stared down the corridor at the
glass doors that lined both sides. I had placed many Inhumans into
these
cages, but never once thought I would end up in one as well. As I was escorted through the cellblock, Inhumans inside leered at me behind the glass. If looks could kill, I would have been dead fifty times over by now.
Nearing the middle, I spotted Vlad standing just behind the glass with his hands clasped behind his back. A smarmy grin was spread across his pale lips. “Seeker,” he greeted me almost pleasantly. “I hope they put you in a cell next to mine."
I tried not to, but couldn't help but cringe at the sheer toxicity of his tone. I dodged his glance and lowered my head like an animal being led to its death. The Demon guard drew his nightstick and slammed it against the glass. “Shut it, leech." Unflinching, Vlad continued to smile at me as I passed. When we reached a door at the end of the hall, the guard unhooked the keys from his belt. Cycling through the color-coded keys with his thumb, he selected a bright red key, flipped it over in his hand, and then pushed it easily into the lock. Once he snapped the lock to the left, he pushed the door open and guided me through. Retrieving his keys, he returned them to his belt and shut the door, all while keeping a vice-like grip on my arm.
The rectangular room before us housed Brimstone's interrogation rooms. Two doors on each side led either to the interrogation room, or the observation booth. Personally, I thought the observation booth was the brainchild of screenwriters as a way of involving additional characters during a dramatic scene. You know, when a detective is questioning a smooth criminal who may or may not have killed his wife/fiancée/sister. Unwilling to cooperate, the detective begins to beat the criminal with a phone book, supposedly so as to not create bruises, causing the other investigators watching through the one-way mirror to come rushing in and pull the detective kicking and screaming out of the room. It turns out, however, that the booths are becoming more and more common to ensure prisoners are being treated humanely.
Makes perfect sense ... to humans. They have more laws to protect criminals than to take care of the innocent.
Guiding me to the last door on the left, the guard opened it and pushed me inside. Behind the small, gray table and chairs bolted to the floor stood Maynard with his arms crossed. His gaze was decidedly hostile. "Thank you,” Maynard said to the guard. “I'll take it from here." "Yes, sir.” The guard nodded, backing up. The guard closed the door and disappeared leaving me alone with Maynard. I wondered for a moment if there were additional investigators on the other side of the glass to ensuremy safety. Unfolding his arms, the Dendro pushed off the wall and walked around the table toward me. “Rosy,” he said, digging into his pant pocket, “why do you do this to me?" I cocked an eyebrow and stared at him. “Pardon?" Pulling a single silver key from his pocket, he stepped behind me and grabbed my handcuffs. I heard the
cages, but never once thought I would end up in one as well. As I was escorted through the cellblock, Inhumans inside leered at me behind the glass. If looks could kill, I would have been dead fifty times over by now.
Nearing the middle, I spotted Vlad standing just behind the glass with his hands clasped behind his back. A smarmy grin was spread across his pale lips. “Seeker,” he greeted me almost pleasantly. “I hope they put you in a cell next to mine."
I tried not to, but couldn't help but cringe at the sheer toxicity of his tone. I dodged his glance and lowered my head like an animal being led to its death. The Demon guard drew his nightstick and slammed it against the glass. “Shut it, leech." Unflinching, Vlad continued to smile at me as I passed. When we reached a door at the end of the hall, the guard unhooked the keys from his belt. Cycling through the color-coded keys with his thumb, he selected a bright red key, flipped it over in his hand, and then pushed it easily into the lock. Once he snapped the lock to the left, he pushed the door open and guided me through. Retrieving his keys, he returned them to his belt and shut the door, all while keeping a vice-like grip on my arm.
The rectangular room before us housed Brimstone's interrogation rooms. Two doors on each side led either to the interrogation room, or the observation booth. Personally, I thought the observation booth was the brainchild of screenwriters as a way of involving additional characters during a dramatic scene. You know, when a detective is questioning a smooth criminal who may or may not have killed his wife/fiancée/sister. Unwilling to cooperate, the detective begins to beat the criminal with a phone book, supposedly so as to not create bruises, causing the other investigators watching through the one-way mirror to come rushing in and pull the detective kicking and screaming out of the room. It turns out, however, that the booths are becoming more and more common to ensure prisoners are being treated humanely.
Makes perfect sense ... to humans. They have more laws to protect criminals than to take care of the innocent.
Guiding me to the last door on the left, the guard opened it and pushed me inside. Behind the small, gray table and chairs bolted to the floor stood Maynard with his arms crossed. His gaze was decidedly hostile. "Thank you,” Maynard said to the guard. “I'll take it from here." "Yes, sir.” The guard nodded, backing up. The guard closed the door and disappeared leaving me alone with Maynard. I wondered for a moment if there were additional investigators on the other side of the glass to ensuremy safety. Unfolding his arms, the Dendro pushed off the wall and walked around the table toward me. “Rosy,” he said, digging into his pant pocket, “why do you do this to me?" I cocked an eyebrow and stared at him. “Pardon?" Pulling a single silver key from his pocket, he stepped behind me and grabbed my handcuffs. I heard the