Delivery
by Lena (language corrections by Shayne)
Prologue
The man before Wong eyed him distrustfully from under the hat brim.
"What is that supposed to be?"
The man was young. Twenty five at most. Even though the room was dark, Wong could see that his face was handsome. He couldn't make out the color of his hair though, as the hat hid it in an even deeper shadow.
"What do you mean what is that supposed to be?" Wong asked.
The dealer's eyes narrowed. "Don't play the fool with me, man. You think I can't tell the good stuff from the crap? You think I'd be dealing computer chips without knowing about them?"
The contact's sidekicks tensed behind his back, putting their hands on the holsters attached to their belts.
Wong kept his face straight, still looking at the man. And seeing his hard, uncompromising gaze he assessed that there was no point in further discussion. He closed the briefcase with the money with one hand. The other moved just minimally. But it was enough for his own men to notice.
Laser fire broke out in the space between one second and another, and he saw the dealer's bodyguards go down at the same moment. Then suddenly the table between him and the man was knocked over and he landed on the floor, the rain of fake computer chips rattling down all around him. There was more shooting. And a heavy thump behind him. He fought hysterically with the table weighing him down, trying to pull his gun. In front of his eyes images changed like snapshots. The trench-coat's tails flaring out as the young dealer spun around. A heavy black leather boot flying up in a wide circle, meeting Leon's jaw. Leon going down. He finally managed to get hold of his gun, but the dealer was already aiming at him, his gaze menacing.
"Try it, and I'll be delighted to blow a hole in your head."
Damn, the guy was furious. Not for a moment did Wong doubt that he indeed would do it. With a trembling hand, he slowly put his weapon down and pushed it away. The man seemed disappointed.
"Stay like that and don't move," he commanded.
Wong didn't think of moving. He cast a short glance over his shoulder and wasn't surprised to find Kim on the floor as well, a bloody stain growing slowly on his chest. That bastard...
With the gun still aiming in more or less Wong's direction 'the bastard' cast quick glances at his men then approached the money's briefcase, which had fallen on the floor next to the table. He picked it up and after a short thought, strode over to Wong's valise as well. A number of chips remained inside and with one sweeping move he gathered more of those strewn around it on the floor. Holding both cases in one hand, he straightened and met Wong's gaze again.
"I really should kill you," he hissed. His voice was chilly with stifled fury.
Chestnut, Wong suddenly noticed without sense. The guy's hair was chestnut. The hat must have fallen off during the fight. Chestnut, rather short, surrounding his head with loose, slightly disordered strands. Giving him an even more boyish look. The guy wasn't twenty five, Wong realized. He was no more than a year or two over twenty.
Without saying anything more, the youth turned on his heel and left, leaving Wong with three corpses, one unconscious goon, and fake computer chips scattered all around the room's floor.
Walking quickly down the dirty, decaying corridor, the man produced a cell phone from his pocket and chose the number. After a moment he got through.
"Yeah, what is it?" a male voice spoke in the receiver.
"Katze, it's Daryl. The guys were trouble. Big-time trouble. The stuff was fake. Mike and Jet are dead."
For a moment there was silence on the other side.
"Shit!"
"Yeah, shit."
"You alright?"
"Yeah. And the money is still with me."
"Good. What about those guys?"
"One dead. Two others out for a while. I'm just leaving right now. Talk to you when I'm back at my place."
"Very well. I'm waiting."
With that the connection was broken. Daryl shoved the phone back into his coat, pushed the clattering door open and stepped outside. There, in the shadow of the building, waited three bikes. He fixed both briefcases to the carrier of one of them, jumped on the saddle and sped away.
Chapter 1
The old man's eyes were dull and thick drops of sweat trickled down his temples, a clear sign that the drug had started to work. Mane leaned against the cabinet and wrapped his arms around himself, watching his captive with a slight smile.
"Wanted to put an end to your miserable life before we could get to you, huh?" He glanced knowingly at the man's wrists. At the moment they were both wrapped with bandages. Luckily he and Junior had gotten to the old geek in time.
