaps there is a world in which my information about my ex-affiliates could garner me a lessened punishment.

“Where do you want me to start?” I say with conviction and right my posture.

The woman’s eyes glimmered for a split second, seemingly satisfied that I agreed to talk. “Well, normally I would leave that up to you. Go from wherever you want to start and ask questions. But my superiors are interested in what you did in the months leading up to your contact with these Cullers and why you joined them.”

“Hmm,” I muse with a hum. I let my eyesight wander into the corner above me, letting my mind travel backward in time.

“It started when you broke contact with us. Previously, it was always sort of an event whenever you showed up, something to be excited about. At first, people were worried because of the lack of news but that didn’t last too long and they simply became bored. I held meetings on the regular and tried to keep a general order. But it was getting strange. People were talking about leaving, wanting to split into multiple smaller groups, because they believed they could survive on their own.

But nothing came of that, really. Only, on the day of the aliens’ attack, there was tension throughout the entire camp. Luis ran off into the forest after almost killing one of the residents and comes back screaming of Advent. I talked to him, he was almost incoherent in his fears, then made preparations for defending the camp. I trusted Luis at that time, he was loyal, kept to himself, and had marksmanship unparalleled with any other.

But I shouldn’t have. Maybe he was in cahoots with them all along, maybe he just wanted us all dead quicker. But his suggestion of grouping, clumping together backfired almost immediately. Without the supplies from you, we ran out of ammo before the xenos even showed up. Hundreds died that day, slaughtered without mercy, burned, crushed, shot. Children, unarmed families, they didn’t discriminate, they didn’t show mercy.

The only reason even some of us survived is that the Cullers showed up. They had similar tech to you, behaved the same too. So most of us just assumed they were a subsection of you, a smaller group perhaps.”

She writes something down on the tablet.

“Now, some of the aliens gave up. They threw down their weapons and, all that did, were locked up in a building until the next morning. I was injured though not gravely, so I was among the first to wake up. I was patched up and given medicine. Then this woman, dressed in a labcoat, brown hair, and glasses walks in and debriefs me on the situation.”

“We’ve heard about this person, doctor Kura, correct?” Fetra asks, glancing up from the screen. “How many were there?”

“I can’t recall.”

“More than twenty?” She raises her head slightly and flares her eyes.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“And yet you say none of them were killed. A normal skirmish of aliens consists of over thirty units, often even more. So we’re missing a few. Emir, you aren’t being honest. I can’t stress enough that the only thing you have left is your credibility and you aren’t doing yourself any favors by lying. So, once again, what happened to the rest?”

“They were shot in self-defense when the Cullers came in.” My voice would be shaking if it wasn’t for my stalwart attitude.

“Self-defense,” she types something on her tablet. “And what happened next?”

"I am told that about eighty percent of my previously harbored inhabitants are dead, and the rest is only barely alive. So I am offered a job, getting to come with them, going on missions for them, in exchange for safety and shelter for anyone willing to join.”

“And they were open about the fact that they were not actually Xcom?”

‘Fuck, they must have talked to Luis,’ “It was never directly stated but I assumed as such very early on.”

“How early,” she continues to press.

“I don’t have a particular moment,” I look her straight in the eyes, putting resolution into my words.

Her eyes squint slightly and I feel that silent pressure return for but a moment

“Alright, continue” she smiles and returns to her tablet.

I debate shutting up again, perhaps that would be for the best, considering what I will have to talk about. But I know I’m quick on my feet, I already have the next events planned out.

“The order came through that no aliens should be harmed but without an explanation as to why. I believe you can see the problem with that. Not even a day ago, they killed everyone I once knew, everyone in the camp had lost someone that day. And they were angry, justifiably angry.”

“What about you, were you angry because of what you lost?” She asks

“Yes, but I saw it as more than that. I didn’t have family, only friends. But I felt those who did, I understood them. There was demand for the aliens to be executed, either in front of or by the survivors. The Cullers defended the aliens and I did so too.”

“You did?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Not because I particularly wanted to, rather, I did so because it was ordered. We would have use for them, doctor Kura was particularly interested in the vipers and would never have let anything happen to them.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“And you were on board with this view, despite all the things you had lost? You see where my problem lies in that, don’t you?” She pulls up from the blue screen and eyes me.

