Disclaimer: While this story uses some real world settings and organizations, all characters and events depicted are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real world people or events is entirely coincidental. All original characters are property of Ironfingers. Do not use or reproduce without permission.
Episode 1: Questions
My eyelids felt like bricks. I could hardly lift them, not that I wanted to. There must have been dust shoved in my face or something; every time I opened my eyes, it felt like a rabid cat was clawing at their surface. I was tired. I must have been awake for days. But I guess that's to be expected. It's hard to sleep with someone beating your feet with a steel pipe and punching you in the face every few hours.
"I will ask you again. Who do you work for?" The disembodied voice spoke again. My eyes half-closed, I could see nothing but shadow around me. The harsh whiteness of the interrogation lamp drowned everything else out.
"Whoever pays me," I stated flatly.
"Wrong answer," the voice said. Immediately my head snapped backwards and my vision swam. I think he broke my nose. Gah, blood. I could taste it in my mouth and I could feel it streaming down my face. Definitely broken…
"You are making this much harder than it needs to be. Just tell me who you work for, and we'll let you go."
"I told you already, asshole," I spat. God that was a lot of blood. I spit out more before continuing. "Do you listen with your fists, too?"
"Sarcasm will get you nowhere," he said.
I tightened my gut, waiting for the blow to come there. Instead, my head snapped backwards again. Damn, guessed wrong. The sharp line between light and dark grew fuzzy. My head was starting to hurt and I could feel the swelling around my left eye from the blows. As my vision cleared, I could make out my interrogator's hand. A biohazard triskeleon was tattooed on the back of the palm. Wanker.
"What… do… you… want?" I said gingerly. My speech was slurring. I already had a mild concussion. I had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.
"Simple. I want you to tell me who your employer is."
"Could you be more specific?" I asked. The man growled.
"Hey!" I quickly added. "Easy there, killer…"
The next blow was to the gut. I totally should have seen it coming. I panted for breath. I was fit enough to take the blows, but that didn't stop my body from feeling it. If I ever got out of this, I'd sue for extra workman's comp.
"I'm… just… saying…" I said between coughs, "I've had many… bosses… over the past few years…"
"Which one of them hired you to kill Abdullah?"
"I load trucks and pull security," I said through clenched teeth. That really did hurt a lot. Nausea from the concussion didn't help, either. I was dizzy. Suddenly, I felt the bile rising in my throat. Oh, joy. I leaned forward and blew the day's meal onto the floor in front of my chair. Between coughs and chokes, I managed to get out, "I'm a bodyguard, not an assassin."
"But it was you who killed Abdullah. We have incontrovertible proof." It took me a second to get what he'd said, the guy's accent was so thick. In spite of that, he seemed to have a masterful command of the English language; amazing that a meathead like him could even pull that off.
"What is it? DNA? Fingerprints? The murder weapon?" I panted. "Or are you just looking for a scapegoat so you could sweep this under the rug?"
I saw this one coming. I tightened my gut and took the hit with enough wind left in me to keep talking. "Listen, pal, I don't know who you are," I said with renewed strength. "I don't know where I am, but I do know that I didn't kill your boss."
I heard him draw back to hit me again, but I quickly interjected. "But I can find out who did."
The man hesitated. I smiled to myself. I had gained the initiative. "I have connections. I can find your man."
"How?"
"Like I said, connections. But I can't get to those connections unless you untie me and stop beating me up."
"I will carefully consider your offer."
"Thank you. Now would you mind…" The next one I didn't see coming. My head snapped backwards and I could hear my jaw crack with the impact. I'd be feeling that one in the morning.
"You honestly want me to believe that?" the burly man shouted. He was careful to stay out of the light. I could never see his face, only his arms; arms the size of a gorilla. "Just how stupid do you think I am?"
"It was worth a shot," I mumbled. I immediately regretted it. Why do I have to say what I think?
The next blow came really quickly. No seriously, really quickly. I couldn't hear or see anything coming, all I knew was that it hurt, a lot. My head slumped over to one side. My eyes closed. I couldn't focus or make sense of everything. And I thought I would always be the one to deliver the knockout punch…