"But don't worry," Junior added, leaning over the man. "We'll help you with it. After you tell us what we want." He looked over his shoulder and met Mane's gaze, grinning. "I guess he's already willing to talk." He turned to the man again and shook him violently. "Aren't ya?"
The doc just nodded his head waveringly, the clumsy motion evoking Junior's maniacal laughter.
"Tell us, are you a sick old wacko who likes nailin' young kids to his bed?"
The head shook emotionlessly. Eyes remained dull. Junior laughed again.
"Man, I just love the effect this stuff has on people. They're like puppets in your hands."
Mane winced. Right. As if Junior had ever seen the effects of the truth serum before.
"Knock it off, kid," he scolded the younger man. "We're not here to play." And ignoring Junior's offended grunt, he shifted his gaze to the scientist. "Now, we'll ask you some questions and you'll give us the answers. Right?"
The head nodded.
Half an hour later the limp body was cooling slowly in the chair. They didn't even need to finish the man off, he'd died himself, from blood loss combined with the drug. But first he'd told them all they needed to know. Sweeping his gaze over the not-too-impressive equipment of the lab, Mane tapped a number into his cell phone and waited for a moment.
"It's me," he spoke when the receiver was picked up at the other end. "Yes, we know everything. The old bastard managed to get rid of it, just as we thought. But we know where it is." He chuckled into the mobile. "And boss... you're not gonna believe it."
Raoul was using his body. Slow, steady thrusts, punctuated by the quiet squeak of the mattress, rocked him languidly against the bed.
Raoul was kissing his mouth. The kiss was delicate, light, not too deep, as if still hesitant. Katze parted his lips, granting him access and even returning the caress, but never trying to deepen it.
He toyed idly with the Blondie's hair. Gathered it on the muscled back. Braided. Then unbraided.
The kiss lengthened, the thrusts continued, and finally Raoul raised himself on his arms and breathed deeply as his body contracted in an orgasmic spasm. He thrust a few more times then collapsed on the dealer.
It was their routine. Not too exciting, if someone asked Katze, but not that bad either. It hadn't changed much over the months but he wasn't complaining. After all, he wouldn't be able to get much more from sex anyway, right?
He stroked the Blondie's back and felt the elite smile against his cheek
"Thank you," Raoul said.
"You're welcome," Katze answered.
That was a kind of routine as well.
Nyccos, Police Station, a few days later.
The device beeped, announcing that it'd finished scanning. The officer released his hand and looked up.
"The other," he said flatly.
"This one is prosthetic," Guy observed, however holding the hand out to the man.
The cop's brow rose without emotion. "Mechanical or organic?"
"Half-and-half. I couldn't afford full regrowth."
The policeman tapped something on the keyboard and raised his eyes again.
"But the skin is organic, right?" Guy nodded his head. "And you don't plan to lose that arm any time soon, right?" Guy shook his head. "Then there's no problem with taking your hand scan." With that, he finally placed Guy's palm on the scanner.
"You ever gonna give me the full run-down on the charges?" the mongrel asked, watching the thin line of blue light sliding along his fingers.
"We told you that already," the officer shrugged, and as the scanner beeped again, let the hand go. "You were storing illegal substances in your flat. Obviously, they were acquired from illegal sources."
Guy gritted his teeth, suppressing the desire to jump to his feet and slam his fist down on the desk. This situation was really beginning to get on his nerves. What the hell was all that about?!
"Come on, man!" he exclaimed. "Don't give me that bullshit again!"
"You claim that you didn't have illegal alcohol and hallucinogens in your place?" the flat tone never left the officer's voice.
"Of course I had! But it's not the real reason, dammit. Who doesn't keep this stuff these days?"
He quieted abruptly, realizing how stupid those words were. Great, you genius! Not only did you declare yourself guilty, you also managed to accuse the others. In front of sound recorders and cameras. Not that it meant much...
The man only gave him a blank stare. Guy looked down at him, realizing that he'd leapt up after all. Shit! And he'd been promising himself that he would work on his self-control. Resigned, he slumped back in his chair. The officer gave him a cold, professional smile.
