The door closed behind him with a loud, metallic clang. Alter took a single sideways step before leaning heavily against the wall, closing his eyes and emitting a long, juddering breath. One hand snaked upward and covered his eyes for a moment before he recovered the strength to face the room. His three colleagues had not moved from their seats, each presenting him with expressions eager for news.

  “Well, how’d it go?” Whim asked, his voice seeming to have lost some of its earlier enthusiasm in favour of a touch of nerves.

  “About as well as I thought it would. At least he didn’t laugh in my face.” Alter grumbled.

  “Do you think he bought it?” Riptide followed up but Alter merely shrugged.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. The man didn’t let his poker face slide for a moment, and nerves had me speaking so quickly that I never stopped to judge his reaction for more than a second. I think we move ahead with the assumption that he isn’t going to just talk.”

  “I’m already prepared.” Boozehound announced, one hand indicating a small collection of medical devices both mysterious and unsettling.

  “Well that certainly looks like it’ll do the trick. Let's take a moment to sort out what we’re going to do while he’s having a good think in there. If, and it's a big if, he agrees to talk straight away, then I propose I untie him and bring him through here, as a sign of good faith and all that. We can spread the maps out on the table and talk in a slightly more civilised manner. What do you think?”

  “Makes sense to me, I’ll hide my gear for the moment then.” Boozehound began packing his equipment away again.

  “What if he tries to make a break for the door? He probably realises he wouldn’t get far but desperation might drive him to make an attempt regardless.” Riptide commented.

  “We’ve all got our sidearms, and I’ll make sure to impress upon him the fact that running would be a terrible idea. Moving on then, if we get to the singing part then I’ll call Three into the chamber. What’re you going to hit them with?”

  “Two jolt injectors at the same time, followed immediately by a shot of Fortifier. The jolts should elevate his heart rate to around one-eighty to one-ninety for about thirty seconds, which will be more than enough to pump the fort’ all the way round his body. The sudden spike in heartrate, plus the increased awareness and adrenaline side-effect, followed immediately by that floaty sensation? He’ll barely be able to determine which way gravity is pulling him, while simultaneously prepping his body for what might happen should we need to move on.”

  “Sounds a little heavy-handed for a supposed truth serum, don’t you think?” Whim leaned away subconsciously.

  Boozehound made a non-committal noise. “I can’t exactly simulate happiness with this stuff. But I sure am equipped to scare the shit out of someone. We go with what we can do, rather than what we wish we could do.”

  “That’s not exactly how I described it to the bloke, but whatever. Ahhh, okay, the torture part, uhmm.” Alter tailed off as the prospect loomed over him.

  “I can take the lead on that, if you need me to.” Riptide interjected with a sigh. “Also, I’m sure plenty of the men upstairs would be more than willing to lend their expertise to the cause. We could always grab a couple of them and set them loose, under Three’s supervision of course.

  “True, true.” Alter answered, relieved.

  “You’ve dealt with plenty of blood and viscera up until this point, why balk now?” Whim asked, deflecting attention away from his own discomfort.

  “This is different.” Alter snapped back defensively. “This isn’t combat, there’s no kill or be killed necessity at play here. Any violence that occurs here today will be entirely due to our … to my decision.” He corrects himself.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I think we can allow ourselves a five-minute break between sing and scream, that’ll give us some time to finalise what the hell we’re going to do.” Boozehound shrugged.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Let’s just go with that idea before we get too caught up in it all.” Riptide urged. “When do you want to send a message asking for Oliver to come?”

  “At the start of stage three. By the time he arrives he’ll either be needed or we’ll have the information we want nice and freshly extracted. I just hope he consents to us using him like this.” Alter frowned.

  “Then I believe we have no more to discuss at this time. Do you think he’s had long enough to think about it?” Whim nodded towards the interrogation room’s door.

  Alter shook his head, and slowly began to pace around the outskirts of the antechamber as the minutes were slowly whittled down to nothing. Eventually, however, he could not justify another lap as the door stood waiting next to him. With a silent look to Whim, the other man began sifting through the gathered papers and spreading them out across the table. Alter paused for a moment and flexed his fingers before grasping the handle firmly and pushing his way back through. The brown-haired man’s eyes snapped to him as he entered, following him closely as he made his way past him and began fiddling with the gag’s knot at the back of his head. Alter was fully expecting a tirade of insults the moment the fabric fell away, but other than a deep, gasping inhale, there was nothing. He felt a strange sense of curiosity as he completed his circuit of the prisoner before taking his seat again. The man’s skin was pale where the gag has been restricting blood flow through his jaw and cheeks. His lips were still pulled slightly open, but his teeth were clenched tight shut. Thin rivulets of blood could be seen squeezing their way through the gaps in the yellow and red-stained enamel. Alter took this all in, quietly and calmly, before raising his eyes to meet his piercing stare.

  “What is your name?” He asked bluntly.

  The man did not speak, though he did make a sound. A strange, choking hiss was emitted from somewhere deep within his throat. A refusal, and a challenge. Very well, perhaps he would have to ease him into talking about personal details.

  “What city are you currently located within?” Alter offered with a helpful smile which he knew people found to be irritating.

  “What, you lost or something?” The man snarled.

  Alter’s eyebrows rose up in surprise and he clapped his hands together once in celebration. “Excellent, you do have a voice. Let us hope, for your sake, that there are more words forthcoming.” He smiled.

  The man looked off to the side, his face a mask of deep, aggressive contemplation. Alter remained quiet, choosing not to interrupt what must be a highly fraught internal discussion. The man’s face tweaked and twisted, until eventually some unspoken consensus was reached that caused his head to hang low in shame. Then, with a determined gleam in his eyes, he returned his gaze to his captor.

  “I’ve got family.” He admitted. “You get them out, and I’ll talk. But I’m not saying anything until I know they’re safe.”

  Alter sighed and shook his head. “Sadly, that is not how this works. I am under no obligation to make concessions to you, as I previously explained it is merely a question of when, not if, I get what I want to know. Your situation remains unchanged, talk, and be proven correct, then we’ll discuss your family.”

  “No, listen to me.” The man insisted, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. “I’ve got a wife, kinda, we’ve never been officially married. She lives halfway along Patchwork Street, and works in the kitchen of Lord’s Tannery. Once I fail to appear for a few days the boys will come looking for me, and they’ll find her. I’ve never told her anything but they won’t care, because I might have told her, so they’ll take her away and make sure she can never talk.”

  Alter closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his heartstrings to twang and vibrate as empathy plucked delicately at them. Still, he could not so visibly cave to his demands. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He would begin again.

  “What is your name?” He repeated, a little more forcefully this time.

  The man’s jaw worked invisibly, frustration brewing and bubbling. “Richard. Richard Fieldwatch.” He stammered.

  “Thank you, Mr Fieldwatch. You’re saving more than one life today. Before we continue, let me ask you something a little different. If I were to untie you, and show you into the next room, would you promise not to do anything foolish? Like attacking me, or attempting to run?”

  Richard snorted. “Of course, I’m not stupid.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest such a thing.” Alter smiled as he slowly stood. “But I just want to make it perfectly clear. Any attempt at either assault or escape will result in your immediate recapture. As a result of such an attempt, not only will I refuse to rescue your wife, we’ll also just skip straight to the torture part, shall we?”

  “That’s fine with me.” Richard growled as Alter began the fiddly process of undoing the knots that restrained him.

  One by one the lengths of rope fell away, eventually the last, stubborn knot was released and Richard hauled himself to his feet while gently nursing his wrists.

  “Alright, lead the way.”