There had been an unmistakable tension spreading through every corner of the large homicide bullpen, as Horatio was brought in, then seated in the northwest interrogation room near the Sergeant's station.

Many faces were turned toward the mysterious young man, recently de-masked, causing a slight disappointment amongst the four detectives when he wasn't anybody they'd met before in the pursuit of their killer.

Instead, the twenty-something man with the aura of a medieval knight and the manners to prove it, was decidedly unkempt, a spotty 3-day beard covering his face that hadn't seen a shower or washcloth in a while. Body odor and filth from his clothes quickly spread through the interrogation room that didn't offset the smell quite as well as the cigarette-smoke laden bar area had previously.

And there he'd been sitting for the past forty-five minutes, not saying a single word despite his previous vocal complaints, staring straight ahead and staying so still that he almost looked like a statue.

Mike's interview had turned into a monologue, tossing out accusations aimed to coax a reaction out of the man, showing off graphic pictures of their victims, discussing the connection they'd discovered between Horatio's remarks and the method of murder.

Behind him, Steve was leaning against the window overlooking downtown, arms crossed over his chest, one hand rubbing his cheek impatiently.

And yet, there was no reaction to the Lieutenant's aggressive approach, as the man stubbornly continued his oath of silence.

"You might think that killing these people has some sort of noble meaning in the era you seem to cherish so much.", Mike began again and paced the length of the interrogation room, "But you see, in this century, it is considered homicide, 1st degree murder, an automatic life sentence."

Considering his disturbing quietness, they had checked the man's pockets for an ID upon arrival at headquarters, but found none. No receipts, membership cards or the like could be found on his body either.

Resorting to the last trick left at his disposal, Mike had placed a glass of water in front of the young man, anxiously waiting for him to take a sip in order to run finger prints.

He knew they were playing with an extremely short window of time.

The man wasn't under arrest, no charges could be filed based on his remarks, so legally, they couldn't hold him. Thankfully, without the need to read him his rights and mentioning the opportunity for legal counsel, the man hadn't demanded a lawyer yet.

Leaning back against the window next to Steve, Mike looked deeply into those brown eyes, so full of arrogance, downright gleefulness about the current situation.

Nearly thirty years on the force told him that deep behind that layer of false confidence were a lot of answers to the questions burning in the back of his mind.

Getting to them would be the hard part though.

"Just what made you so mad at Rudy McMillan that you killed him?", he tried again, hands pressed onto the window sill, a faint smile on his lips to offset the hostility they were faced with, "Was it his nighttime hobbies? The donations? Or was it Eric you hated more than anything, and you tried to get to Eric by killing his father?"

A slight twitch of Horatio's lips was his only answer, and Mike was about to continue the bombardment of questions, when he saw a figure on the other side of the interrogation room door. Sekulovich had his hand raised, carefully knocking on the doorframe, waiting for permission to enter. Upon his faint nodding, the Sergeant came in, then pointed at the bullpen.

"Got a call for you out here, Steve."

Sharing an ominous glance with his partner, the young Inspector followed Sekulovich out the door, before disappearing behind the rows of desks, leaving Mike and his peculiar witness alone.

"You see, we're tying all these lose ends together as we speak.", the Lieutenant said confidently, all his senses cued on the defiant man in front of him, "My partner…he's out there right now talking to another witness. Next up, he'll get the prosecutor's office involved. But before warrants get signed and arrests are made, you could help us out a lot. Because we'll figure out the truth regardless. But depending on your involvement in all this, any help would look favorable in front of the judge."

Again, he was greeted with only a fleeting attempt at a cocky smile, a slight curl on the corner of Horatio's lip.

"You might think you're in charge here, that being silent will somehow help you out. But let me tell you something, young man."

With a facetious grin, Mike tapped his index finger on the table, happy to see Horatio following his move.

"You see, I've been with the department for a long time. Seen many wise guys come through here, thinking they can play us. Thinking they're smarter. Thinking we don't have enough evidence. And they were all wrong. Think about it, kid. We wouldn't have brought you in, if we didn't already have evidence that ties you into this. We brought you in, because we wanted to give you the opportunity to clear your name, tell us your side of the story, before we throw the book at you. So, what's it going to be? You're going to sit here staring at me for the next few hours, or how about we get this mess all cleared up?"

He wasn't expecting a reaction after an hour of playing mind games with Horatio, knowing that somebody who had been in a position of superiority for one reason or another wouldn't budge under a bit of police pressure.

And yet, he'd achieved something far more worthwhile.

With his expression intentionally blank, Horatio reached forward to help himself to a sip of water.

Off in his corner, Mike grinned broadly.