“Yes. I would have been fine with whatever happened to them, I didn’t really care. I hoped it would involve some sort of punishment or their actions but I knew it wasn’t up to me. Now, Luis...he thought it would be a good idea to take things into his own hands. He snuck inside the building we were keeping them in and made plans to ‘rescue’ them. Rescuing, of course, refers to letting them go without any proper justice being done.

I wanted to confront him but knew that he was not the most stable in terms of mentality. It was dangerous, a soldier believing that he is the only one who knows right from wrong and ignores what his superiors know. So I got myself a little overwatch when he came to me, just in case. He begins talking about how I am being tricked, tries to get me to ‘see the aliens’ side of the argument.’ When I don’t just randomly decide to forgive the murder of my people, for the simple argument of ‘they were just following orders,’ he gets agitated. I start to feel uneasy because he is screaming wildly and even pulls a gun on me. So I call for backup and they restrain him.”

I tried to gauge her reaction, hoping that it was close enough to whatever she knew. But I couldn’t discern anything.

“Please, continue. What happens to the aliens and Luis after that?”

“Luis is carried away, I don’t know where to. But the camp is getting impatient, they demand justification and justice. While the Cullers don’t want this to happen, they were not really in a place to enforce that decision, due to the fact that the residents outnumbered them easily. So, for the protection of the aliens, doctor Kura gauged as most important, they offered up the others. The groups that had formed wanted to split up after, while about thirteen of the militia joined the Cullers, the first of which ended up killing the aliens.”

and the ones that needed up...executing the aliens, who were they?”

“Residents, people who lost someone dear to them and didn’t feel like joining into another organization. I can’t name them all,” I explain briefly.

“Not you, nor the agents of the Culler, or the ones we arrested alongside you, were involved in this murder?”

“Murder?!” I burst forward and the chains of my cuffs clatter. “How can it be murder, do you see killing animals as murder? Do you actually believe they are worth defending?”

Her body jolts and the chair slides backward a tiny bit, along with her posture shifting away from me. I clench my teeth, immediately calming my breath. I am not going to just sit there and take this.

“You already know what happened there, don’t you?” I challenge the woman, vision focused on her. “Why the fuck am I even still talking to you?!”

“You are talking because you have done wrong. For all intents and purposes, your actions, if even remotely what had been reported, you would be corporally executed before you had even set foot in here. Hell, I could shoot you where you sit and my superiors wouldn’t bat an eye at it. That’s how far this world has come, that’s how little remains of the rules we had worked centuries to establish. You’re asking about rights?” Her voice suddenly shifts, becoming distorted and echoey. “ You are out of your mind, Emir Sankton. ”

My features scrounge, my eyes are forced to seize their stare and turn it into a horrified gaze, while my posture drops.

Her eyes begin to leak with a vapor-like cloud of deep, dark violet, shifting the brown irises into a pair of glowing purple. Her hair changes color, her entire visage shifts, the room around me swims in wavy patterns. I see bright white for a second and close my eyes. I feel everything move around me, the temperature drops, and air refuses to enter my lungs.

Finally, oxygen reenters my body and I tear my eyes open.

I’m no longer in an artificially lit, plain room. Instead, there is low, green lighting, drawing out shapes inside a smooth, black-walled, room. The size is similar but, as a replacement for concrete, a black alloy lines every surface. I’m still sitting on a chair but I am not restrained. I’m still wearing the same clothes and there is still a table in front of me. I look up.

The woman is sitting opposite of me, hands on the table, there is no tablet. Her previous uniform is gone, or perhaps it was never there. In its stead, a grey suit of armor, boasting alien metals, purple lines, and separately moving segments. Tight to her body, secured by straps of pockets and belts. Her hair is now white, silvern almost, longer, and loosely hanging over her nape. Her armor goes all the way up to her neck and ends below the jaw where it ends in a red alloy.

“What the fuck are you?”

“I am human, not more, not less. Well, perhaps a little more.” Her voice still carries this impossibly strange distortion.

“But you wouldn’t grant me the right of a human, would you?” She pauses, cocking her head to the side. “You know...I hate it when people lie to me. Because I can always see through it. It...disgusts me, when they think they can outsmart me, look down on me. And you, Emir, carry much hatred. But also intelligence, at least I hope I wasn’t wrong on that. So I am once again emphasizing,” she leans on the table, her eyes glow with that ghostly purple. “Don’t lie to me. You have nothing else left to do.”

