Gallagher Girls

Trapped

Zach's POV

I wake up in a cell. That's the first thing that comes trough my mind as I scan the room. A 15 by 10 foot cement room. There's a 6 by 4 inch opening for what must be food or talking. But I realize that part of the wall can be opened from the other side. I can hear the faint buzzing on the other side of the wall. Good, I think, there must be electricity. I'm looking at my surroundings when my head feels as if it's about to implode. I wince and touch where my wound must be. It's bleeding but there's stitches. They're not the best but they close what seems to be a minor wound. Damn, I silently curse myself. Whoever has me must not be on my side because, well- you know, prison cell and the chains which I just saw on my right ankle. So they are against me, and treating me which tells me they want me for something far worse.
I get up and walk around to see if anything else is hurt. It into seems to be my head. I check my back pocket and fish out my wallet. Why wouldn't they take it? I open it up see what is left in it. My money and cards are gone. Everything but my CIA badge and the photos of my family. I flip my badge around to scan it
Zachary A. Goode
1997-
31 yrs
ID #- 122970
Date issued- 9/1/15
////Authors Note - please note that this is in the future. But not a lot will have changed economically or anything( like teleport and flying) So the year is 2028///
I turn to the back hoping for something but it's just as it used to be.
Gender- M
Height- 6'4
Personal Contact-
Operative Cameron A. Morgan

They don't say "green eyes", "brown hair", or anything of a basic description. As most spies know, if you don't want to be found you'll go undercover. And by the small ID picture of me, I'm pretty sure you can guess it. I'm running my head off with thoughts when u hear footsteps and start to think
Number of Ways I can escape: 58
Number of ways that I can escape that will not get me killed: 0
I hear the foot steps come closer as I realize that my chains bound to my ankle can't even get me a foot from the door. 15 ft.. 10 ft... 5 ft... The door swings wide open and a man in protective gear steps in with 2 guns in his belt (Mk-31 and a M45-600).
"Goode" his voice is deep but dry. I look up and cock my head to the side, intently staring at him. He signals the guards to leave and to close the door. I can see the key in his hand. He even let's me know that he knows.
"Oh this?," He chuckles, holding up the key then putting it back into his hand.
"You can never get this, even if you could reach me" he tells me and leans against the wall. Either to put me at ease or to make me nervous, which does neither. I close my eyes and try to think of an escape to get back to Cam, to the kids, to my family. I hear him move so I open them back up.
"What time is it?" I ask him. I know that if he was trained, he'd never tell a prisoner the time or day.
" It's November 16th 6:30. It's about 42 degrees where we are too" I know he is incredibly dumb or smart. He must know what he's doing. A unaware agent might tell you the day or that it's night, but he gave my the degrees and the exact time. He could be lying, to throw me off my game but I doubt it. There's a heater that was buzzing from when He opened up the door, so it is cold. I know that he's  trained.
"How about the location or maybe the coordinates while you're at it" I smirk. One of the only pros you get from being a prisoner is that, believe it or not, they are usually the ones that the captors are scared of. I'm unpredictable. They need me. I'm dangerous. I have an advantage. But the agent just smiles
"How about I ask the questions, Goode,"
"Case #53, the one I believe you had just been on, how much did you know?" He asks. No one actually expects us to really talk, it's just to get the interrogation going.
"Just the basics, the file" I respond without missing a beat. He rolls up his sleeves.
"Oh, I think we both know it's much more than that"