Blood-Tainted Roses

I: Retrograde Reality

I

"Retrograde Reality"

Max--November 2011

"Where is he hiding?" Max asked calmly. The dim room grew eerily silent as his men halted all actions. They knew what was coming next. "I'll ask one more time. Where is your leader hiding?" he questioned, voice dangerously dropping. Mentally, he was guffawing at the cheekiness of his own words, but his physical appearance showed none of his scattered insides.

Being in the office and out of it called for a switch in attitude and Max wasn't about to change the way he worked to get a good word in. No one knew him outside of work anyways-things were made simpler that way. Everyone who had known him was in New York or had made their way across the River Styx a long time ago.

Max's expression changed subtly. When he asked the first question, he'd meant to convey his words as an authoritative figure. Now, his mind clicked.

'For Pierce,' he reminded himself.

Felix, although intimidated by the clear contempt on the agent's face, refused to speak. He shook his head and wriggled against the handcuffs keeping him locked in place. Sweat dribbled down his forehead and clotted the orange inmate outfit clothing him. Max turned the blinding interrogation lamp into his eyes.

"Tell me the truth," he ordered, gritting his teeth loud enough to project he was not in the mood for a lengthy conversation. In fact, Special Agent Warren shouldn't have been in the interrogation room at all, for his lack of discipline over his own anger often got the better of him.

It hadn't been a problem before. Well, back when he was still studying for his Bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice-college. He always had that one close friend who kept him sane and in check. Matter-of-fact, that friend was the only reason he'd decided to go into the profession. Max's mind drifted from the criminal in front of him to his long-time M.I.A. buddy and back in record time. He hadn't forgotten the favor he owed; he'd do anything to repay him.

"I-I d-don't know," the convict stuttered, avoiding the angry glint in his eyes.

Max raised an eyebrow directed to the chief director who was watching the scene from behind a one-sided window. By his body reactions, Max could tell he had this interrogation in the bag-all cockiness aside. The chief nodded gruffly and strode off to his office. He knew Max's capabilities as well as anyone cared to know.

The special agent mercilessly slammed his palms into the metal table. The impact resonated through the interrogation room and successfully startled everyone watching as well as the man bound by his handcuffs. His arms were shaking now, eyes flittering everywhere and nowhere all at once. He searched for an escape from this hellhole, but relented to the obvious fear radiating off him.

"Where is he?!" Max shouted, leaning forward on the table. The man opposite of him broke down into a fit of dry sobs and heaving. "Where is Leon Hunt hiding?"

"He's in New York!" he choked out, finally relenting. He breathed in tight rasps, eyes squeezing shut in guilty surrender. Then, they shot open warily eyeing his reflection in the one-sided window in disbelief at his betrayal. He crossed his arms over his head protectively. "They're going to kill me," he whispered. "They're coming for me!" he hollered, frantically searching for help.

Max nodded towards the agents standing guard at the door and gestured for them to take the prisoner back to his cell. They gladly ushered the criminal out of the room and congratulated him on a job well done. He sent them both smirks to compensate for their congratulatory words and exited the room. Max smiled curtly and nodded at his colleagues before taking the elevator to a lower level. He was almost done for the night.