She is right about my lack of arguing power at this moment. I have nothing to my name, only a past I need to leave out of this conversation. She has a file on me, on my arrest, meaning it is likely she knows my work was much more than simply illegal.

These people weren’t some stupid border police, not a team of military agents, who had to follow strict rules or be faced with punishment. I could compare them to the CIA but even that wouldn’t suffice, in comparison to what Xcom has become. These people - augmented with alien technology and equipt with knowledge humanity should never have acquired so early - were no longer bound to rule, or even morals in some cases.

This wasn’t a human woman, not someone I could reason with, intimidate, or play games with. She is in my head and I have just been trying to spin some story. This could end badly, very badly.

Eyes still wide open, I finally slow my breathing and calm the marathon-like pace my heart rate is going.

“So, will you tell me what you know? Or do I have to pry it from your skull ,” her eyes flared.

My mouth feels dry as I let it hang agape, unable to focus on anything but the sight in front of me.

Suddenly, it all shifts once more and the woman returns to a relaxed posture, her demeanor becomes less intense, and the eery glow vanishes from her eye, though they remain purple.

"So, how about we start this again? My name is Marschal Fetra, I am a psionic investigator and you are tried for crimes against sentient lifeforms. Matter of fact is, your involvement in the deaths of many is undeniable. The only way you can hope to survive the coming days is if you are open with me about your past and who you worked with." She rests her elbows on the table and focuses me with the massive, violet pupils.

I stare in silence and disbelief.

"I take that as confirmation," she smiles though I see it as what it truly is, not a warm, kind expression, rather, one of self-satisfaction. She knows that I have nothing to argue with, no leverage I can realistically act upon. I have nothing anymore. Nothing because Luis and that thing took it away from me.

"Let's begin with why you really joined the Cullers. I can already guess it had something to do with the circumstances of having an offer of revenge, but I want to know if there was more than that. Did they promise you something, a position, safety, a career?"

"It was a matter of gauging risk. The plan was to travel with them for a time, temporarily," I choke the words out.

"What risk?" She followed quickly.

"Of being in a room like this," I motion around.

"Please explain," she says and crosses her arms.

I don't want to explain, my past was supposed to stay out of this. But I have no choice, not anymore. There is very little in the way of my skull being introduced to hot plasma and my brains making acquaintance with the wall behind me. Maybe, just maybe, if I'm honest in some aspects I could get some lessened repercussions.

"My work with Aisir was not...sanctioned in terms of human rights. And, since I was arrested before and there is a record of me, I knew that Xcom would likely arrest me on sight if they ever saw reason to question me. I saw this as an opportunity to avoid having to deal with you all by entering an organization that clearly wasn't dealing with you."

Fetra's glowing eyes begin to flare with intense lighting and I feel something lightly prod against the exterior of my thoughts.

"Sanctioned from the point of human rights, please elaborate," her head didn't move as she spoke.

I shoot the woman a glare, signifying my discomfort and rising frustration, but she played oblivious.

“We supported certain groups, some were deemed terrorists by civilized folk, sometimes we organized and executed certain people that were a thorn in our side. And clashed with the militaries of the world, though they never knew it was us, of course. It wasn’t the things we did, rather how we did them. It was a time of rules and regulations, from everything regarding what was legal to do with another human being, all the way to what materials could be owned.” Memories of hot, dusty, dark environments flash before my eyes.

“Why did you join them?” If it wasn’t for the fact that I know better than to trust her, I would have bought the air of genuine interest she portrayed.

My jaw clenches, trying to get me to shut up. But my mouth keeps babbling away. “Because I wanted true, unruled, uncontained freedom. There is not much more freeing than being, not only allowed to but, encouraged to shoot someone if you dislike their attitude.” A smile creeps up my face.

“Good, returning to the topic of the Cullers. I know about Kura, she’s been in our sights for a long time but your colleagues suggest something else. There is a leader, isn’t there, a commander.” I feel her voice all around me.

A cold shiver causes me to shudder uncomfortably, my mind is screaming at me to ‘ Answer her!’

My eyesight flickers and she is suddenly closer, her chair only a few feet from me, in the middle of the room. The table is gone. Or maybe it was nev- you know what I want to say.

“Yes, I do. You are confused, but I assure you that I am here to help,” her voice comes from the side, despite the fact that she is sitting in front of me. I see her lips move but it’s delayed.

