The room was void of solace; the walls bare brick with a stereotypical stainless steel table centered in the room. The man was visibly nervous, sweating profusely as he fidgeted in his pocket. He pulled out a pack of smokes. “Do you mind?” he asked.
“No not at all,” I said while I looked over his file. “In fact, I might join you.”
I pulled the cigar from my inside jacket pocket. It was smooth and long, Winston Churchill style. The man was still fumbling around his pocket for a light. He groped himself wildly searching with desperation.
“Allow me.” I said smiling warmly while taking my case of black matches out. His cigarette shifted in his mouth from the appreciative grin he gave as fire engulfed the tip. He inhaled slowly, a wave of calmness swept over him, “Is there a reason you were so nervous a moment ago Mr. Miller?” I said while lighting my cigar, turning it back and forth, puffing slow until the end’s cherry was bright red.
“I’ve just heard that the heads of your operations don’t... don’t last long sir. But... I’m greatly honored by the opportunity and I won’t let you down.” He said.
The Casa Fuente cigar had now bathed me in sweet smoke. It barged into every inch of the room overtaking the cigarette’s cheap odor, until only it existed. “It says here that you have no wife or children?”
“Yes sir, women don’t love a workaholic,” he said.
“Or an alcoholic, for that matter,” I chimed in. “Says here you’ve been given multiple citations for drinking on the job.”
“It’s never effected my work, I just need one to stop the shaking,” he said.
He was from a dead generation. The man was hard and anything but green. A little rough around the edges but I liked him. He wasn’t the typical Boy Scout that wanted the position. “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” I said. The man nodded and I walked out pressing a button as I exited that lifted a wall panel revealing one-way mirror glass. This allowed him to see the room next door. He watched as I walked into a similar adjacent room with an identical chair, except this chair had a man tied to it.
I had become bored with interrogation almost two decades ago. Nothing changed and it’s always the same results. Breaking a man was easy and I used to take pride in how fast I could do it but now it became routine. A day job that you had already figured out and were craving something new, but there were always protocols. What made me so good was the research I did into each of my employees to find out what would break them.
“James, how have you been? I heard we had a little mishap in sector seven’s lower quarter,” I said. “They were aided by a professional. His EMP shock was military grade and knocked out our systems completely,” the man said.
“So you allowed Gothamsreckoning to escape?” I said cutting him off. My head began to throb a bit. She escaped your so-called genius plan. She’ll bite you, you know... She’ll bite you just like that bitch did when you were little. It’s always a cry for help with you. Weakness coursing through your veins. You think hiring someone else will change that? Have some self-respect and end your miserable existence. I shook my head wildly slamming my fist against the table. “One year of surveillance, three units working around the clock, the location of her main headquarters with full support and a confirmation of the target’s exact location,” I said.
The man began to grovel, his voice shaking and desperate, his contagious weakness poisoning the room. “Sir, we can acquire the target again.”
“Did you at least identify the unknown?” I asked.
“V...voice recognition came back negative, there wasn’t enough time to get a visual before the EMP burst. He had to have been military sir. He reacted to one of the officers engaging his armor piercing rounds prematurely. I tried to ping him but he must have been Special Ops... before the chip implants. No finger prints, no DNA matches, no bullets fired, the man was a ghost. Give me one more chance sir. I promise I won’t let you down,” he said while his eyes began to tear up a bit.
“Normally in this situation I would slit your throat and watch your life pour out before you but my Brioni suit might get soiled.”
“I couldn’t do anything sir... I recovered the best I could...I just...” he said.
“There, there...” I said sliding in behind him, blowing my cigars smoke over his shoulder like a dragon. It stung his already tearing eyes. “I know it wasn’t your fault and you’ve done well over the last year.” I grabbed a loose rope that dangled above his neck and pulled it hard around his throat. His legs and arms shook furiously as saliva danced in the back of his throat. “I won’t accept failure when all the cards are stacked in your favor. I’ll send a sweet letter to your wife and kids saying you served bravely in your line of duty.” His eyes shot open, probably grasping onto the last image he could conjure of their faces, but at that precious moment I fish hooked them with my middle and pointer fingers. They gave way to the force easy enough, squirting white mucus like fluid onto the desk in front of us as my fingers forced their way deeper into the concave of his eye sockets, encouraged by his screams. His precious memories were erased by the piercing pain he now felt.
I loved taking that moment from people. That one last moment for them to give their final goodbyes and to remember what was truly precious to them before death. It could be taken by simply applying the right amount of pain. Before he could recover from the piercing pain, I snapped his neck.
After wiping my hands off on my handkerchief, I picked up the case file and walked coolly back to the other room where Mr. Miller was now standing in disbelief. His eyes quivered as they traced my steps to the opposite side of the table. I slipped into my chair in a calm manner and asked, “Just wanted to make sure, you did tell me earlier that you wouldn’t let me down correct?” The man nodded slowly and uncomfortably. “Good... That’s good. You start tomorrow. Here is a case file on Gothamsreckoning. Study it and be ready for your next assignment.” I shook his hand and exited the room.