A Web of Lies, A Rainbow Six Story

Part 10: Progress and Regress (Part Two)

There is no hunting like the hunting of man. And those who have hunted armed men long enough, and liked it, never really care for anything else.-Hemingway.

Marco

A tray of food sits in front of me. I don't remember who put it there, or when. I haven't bothered touching it yet. Haven't so much as looked at it. My gaze is focused solely on the man sitting on the other side of the one way glass. Rocco stares straight back at me through the mirrored glass, a little smirk tugging his mouth up in one corner. The glass is bulletproof.

And the only thought in my mind is how badly I want to crush his skull against that same glass to see which one shatters first.

It doesn't help that his very prescence is wreaking havoc on me. On the outside I look the same as always, but inside my mind is nothing but anarchy. The whispers are all I hear, screaming at me to give in to the darkness, to slaughter the familiar man at the table.

Kill him! Break every bone in his body. Hang him from the ceiling and strip the flesh from his bones. Make him suffer, make him bleed, make him BEG for death.

He deserves it.

For once, I agree with the whispers.

Six's replacement sits across from Rocco, Thatcher standing just behind him. 3 hours have passed since Thatcher had shoved him roughly into that seat. They've gotten nothing from Rocco.

Not his name.

Not his connection to me.

Nothing.

I'm seething with fury just looking at the smug piece of shit, seeing those familiar steely eyes fixed on where he knows I stand. It's straining my control to its limits and then some, but I can't walk away from this now. But one question still gnaws at me, weighing heavily on my mind.

Why the fuck would he come here?

Rocco isn't stupid enough not to keep tabs on me as best he can. So I don't doubt that he at least suspected that I was in England. And while I can describe Rocco with an endless number of words, stupid is decidedly not one of them.

"What game are you playing Rocco?" I mutter to myself.

The sound of the door opening behind me pulls me back to reality, and I glance over to find Thatcher leaning against the wall behind me. He studies me for a long moment before letting out a sigh.

"If I ask you who he is," Thatcher begins. "What are the odds that you'll tell me?"

"They're not in your favour Thatcher." I respond in a cold, detatched voice.

"Well," Thatcher says opening the door to leave. "He's not going anywhere tonight mate. You should go get some rest."

I shake my head, but Thatcher insists that he'll find me the moment they start questioning him again tomorrow. With that in mind I finally start to leave, before remembering something.

"Still afraid of the dark Rocco?" I murmer to myself as I flip the light switch for the interrogation room, plunging him into darkness. I can practically hear his fear rising within him as the blackened silence blankets him.

Fear, The whispers chant in delight. Make him feel terror! MAKE HIM SCREAM!

"Let's see how well you sleep now." I chuckle lowly as I close the door behind me.

The new Six stops me as I pass his office on my way to my room.

"I would like a word for a moment if you don't mind." He says calmly.