ELYSIUM

I

Aiden Grey

Present

_____________________________________________

I walked down the stark white halls of our containment facility, my footsteps reverberating through the empty space.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, casting an unforgiving glare on the smooth, sterile walls. Each step sent a dull ache up my legs, a nagging reminder that I was still sore from the ambush two days ago. What was supposed to be an easy retrieval mission had turned into a nightmare, and now three of my men were laid up in the hospital, barely holding on.

The air felt thick with an unsettling mix of antiseptic and tension, as if the facility itself knew the stakes. The floors were a stark, polished white, reflecting the harsh lights above, giving everything an unnatural, almost clinical feel. Security cameras blinked from every corner, their red LEDs a constant reminder that I was being watched. As I passed by the reinforced glass cells lining the corridor, I caught glimpses of the criminals inside, some pacing restlessly, others slumped against the walls, their eyes hollow and unfocused.

I could feel my frustration bubbling beneath the surface. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to be here, dragging my beaten body down these damn halls to watch someone interrogate a criminal who should've been hauled away to prison. Every breath I took seemed to emphasize the bruised ribs I was still nursing, but I refused to let the pain show. Not now.

I could hear the distant hum of machinery from the control room and the low murmurs of guards stationed in various parts of the facility, their conversations laced with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. I could see the double doors at the end of the hall, where the interrogation room lay waiting, and the thought of what was to come tightened my chest.

As I reached the door, the guards on either side stood at attention, their eyes fixed forward. I could sense their unease, the silent acknowledgment of the chaos that had unfolded during the mission. They had seen what happened, and they knew I wasn't in the mood for small talk. I straightened my posture, pushing down the anger and pain, steeling myself for what was to come. I had to get answers. There were lives at stake, and I wouldn't let their sacrifice be in vain.

I nodded to the guard, pushing the heavy door open and stepping inside the interrogation room.

A few agents were already seated on a long, simple bench facing the empty interrogation room, their expressions a mix of impatience and resolve. The room itself was stark, with bare walls painted a dull gray, a single table at the center, and a single chair opposite it, illuminated by a harsh overhead light that made it look like a spotlight on a stage.

The other agents leaned forward slightly, their gazes fixed on the empty chair as if it held the secrets they desperately wanted to uncover. The tension in the air was palpable, and I could feel the weight of their anticipation.

I glanced around, taking in the serious faces of my colleagues. Then, my eyes landed on director Briggs standing at the front of the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was a tall man, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back neatly, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to scan the room with the kind of intensity that could make anyone squirm. He wore a crisp, dark suit that looked far too formal for a place like this, as if he was more suited to a boardroom than a containment facility.

"Nice of you to join us, Grey," he said, his voice smooth but laced with irritation.

My internal eye roll was almost audible as I glanced at the clock on the wall: 11:01. Really? I was one minute late and here he was, acting like I had kept the entire operation waiting for an hour.