The Supposed Terrorist

Chapter 17

Rico's POV

When I regained my consciousness, I didn't try to move an inch. I couldn't move an inch. My face rested against the cold floor and all was dark. My head felt heavy and opening my damn eyes felt like the biggest task. Time passed, as I, half conscious, laid against the floor. What was it..? 10 minutes..? 15...? I couldn't bother myself to think...

Then suddenly, I remembered what events led me to this position. Drat! I couldn't afford to give in to infernal body impulses.

Ten buckets of willpower, 4 mugs of force and a pinch of self-cursing later, I was on my feet. The world was going round and round. Heck, the world was double! Oh my god!

I shook my head hard and the two worlds united into one. Massaging my temples, I observed the place I was in.

The room was completely gray, with bare walls and an iron door on one wall, the wooden on another facing it. I stood right in the middle, ten steps away from each. It felt like a scene from a creepy 'which door would you choose' youtube video. In one corner far far up, a CCTV camera blinked red, and in the corner opposite to it, a speaker hung. I considered waving into the camera, but then dropped the idea.

'Rico, you are awake! Why, hello!' A voice echoed from the speaker and reverberated in the whole room.

It was a man's. It wasn't Artem's. So, I got a bit confused as to who could sound happy and excited about me being awake. It did sound weirdly familiar.

'Oh, don't be confused, do you know me?'

"...Um," I said. "Not sure."

'Lovely answer, I am so proud of myself.'

This was getting creepy.

I suddenly noticed my vest was extremely light. Carefully, I pressed against it.

No gun. Shit.

If my gun wasn't with me... it was with Sebastian, the black coat man or Artem.

I sure hope it's with Artem.

'Rico, look into the camera.'

"What if I refuse?"

'You have nothing better to do, and it would make no difference. I can see you anyway.'

"Who are you?" I asked.

'The man who made you what you are today.'

The emotions that crept up on my neck after hearing his each word, I couldn't put my finger on them. Unfathomable, but not nice.

"I need you to be a little bit more direct than that, buddy."

'That tone of yours... You are still the same. Nothing changes you and yet everything does. No wonder you are so alive even after 5 years.'

"Who. Are. You."

'Enter through the door, and you will find me.'

What other choice did I even have?

Hesitantly, I turned and walked towards the iron door.

'No, the wooden one. The iron one is locked. That's the one through which Jove dropped you here.'

Jove, that must be the man who knocked me out.

I changed my direction and reached the wooden door.

'Enter, enter! I can't wait no more!'

Head throbbing, I turned the doorknob and the door opened with a soft click.

A man, about in his late 50s, stood facing me. His brown hair had streaks of gray, a suburban dad smile playing on face, as his eyes glinted with something I couldn't read.

I peered in and the room was relatively smaller to the one I was just in. There was a massive glass window in front of which shelves were placed in a semi-circle. A lot of wires dangled out of dozens of drawers. A monitor was stationed on the table, showing the live footage of the previous room.

"Rico." The man spread his hands in a manner that was supposed to be welcoming, and then tapped at the center of his chest. "Michael Grant. How are you?"

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