Capture Me

The Dark Side Of The Good

Ryder

Gid was sitting on one of the red couches when we arrived at the office. This office was different from where Nara went the last time. Last time was at the top floor of the building, this time it was on the fifth underground floor and my wife wouldn't let go of my hand after insisting that she walk this time, said that it looked like some mad scientists resided on the area because the entire floor was painted white and looked eerie. And well, it three AM so it was dead silent.

I almost wanted to tell her that there were mad scientists in here, us, because this was where the interrogations took place and all measures were used to gain information. Upon getting off the elevator, there were rooms just after the hallway, these doors, you didn't wanna know what was happening in them, screams, shouts or any noise couldn't be heard outside because the rooms were soundproof, man, woman, teen—it didn't matter—just that after the interrogator gathered intel and gone out, the subject was either broken or dead, or better or unharmed since they talked and ratted from the beginning, but I didn't want to trouble her already nervous mind.

"Yo, Ryde." He greeted and smiled at Nara who, in return smiled back. "Got what you asked." He didn't bother standing up, just pointed to two paper bags casually placed beside him, one with a picture of a slipper and the other an expensive shoe brand I knew. "Just go straight right in. Boss, is waiting in his office." I nodded.

I let Nara's hands go and watched her sit on the couch in front of Gid. "You're safe here, Gid's with you." I reassured her.

My wife just nodded.

Upon confirming that she's at least a bit at ease, I walked towards the mahogany door with golden knob, opened it and entered. The last thing I heard was Nara saying hi to Gid before the door closed behind me.

The absence of furniture inside didn't bother me—got used to it—it was just the boss's big ass table and the two chairs placed in front of it. No windows too, nor one of those wallpapers that portray a city seemingly out a window.

"Ryder." My superior and one of the minds behind this organization, Anthony Garick. A man in his late fifties, six-foot four-inches tall, built like a wrestler, and with a thick, buzz-cut, salt and pepper hair. He was seated behind his desk, with his hands resting on the arm-rest of his chair. His black on black suit and pink-stripped-white tie didn't make him any less dangerous.

His voice was a little bit scratchy due to the surgeries he had to undergo to repair his vocal chords. He was captured by terrorists in Thailand and was tortured, when they couldn't get any information, they slit his throat. It was not indicated how he survived just that when he was fully healed, he went back and took the organization out by himself. That was according to people that worked with him, I didn't know if it was true but he had a long scar under his chin.

"Sir." I stood in front of his humongous desk.

"The subject wouldn't give in. She asks for you, son. Said she'll only tell you everything." She. Cassandra was still here? I thought she was moved to a secured facility to be incarcerated?

He must've seen the question in my eyes because he answered them. "We cannot move her just yet. There are a lot more information she's withholding and she wouldn't talk."

"Where is she, sir?"

"She's at 516."

I just nodded at that. I didn't leave yet because I was not yet given permission to.

Garick opened one drawer in the side of his desk and handed a brown file folder to me. "Intel reported that there will be a shipment arriving at one of the docks here in New York, confirmed that the container holds high grade cocaine and smuggled teenagers from Russia. A trade will happen there, too. It was not specified what will be traded if it's the people or the drugs-or both."