THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE - II.c.

It had been hours agonizing, stuck within the confines of the interview room.

His wrists locked to the table, and a large mirror served as the only thing in his line of view, apart from a clock at the top corner of the wall. It read, 21:00 hours. The night had arrived, but far from him leaving the day to die.

Instead, it seems he had gained yet another ally; one who seemed just as unsure of the events following tonight, despite maintaining their trustful appearance.

A white cane tapped against his leather shoes before Eric looked up to see a tall man.

His face was tired and old, wrinkles evident from stress and his moustache grayed, a large coat hung over his tired form. A cup of coffee decorated with sugar was only for him to sample while taking his sweet time.

A tap, tap, tap- each sounding a tad sharper than the other, and then, a pause.

The old man sighed heavily, nearly exhausted. "You know. I expected nothing less of the Agency from that little stunt."

Taking the seat from across him, the man managed to slide a neatly cut folder to Eric's desk as soon as he was settled, which happened before the door finally slammed shut and his seat was quickly pushed back under the table.

"Ever since that so-called mission... everyone had become much easier to provoke by default. The city walls can only suffice much longer before this rotten lot devolves into a full-scale mutant army." the man took a seat.

"Are you, 'GOTHIAN', sir...?"

After a few seconds, and without a response, the old man's lips curled up in surprise, forming a straight smirk as though he was holding back laughter.

"I'M YOUR LAWYER."

Eric retreated back to into his seat, feeling the urge to crawl up into a ball and shrivel.

"If my boss sent you, you've GOT a damn nasty sense of punctuality."

"Oh- rest assured. My client's safety, much less my benefactor's interests, is TOP PRIORITY. You could even say-" the old man mused between sips, his inattentive eyes studying Eric's profile intently. "You're precious cargo. Like a prince to a wealthy, foreign family, you WILL be handed back to us cleanly and swiftly."

Only now does Eric wonder what kind of predicament those criminals could have come from in the first place. The murders left behind to die a painful and agonizing death, as if some ancient and powerful force of malevolence had wanted to create a ruckus.

Eric shuddered.

He couldn't even think how those petty thieves made it into the police's scrutiny, outwitted, as far as the rumor mills reached back to the facility.