"You have all been chosen to come here because of your interrogation skills." the military officer continued. "You are experienced agents, and we have full trust in your capabilities."
Agent West gulped. They must not have taken a good look at my file, he thought nervously. I've only been an agent for about a year!
"This facility is filled with prisoners who have been deemed by the government to be a threat to our national security, and we need you to find out if they have any affiliations with anyone else we need to take into custody. Plain and simple."
"If it's so simple, what do you need us for?" one of the agents asked, annoyed at the officer.
"In theory, the task seems easy, but these prisoners aren't like any you've ever encountered." The officer paused, intently scanning the faces of the agents in an attempt to make them feel uncomfortable. "The information I'm about to give you is classified as top secret. You are forbidden to divulge any of it to anyone. If you do, you would be considered traitors to the United States of America."
"We understand," another agent remarked impatiently. Just tell us already!"
The officer took a step towards the agent and looked at him sternly. After a moment or two, he went back to his original place in the center of the room.
"About a year ago, Senator Nathan Petrelli, the namesake of this facility, divulged information to the President regarding the existence of regular private citizens with…. abnormal abilities. Some kind of irregular genetic structure is capable of giving people special skills, apparently. Petrelli was able to provide enough information to prove their existence, and the President decided that they posed a serious threat to our nation. Because of this, the President ordered that all 'special' humans, as they are sometimes called, be captured and imprisoned. This facility is one of many prisons that contain these mutated humans."
This is unreal, Agent West thought, shocked. It can't be true…
One of the other agents snickered. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked mockingly. "It's impossible! This is the real world, not some freaking comic book!"
"I assure you, this is very real. If you want, I would be more than happy to send you back to your old assignment- and your old paycheck."
The agent was silent.
"Very well, then. Here's your prisoner's file." The officer handed the agent a file titled "Daphne Millbrook". He proceeded to hand each agent a file. "A guard will lead you to your prisoners' cells. Good luck. You are providing a great service to your nation."
Agent West glanced down at the file he held in his hand. It was titled "Lucy Tyler". As he began to open the file, a man in a non-military guard uniform approached him.
"Agent West, right?" the guard asked impatiently.
Agent West nodded.
"The name's Hudson. I'm the guard in charge of Section 4- that's where your prisoner is. Let's get moving."
Agent West followed Hudson through the narrow, dingy halls of the prison. Hudson was a hefty man, and he seemed to be pretty cumbersome while he was walking.
"So, Hudson," Agent West asked, "what kind of people are kept in Section 4?"
"They're all the same- a bunch of freaks," Hudson replied arrogantly, chewing gum obnoxiously with his mouth open. "There's no rhyme or reason when it comes to organizing the prisoners here. All the cells are maximum security. When there's an opening, we fill it."
After a few more minutes of walking, the two men arrived at a large, metal door with the phrase "Section 4" painted on it with black, peeling paint.
"Here it is, West," Hudson remarked tiredly. "Home sweet home."