I. The Interrogation.

Darrus stepped to the side and the bullet shot past, tearing through dry wall and masonry over his shoulder.

“Now, I’ve warned you.” he said. “Stop that immediately.”

Rass put the barrel of the gun in his mouth.

“Come, come.” said Darrus. “I think we both know how empty a threat that is. Now, are you ready to act like an adult?”

Rass bit the barrel harder. Darrus knodded at Lemuel. Lemuel backhanded Rass, knocking the gun out of Rass’ hand and across the floor. Rass reached for it and Lemuel’s foot came down to the sound of crunching bone.

“No, you don’t deserve it any longer.” said Darrus.

Rass whimpered and Lemuel lifted his foot. Cradling the injured hand, Rass spoke around his tears. “Why are you doing this?”

“The question is why you are making me do this. Give me what I want and this can all end.”

“I’ve told you everything I know!” wailed Rass.

“I rather doubt that.” replied Darrus, his face as blank as ever.

Rass’ cries degenerated into sobs. After a moment, Darrus nodded at Lemuel and the larger man kicked Rass’ abdomen.

“I think that perhaps you do not grasp the seriousness of the situation.” said Darrus. “Now stand up.”

“I can’t!” howled Rass. “My leg is broken!”

Darrus went over to Rass. “Really, I ask nothing of you that you haven’t asked of another.”

Rass looked up at Darrus. “But…but that was a lifetime ago! I’ve changed! I have a wife, a family! Please, just let me go!”

Darrus nodded. Rass covered his face with his damaged hand, waiting for a blow that never came. Lemuel picked up the gun and handed it to Darrus.

“Lower your arm.” said Darrus. Rass kept it raised. Darrus shot him in the shoulder. The bullet tore through nerves and sinew, disconnecting the arm from Rass’ brain. It fell limply to his side, blood seeping from the wound.

“One thing your time in combat has taught you,” said Darrus, ignoring Rass’ moans of pain, “is to avoid asking certain questions. The question that I am expecting you to ask is not one of them.” He pulled back the hammer and pointed the muzzle at Rass’ remaining arm. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Rass’ sweat, blood, and fear could be smelled in the room. His mind raced, but ultimately went blank.

“It is something you think you already know.” said Darrus, his arm not moving a millimeter.

Rass’ mind grasped at straws. He heard the material of Darrus’ glove begin to crinkle, slowly pulling back the trigger.

“Who do you work for?” Rass blurted.

Darrus’ hand didn’t move, but he spoke. “Be more specific; who do you think I’m working for?”

“The Separatists!”

Darrus lowered the pistol. “Very good.”

Darrus snapped his fingers. Rass closed his eyes, bracing for a blow. Instead, his pain ceased. When Rass opened his eyes, his body was unharmed.

“Now.” said Darrus. “Do you remember a man you killed, back when you first brought Renquist to power?”

“How did you—“ Rass said, looking at his restored limbs. Darrus shot him in the hand, shattering it.

“Answer the question.” he said.

Rass squeezed the wounded appendage. “Fix it! Fix it, you bastard!”

Darrus fired six bullets in response; two into the wounded arm, one in each leg, two in the torso.

“Answer the question.” he repeated.

“I killed a lot of people back then!” Rass wailed.

“Yes. Yes, you did. This particular man looked much as I do. His name was Darius Briggs. You remember him now?”

“Please, fix me, I’m dying!” pleaded Rass.

Darrus shot him in the shoulder and said once more, “Answer the question.”

“No! I don’t remember him!” screamed Rass.

“The last words he said before you put eleven bullets in his skull were, ‘I’ll see you in Hell.’”

A look of realization showed on Rass’ pain-contorted face. “I remember him now.”

Darrus snapped his fingers. Rass’ pain ceased and he heaved a sigh of relief. Not a moment later, Darrus shot Rass with more bullets a gun that size should be able to hold. Pain became Rass’ whole existence. Just as he started to slip away, the sound of snapping fingers reached him, eerily clear. The pain stopped.

Rass breathed heavily, opening his eyes to Darrus, still holding the weapon. “What the hell are you?” he rasped.

“What if I told you that Darius Briggs never broke his word?” Darrus whispered.

Rass’ stomach sank. “Let me go! Let me out of here!”

“No.” said Darrus. It was a statement of irrefutable fact. “You’re not going anywhere. In fact, you’re going to be here for a very, very long time.”