I want to scream in terror, as I lose feeling in my lower body, starting at my legs. It crawls through my clothes, a vapor of violet mist, trailing upward. Everything it touched went numb. And, however much I was struggling to do so, my body didn’t respond.

It reaches the top of my legs, I can no longer stand, though my posture remains upright, frozen in places.

“Talk,” she whispers, echoey and insistent.

I talk before I’m able to truly conceive what happens if I’m completely entrapped by her powers. “There is a commander, I’ve met him once. It’s a man with tall stature, a missing eye that’s covered with armor. He has a prosthetic leg and only talks to initiates if they’ve landed recently.”

I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to be slightly more honest, yes, but this? This wasn’t even about some stupid honor I was trying to hold on to, it is unwise to say this so early. But that agent, that freak, made it seem like the only logical thought that had ever entered my mind, the biggest truth I had ever faced.

“And what happened to Luis?”

I knew the question would come eventually. If the snake was alive, it would have blabbered to them all about that bastard. This time, as I felt the all-encompassing whispers, which would try to coerce my mind into answering, draw back quickly; I wanted to answer this question.

“I fucking killed him,” I let a wide, satisfied smile twist my features to their very limits.

Her head cocks to the side and her face reclines a little, a gesture of intrigued doubtfulness.

“Did you now. What if I told you he is alive?”

My goes go wide again, as this fucking bitch smiles, her eyes lighting up with joy at my unbelieving expression.

“He isn’t, he can’t be,” I say more to myself, shaking my head.

“Both of you suffered strong blood loss, in fact, you hit each other - almost - equally. From what I understand of both of your histories, at least from what we could dig out of the physical archives, you are trained killers. Not only that, talented too. But medicine has evolved. Eons of struggling innovations and incremental steps toward the betterment of science have been cut into a few years of war. Wounds you may think are fatal are no longer so, if we can get there fast enough. The only thing you could be lucky about is that we have an extra cell for you, or we would have just let the bleeding take care of you.”

‘A cell.’ My vision focuses again, enflamed with the reminder that I have no true way out of this. That it was either death or prison until I rot.

I need to get out. If not out of the entire thing, then maybe just this god-forsaken room.

Without giving my head time to think about it, and possibly be influenced, I shoot up from my chair. And, despite the fact that I can’t feel my limbs, for the most part, I stand successfully.

She reacts as well, but not the reach for the pistol that I had anticipated, but just a wrinkling of her eyebrows, as my fist impacts the wall next to me.

I hear a crack and feel roaring pain shoot through my entire wrist and up my arm.

And with pain comes clarity.

The strange lightness in my body disappears and I feel something sharp in my chest. I take a breath in, the atmosphere is no longer the same, or it never was and I just bought whatever sensory rape she put me under. It’s thicker, filled with a mixture my lungs don’t want to take in. Without any hesitation, I begin to violently cough and choke, doubling over myself and knocking the chair over.

Liquid begins to gather in my eyes and I seize to be able to make out anything but blurry colors and swimming patterns.

One of those patterns comes closer, two dark stilts.

The woman squats down in front of me, as I lean on the ground on my knees and elbows.

“And you believe us being less, can’t even take a higher concentration of helium. Get used to it. I have a few more questions, I’m sure you don’t mind answering,” I hear the disgusting smile on her face.

“But that was smart, I’ll give you that,” I feel her grabbing the top of my scalp, and my head is forced upward. “Who taught you that?”

I stare defiantly, looking up at her with a hateful gaze. Deep in my mind, I try to suppress the name I had thought of momentarily; Kura. Before my brain has time to truly process what I’m doing, I pull my chin up and spit in her face.

Immediately, my head is slammed down onto the ground. Searing pain in my nose, a warm trail of blood runs down my cheek, coming from my nose. I whip my head back up and follow it with a sideways fist but I strike into nothing

The world turns cold and I feel a deep, biting sensation in my chest.

Suddenly, I’m standing. The light is different once more, bright, natural. The air is so clear, so much easier to breathe in. The blinding white begins to adjust and I can see again.

I remember this sight, a pathway leading away from a long-abandoned town. The bright lights of an early-day sun are filtered through colorful and rustling leaves. I smell the sweetness of trees and plants.

Then it returns. A pain that took the desperately missed air from my chest and caused everything in my body to sink.

