The atmosphere in the interrogation room was more tense than usual, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved pain.

The harsh, fluorescent lights cast stark shadows on the walls, creating an oppressive sense of confinement.

Dustin’s eyes were fixed on Noel, his gaze piercing and unyielding.

"What does this all have to do with my son's death?" Dustin asked, his tone serious and grave, each word heavy with the weight of his grief.

Noel met Dustin's gaze, his expression unreadable.

"Well, because a few days after that incident, the mark your son left on my hand disappeared. So wouldn't it be obvious to assume that the Nexus officers killed him?"

Dustin's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists on the table.

The mention of his son's death brought a fresh wave of anguish crashing over him, mingled with a simmering fury.

Noel shifted slightly, trying to shrug his shoulders, but the handcuffs bit into his wrists, preventing him from raising his hands.

The cold metal was a constant reminder of his captivity, the price he was paying for his actions.

"How can I believe you?" Dustin shouted, his voice cracking under the strain of his emotions.

"All you have is just an assumption!"

He couldn't, no, didn't want to believe that the Nexus officers and Robert, whom he had always idolized, could be capable of such treachery.

The very notion threatened to shatter his perception of the world, a world where he had placed his trust in the wrong people.

Noel leaned forward, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Then how about you ask your friend? After all, he is a general. He must be aware of it."

Noel's words hung in the air, a challenge laced with certainty.

He was confident, steadfast in the truth he believed.

Dustin's heart pounded in his chest, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirling within him.

He wanted to dismiss Noel's accusations, to cling to the belief that his friends, his idols, were good and just.

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But a part of him, a part he had tried to suppress, whispered that there might be more to the story.

"Fine then," Dustin said, his voice steely with resolve.

"But remember, if what you said turns out to be wrong, it won't be good for you."

Noel met Dustin's gaze, his eyes unwavering.

"Whatever you say," he replied casually, though the tension in the room suggested otherwise.

Dustin stood up from his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence.

He turned on his heel, his back rigid with determination and the weight of the decision he had made.

Each step felt heavy, burdened by the potential betrayal of a trusted friend and the possibility of uncovering a horrific truth.

Noel watched him go, the smirk fading from his lips as the Nexus officers grabbed his arms, their grips unyielding.

The cold bite of the handcuffs pressed into his wrists, a stark reminder of his captivity.

Despite his outward bravado, a storm of emotions churned within him—anticipation, fear, and a grim satisfaction that the seed of doubt had been planted.

As Dustin exited the room, the door creaked and then slammed shut, the sound final and foreboding.

The harsh fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting fleeting shadows on the walls.

The Nexus officers pulled Noel to his feet, their expressions impassive, and began to escort him back to his cell.

The corridor outside the interrogation room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of disinfectant and something more intangible—desperation, perhaps.

Noel's footsteps echoed alongside those of the officers, a rhythmic reminder of his current reality.

His mind, however, was already racing ahead, planning his next step.

-----

After exiting the interrogation room, Dustin moved quickly, his mind racing.

He navigated the sterile, labyrinthine corridors of the facility with purpose, his footsteps echoing off the cold, white walls.

Every step carried the weight of the potential revelations that awaited him.

Reaching his room, he closed the door behind him, shutting out the noise and chaos of the world outside.

The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it provided a momentary refuge.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, his heart pounding, and grabbed his phone from the desk.

His fingers trembled slightly as he dialed the number of his friend, Wilson, a General-level officer in the Nexus.

He brought the phone to his ear, each ring intensifying his anxiety.

"Hello!" came Wilson's familiar voice from the other side.

"Wilson, it's me," Dustin said, his voice tight with urgency.

There was a brief pause before Wilson responded, the shift in his tone immediate.

"What happened, my friend? Why do you sound so serious?"

Dustin took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"Can we meet in a few hours?" Dustin asked, his voice strained.

He knew that important matters like this needed to be discussed in person, where he could read Wilson's expressions and ensure there was no room for misinterpretation.

Wilson's voice came through, tinged with concern.

"Why? What happened?"

"It’s something important," Dustin replied, the gravity of his words hanging in the air.

There was a brief pause before Wilson responded, his tone now serious.

"Okay. Let's meet up in two hours."

"Thank you," Dustin said, his relief palpable as he hung up the phone.

He stared at the device for a moment, his mind racing.

The weight of the impending conversation bore down on him, filling him with a mix of dread and determination.

His room, usually a place of comfort, now felt claustrophobic, the walls closing in as he grappled with his swirling thoughts.

Dustin sat down on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.

The memories of his son flooded back—his laughter, his dreams, the light in his eyes that had been so cruelly extinguished.

The ache in his chest was almost unbearable, a physical manifestation of his grief and longing for answers.

He glanced around the room, his gaze landing on a photo of his son on the nightstand.

Picking it up, he traced the outline of his son's face with his finger, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"I’ll find out the truth, I promise," he whispered, his voice breaking.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as he waited, the ticking of the clock a relentless reminder of the passage of time.

He tried to distract himself, but his mind kept returning to the interrogation room, to Noel's unwavering certainty and the unsettling implications of his words.

Dustin stood up and began to pace, the nervous energy coursing through him like a live wire.

What if Wilson confirmed his worst fears?

What if the people he had trusted, the system he had believed in, were responsible for his son's death?

The thought was almost too much to bear, yet he knew he had to face it.

Finally, the appointed time drew near.

Dustin grabbed his jacket, took one last look at his son's photo, and left the room.

Each step toward the meeting place felt heavy, laden with the weight of his mission.

The corridors seemed longer, the air thicker, as if the building itself was aware of the gravity of his quest.