"Now, retinal scans."
Guy sighed, an unpleasant feeling growing in his chest. Something about this examination worried him a great deal. It was nothing in particular. It was rather... the fact of the examination itself.
The data had been collected and catalogued. And then, automatically, sent to Jupiter. It was the normal course of action as, striving for total control, not only did she keep her powerful fingers on the pulse of the net, but she also monitored all significant records on the planet.
When the data reached her, the modules constituting a part of her being started an automatic analysis without engaging her conscious mind. And found irregularity.
Five months earlier, after the death of Jupiter's favored son, an investigation had been conducted. Witnesses were found and questioned. Circumstantial evidence confirmed their testimony. It was easy to discover the culprit's identity. He was a mongrel named Guy. But it was impossible to capture and punish the miscreant, as unfortunately he was dead. Or so it was claimed.
Ceres inhabitants were not citizens, but that didn't mean they were not registered. Jupiter would never allow such a significant and rebellious part of her city to slip from her control. All mongrels were brought up in Ceres' Guardian. And the Guardian's supervisors were obliged to gather the detailed data of their every protégé. Basic descriptions such as hair and eye color, vid-files, hand and retinal scans, everything up to and including genetic code – all this could be found in the personal folder of each the Guardian's charge. The moment Jupiter knew who the culprit was, all his data was instantly available to her mind.
And she hated him. She hated him to the core of her essence. She was deeply disappointed that he'd died, escaping her personal revenge. Destroying him would give her the utmost satisfaction.
But now the modules processing the upcoming data found that the police records of a certain detainee in Nyccos matched perfectly the profile of the one who'd killed her favorite.
The discoveries were immediately transferred to her consciousness and consciously she ran through the data once again. After a microsecond she was positive – the man arrested in Nyccos was the one who murdered her son. And he was alive.
The discovery angered her greatly.
Raoul seated himself and glanced at the glass of wine on the little table in front of him. The casual reception. Maybe she'd guessed that whoever occupied this place was likely to have a dry throat and fear-slick palms, the Blondie thought wryly. He looked up at her. Gleaming, metallic eyes bore right through him.
"You called for me," he started.
'Yes,' was the voice in his head.
"Has there been trouble?"
'Yes,' the word was almost a hiss. 'I have just found out that someone has lied to us, Raoul.'
Raoul raised his brows to show his interest. She continued to speak in his mind, and as she spoke, his face became more and more tense. By the time she finished, there was nothing but anger left on it.
That bastard! – the involuntary thought flashed in his mind.
'Who's the bastard?'
He stirred, realizing that he'd let his mental guards down. He put them back up immediately.
'I'm sorry, I didn't want to be invasive.'
"It's all right, my fault," he lowered his head courteously. "I just... what you said knocked me off balance. And I meant the mongrel, Iason's killer. How did that bastard manage to get away?"
The beautiful mask that formed her face changed just slightly, assuming a gentle, almost affectionate expression and Raoul sighed with relief seeing that she'd believed the lie.
'That, my dear son, we will have to find out,' she said.
When five minutes later he left the sanctuary, he was shaking. He only hoped that she hadn't noticed his agitation. He took the elevator and descended to the little parking lot at the tower's basement level. And only then did he fetch the cell phone from his pocket and press a number.
"Alaya," he said when his secretary's voice sounded in the receiver. "Cancel today's meeting. Anyone calls me, fob them off. I'm not coming back to the office today."
He waited for the man to confirm the order and disconnected. He called for the car and a moment later his limousine was hovering along Tanagura's main artery, taking him straight to Eos.
He found Katze exactly where he'd expected him. At the swoosh of the opening door the dealer turned from the computer. Red brows rose in surprise when he saw the Blondie.
"Raoul, hi, what..."
It took Raoul just a second to get to him. He didn't try to hold back, he hit with full force. The mongrel was thrown across the room. He bumped against the opposite wall and slid limply to the floor. A thin trickle of blood trailed down from his split lip. Raoul was over him in no time. Leaning down, he grabbed the dealer's turtleneck and pulled him up violently.