Bullet wounds don’t hurt initially, that’s the worst part. You only feel cold, you only feel something missing. And then you look down.

Deep crimson stains my white shirt and begins to form a quickly growing circle in the middle of my chest. And the wind seems to run through my entire body, sapping me of my warmth and strength to stand.

I fall to my knees, the ground is soft and mossy, wetted with droplets of condensation.

I stare at the infinitely growing pool of red in my chest, unable to process anything anymore.

I don’t remember how I even got into that room. I don’t remember what happened after this, as my vision trails to another figure, slumped against a tree.

Like an actor, getting pulled backward by cables, I am violently sucked into a black nothingness from my back. I see the light disappear as if entering the shaft of a mining elevator, the last few rays being cherished in my mind. I try to breathe but it’s only empty gasps.

I feel like a diver, trying to emerge after taking a bit too long a journey into the unknown, I desperately claw at the area around me, hoping to thrash and wiggle my way out of whatever void I am floating in. Panic from the knowledge that I have nothing to battle against, that this isn’t a foe I can fight, clouds my mind. Terror, even after all my years of facing death with a straight face, finalizes its hold in my thoughts.

I kick and swing at the space around me but only find emptiness. My eyes are open but I'm unable to see anything. It feels like I'm underwater, only without the wetness and ability to actually swim. I'm just floating in nothingness, there is no up nor down.

Suddenly, a bright, purple light fills my vision. Similar to looking directly into the sun, my vision is burned by simply glancing in its direction and I have to close my eyes. But the light isn't halted by this, it burns through my eyelids, forces its way into my retinas.

With far too much speed, I am violently expelled from this infinite void and am hurled back into reality. The green light of the room greets me and the smooth, black walls prove harder than expected, as I come to a skidding crash against them. My head hits the leg of the chair and I feel something crack in my back.

I yell out in pain but a cold hand snatches around my throat, cutting off any air or sound - except for a surprised gurgle - I had tried to make. My muffled scream goes without effect, as the woman forcefully pulls upward. With impossible strength, I’m lifted off the floor and pressed against the wall behind me. My eyes finally manage to adjust and I see her, a little shorter than me, staring at me with animosity.

“You are testing my patience,” she hisses the words, their high-pitched and distorted frequency hurts my ears and I wince involuntarily.

“Then fucking kill me, ‘cause it ain’t changing,” I smile though my voice comes out crocked and forced.

The enmity she showed a second ago vanishes within an instance and twists into a sadistic smirk. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She suddenly leans closer and whispers. “ And I’d like to as well,” ‘As well, as well, die, kill.’ I hear her voice repeat and echo in my mind and my heart refuses to beat for a second.

Right as I believe to feel her freezing grip push further into my throat, her long nails digging into my neck, she relents and I fall to my knees once more. I clutch my throat and gag, as the far too thick air enters my body again.

“But you are still useful, at least your mind is. So you get to live. Now, I hope you have learned the repercussions of lying to me. Don’t do it again, are we clear?” She stands over top me, her voice no longer carries the ghostly repetitions or creepy echo.

I still feel her mind clash against mine, a battle not of wills but of fortitude. And it was already clear I had no fighting chance in this. An insurmountable, undeniable feeling that I should answer, that I had to answer.

“Yes,” I choke through a naval inhale.

“Good. You sit tight here, someone will come to pick you up. And like I said, get used to the atmosphere, it’s all you’re gonna breathe for the rest of your life.” I look up at her, she’s smiling again.

I want to spit but fear that she is prepared for it. She already showed she wouldn’t kill me for something so minor, rather, it would garner me another trip through whatever hellhole she could conjure up.

While I catch my breath, she turns on her heel and I hear the door, a construct that almost blends into the wall, only separated by a thin slit, slide open. I catch a tiny glimpse of a long, greenly lit hallway, a door of the same design adjacent to mine. Then it closes and I’m left to listen to my racing heart.

‘This is bad, really fucking bad. But I’m not done yet. Her powers are overwhelming but the trick Kura advised me of worked: pain overpowered whatever mental attacks another might throw at you. I just doubt that I’ll get another chance to do that.

And Luis is alive. Even if she didn’t spell it out directly, it’s obvious. If they could save me, they could have saved him. And that fucking snake,’ my knuckles whiten as I clench my fists.

‘I will survive this and come for you. Just you wait.’