Jenna wakes once again to aching in her wrists. Blood drips from deep cuts inflicted by the shackles suspending her from the ceiling of the dank prison. The room is humid, and smells like body odor and blood and dirt.

After a few agonizing minutes of trying to find a position that doesn't stretch her spine and hurt her wrists, the iron door of the cell swings open. Two men enter, dressed in loose fitting garb, machine guns slung over their shoulders, faces hollow.

"Right on time boys. Should I call the maid to bring in tea or you?" Jenna croaks from her cry throat.

Neither man responds. One moves behind her as a third man enters. He's better dressed then the other two, cleaner and healthier looking.

"You look quite lovely today my dear. Unfortunately, it seems you'll be ending your stay here with me, the boss has asked to meet you."

"Yay for me. I'll miss our lil talks, just you, me, an' that thing you call a knife. Now, at this meeting, will snacks be provided or should I bring my own?" Jenna snarks, smiling. The cut from beneath her eye to her lip cracks and starts to drip blood.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you. You're in a very dangerous situation."

Jenna scoffs and mutters, "My whole goddamn life is a dangerous situation."

The man rolls his eyes, and signals with hand motion for the guard behind Jenna to release her. He unlocks her ankle shackles, then wrist shackles. Jenna tries to stand, then promptly crumples to the ground. She tries to push herself back up off the ground with her arms, but an ominous crack comes from bother her wrists and she crumples back down to the ground.

The man sighs, seeming to feel inconvenienced by her weak state, and motions for the other two guards to help her up. They sling her between them and for the first time in months escort her out the cell doorway.

Jenna sits opposite a man in brilliant white suit, his demeanor and face untouched, gleaming unlike the guards standing at his door.

Between them is a desk, with maps and little army man figurines set up on it. The man takes a bottle of brandy from behind the desk and two glasses. He pours slowly, glancing at Jenna as he does. He hands her a drink, and she uses two hands to take it, both of them shaking with the effort of holding themselves up.

"I've been negotiating an awful lot lately, I'm afraid. Awful stuff, bureaucrats," the man begins, "I've been talking to a man for a few weeks now. Gedent. Kind of a class A asshole, hmm? And here's the problem now, Sergeant. See, you're mainly useless now. You won't give us anything, you're too weak to go out fighting."

Jenna watches him over the rim of her glass. Despite her shaking hands, she continues to hold the brandy up, not spilling a drop.

"No one particularly wants you. Actually the opposite. Gedent has asked repeatedly, with an increasing amount of promises on his side, for me to get rid of you."

Jenna doesn't start at this revelation, just raises an eyebrow silently at the man, seeming to ask why she should give a damn.

The man goes on.

"Now why would he want to do that? What sort of danger do you pose to him? I do so like good drama. And Gedent, he recently screwed me over. So-" the man knocks over one of the army figurines "I've had enough. Of him, of you, of this war."

The man throws back his entire glass, then slams it on the table. Then he picks up a folder from his desk and slides it across to Jenna. She merely stares at it and raises her eyebrow again.

"That folder contains all the evidence you need connecting Gedent to YETURI. I know that you were looking into that, after you and that other agent, the surly, dead one, broke through our lines. You can take it, have your freedom."

'But recall, Sergeant- I still haven't forgiven you for the Marako compound massacre. You will be protected only until you leave this quadrant. Then, it's twenty or so miles to the nearest American troops location. Understand?"

Jenna, hands still shaking, throws back all of her glass, then gently sets it down on the desk. She picks up the folder.

"Crystal clear. Could I get some help walkin' out of here? I'm afraid my legs ain't being too reliable."

The man smiles a saccharine smile.