Katze's eyes went huge with terror and shock. "Wha...?"
"Shut up and listen to me," the Blondie hissed. "I've just come from a private audience with Jupiter. And guess what she told me. She's just discovered that a certain mongrel everyone believed was killed a few months back is alive and kicking – currently at Nyccos Police Station. The mongrel's name is Guy, you recall him, don't you? Don't you, Katze?!"
Katze drew in his breath as realization hit him. Raoul pressed harder, pinning his thin arms to the wall.
"Now, just don't tell me you didn't know about it. You were there. You saw everything. You had to see him. What the hell is that about then? Why did you lie?"
For a few moments the mongrel was silent, staring wide-eyed at the Blondie. Then, unexpectedly, his shoulders shook and he gave a barely audible snicker.
"Couldn't keep away from trouble, that moron..."
Raoul felt his fingers clench on the dealer's clothes as another wave of anger seized him. Wasn't even sorry, that bastard. Didn't even feel ashamed... Till the last moment he'd hoped that he was wrong. That by some incredible chance Katze truly wasn't aware that Guy had survived. The laughter, the words killed those hopes brutally, and Raoul didn't know what angered him more. The fact that his suspicions had been correct or the arrogant way Katze confirmed them. His hand rose and fell, slapping the scarred cheek.
"Stop it! How dare you laugh in my face like that?"
This time the blow wasn't very hard however and Katze shook off it in an instant. He did stop laughing though and looked at Raoul again, eyes strangely serious. Meeting that gaze, the biologist suddenly felt his throat clench with bitterness. If it was a simple lie...
"Damn you, Katze, why?" he shook the dealer's arms. "You've been lying to me for five months. Five months! Without a blink. Without remorse. So nice together, huh? You couldn't respect me enough? Well, I can try to understand that. But why didn't you respect Iason!? Or even Riki. You were supposed to be their friend and you betrayed them. They died because of that bloody punk! And you protected him!!"
Through the blur of his rage he saw Katze's mouth tighten, the muscles on the angular jaw contracting. Instantly, the dealer's eyes became hard. And the fear on Katze's face was no more.
"What?" the redhead jeered. "Maybe you will spank me."
Raoul winced, the absurdity of that idea calming him a bit, oddly enough.
"Really, Katze, since when are elites into such idiocy?"
For a few moments the eyes returned Raoul's gaze defiantly.
"Well, then maybe you'll listen to me before calling me a traitor."
A few layers of gauze, stained with already dried drops of blood lay on the table before Katze. His lower lip was slightly swollen and hurt when he opened his mouth, but he kept talking nevertheless.
"When he came round, he started gibbering that Iason was still inside. At first I thought he was delirious. Why the hell would Iason be in such place? But he was insisting. He told me that when he went inside, he found them together – Guy unconscious, badly beaten and Iason furious. They had to run, the whole place looked as if it was about to go down any minute. Riki begged Iason not to leave Guy and finally Iason agreed. At some moment – they were almost at the gate – everything started to collapse. Iason pushed Riki and Guy outside. But he didn't make it himself. He got trapped there, probably that's when his legs were cut off. He told Riki to take Guy and run. And the Guy at my feet, everything I saw, was the evidence that Riki wasn't raving after all." Katze breathed deeply and rubbed his forehead.
"See? His priority was saving his pet. Iason Mink, first Blondie of Tanagura, sacrificed himself for a mongrel. Believe me, standing there, knowing that he was inside, still alive, trying to assess how much time was left, how much chance I had of getting him out, knowing that the longer I stood there thinking, the smaller the chance was... it was the worst horror of my life. It would've been so much easier to know that he was already dead. I wouldn't hesitate to risk my own life, but let's face it, I would have to take Riki to help me. And almost certainly I would not only fail to help Iason but also get the kid killed. And myself. AND Guy. And then Riki..." he swallowed, how the hell was he supposed to say something like that, "then Riki told me he would go back to Iason. And I felt I had no right to stop him. The last thing he asked me for was to take care of Guy."
