How to Escape an Assassin

30: Where Beasts Live Pt. 1

When I regained consciousness, I was in a dark room with a cot. The back of my head was throbbing, and my wrists were cuffed behind my back. Panic immediately coursed through me since I had no idea where I was or if I was alone.

"Is anyone there?" I asked into the void. Then a door opened, filling the room with light as four tall, suited men with bald heads and stoic expressions marched in. One of the men held the door open. Another man approached me.

"Milan Lee. You are in a secure government facility and being held for questioning. If at any point you do not cooperate with our interrogation process, you will be immediately killed." The man spoke with resonance and authority.

I couldn't even begin to understand what was going on. "Sorry, what?" I asked in sheer bewilderment. "You're interrogating me? I-... in that case I need to have a lawyer present."

The man snatched a pistol out of the holster on his hip, and held it centimeters away from my forehead. "That's not how things work here. You see, this isn't a police station or a courthouse. So I repeat, if at any point you fail to cooperate with our interrogation process, you will immediately be killed. I won't repeat myself again."

I tried to gulp, but my throat was too dry. "Okay," I responded timidly.

"Get up and follow us," he said.

I wiggled off of the cot and fell on my knees. I was still in my fat suit costume, so my coordination was off. There was no hope for me to get out of this kneeling position on my own.

One of the men came over and aided me to my feet.

"Thank you," I said. He gave a nod in acknowledgment.

I followed them down a maze of white hallways that had no windows. There were bulletin boards and notices along the wall. I froze when I saw one of the flyers advertising an informational meeting for prospective members of the "Ghost Fan Club." It included a stunning photoshopped image of Tristan's side profile, and his expression looked cold and lifeless in it.

And then it hit me. I had been abducted by Tristan's agency of assassins, and they were going to interrogate me. My heart rate spiked and my breathing quickened. I started creating imaginary scenarios in my head, and none of them ended well. I started whispering frantically to myself to calm myself down.

"Shut up," a man next to me barked.

"Cool it, V." It was the same man who helped me up.

Different groups of suited men and women walked by us as we continued through the hallways. Some wore traditional black and white suits, others wore tight one-piece full body leather suits. A few had clipboards or briefcases. They chatted casually in quiet tones. None of them spared a glance my way.

They led me into a room that was laid out like a classroom. There were seven or eight black chairs and desks equally spaced out on the linoleum tile, facing a large TV screen. I squinted under the harsh LED ceiling light. After I entered with the four men, a large number of other men and women flowed into the room. I counted at least thirty in total. They gathered into a crowd at the back of the room and openly gawked at me like I was a museum exhibit.

"This has to be some kind of joke, right? You mean to tell me that this librarian-cat lady-looking thing in front of us somehow outsmarted Ghost of all people?"

"I call bullsh*t. This can't be the right woman."

"They already checked the prints and ID. It's her. She's just wearing a hilarious costume."

"This is pure gold."

"Ghost is ranked number one out of thousands of assassins in our agency nationally. An untrained civilian beating him is out of the question. Why didn't he kill her?"