Katze fell silent. He raised his eyes and looked at the man opposite him. Raoul sat leaning forward, his elbows rested on his knees, chin in his hands. His face was set in a deep frown.
"Jupiter," he moaned.
"He went back to die with him, although he was already completely safe. He decided to die only because he didn't want Iason to die alone..."
Raoul rose and walked to the window. He stared out of it. For a long while there was silence. And although the Blondie said nothing, Katze somehow knew that he was asking himself a question, trying to find an answer. To no avail.
"But he was so rebellious all the time," only after a long moment did Raoul speak. "He hated what Iason did to him. He hated being a pet. So why?"
"Because, in spite of all that, I think he loved him. They had a strong physical attraction from the beginning. And when Riki realized how much Iason had been doing for him... something must have stirred inside him."
"Even though Iason humiliated him? Even though he took away his freedom?"
Katze said nothing – he didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected he would ever hear such words from a Blondie.
"I never thought that a pet would be capable of doing such a thing for their owner," the biologist finally turned away from the glass and met Katze's gaze. "Even those from the Academy, who seem to adore their masters. Behind their attitude there's nothing more than a race for favors. And Riki didn't even try to pretend."
"Maybe that's why," Katze murmured. "Anyway, that's how it ended. I took Guy to the hospital. His condition was critical. They had to remove his arm, Iason had literally crushed it. When he was released, I told him to leave Tanagura and never come back again. That was our last talk, I haven't heard from him since then. Now you see why I protected him? Guy survived because it was the last wish of both of them. They died so he could live. I hate him, hell, probably as much as you do. But if I killed him or let him be killed, their deaths would have been futile. I didn't know if you'd accept such an explanation, so I decided not to tell you. Besides, if you'd known, Jupiter might have felt something. That's all," he shrugged.
Raoul slowly came back to the table and numbly, almost without grace, sat down in his previous place.
"It doesn't matter now," he said in a tired voice. "Now she knows and whether I accept this explanation it or not, she demands his death. Such sentimental reasoning won't work with her. She gave an order and no matter what, it must be executed."
Katze sighed. "I know."
Another moment went in silence.
"And I am the one who is supposed to take care of that," the Blondie added.
The cell was chilly. Damp walls didn't even offer the comfort of leaning against them. Instead they brought shivers and dampness to his clothes. But since everything here was damp, it didn't make much difference anymore. So Guy just wrapped himself in a damp blanket and stared at the moons through the bars in the cell window, mulling his situation over in his head again.
It didn't make sense. Illegal substances acquired from illegal sources. As if the cops didn't know that most of inhabitants of Dolor bought and used those substances on everyday basis. As if they didn't allow it. The police turned a blind eye to it with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. If someone got hurt that way, it was their own responsibility. After all, who cared what happened in Dolor?
Though Guy had never traveled around the cities, he was aware that every town had to have one – the poorest district, the slum. Dolor was the slum of Nyccos. What other place would welcome a guy like him after all – crippled, with no past, no money, not even an identification card. Guy couldn't suppress a bitter laughter every time he thought about it. Even after escaping Tanagura he couldn't manage to free himself from the slum. He was condemned to it, no matter where he went.
The illegal stuff was no more than a pretext. It was as clear as day. But the real reason— Guy didn't have a clue about it. On arriving here he'd had one firm resolution. To live a peaceful life in hiding. Without excesses. Without breaking the law. Because sooner or later it always led to hurting someone. And he first of all had sworn to himself that – if by some sick turn of fortune he was left alive after all this mess he'd caused – he would never hurt anyone again. Not ever.
So far he'd managed to keep to that rule. He'd even found new friends here – a group of three people, flotsams, just like him, who lived together and had invited him in. It was nothing like Bison. Their most serious offence was that unfortunate stuff they kept in their place. They used it as a remedy for bad moods and the hopelessness of everyday life.
The situation of Dolor inhabitants wasn't maybe as bad as the situation of people in Ceres, but it wasn't much better either. They were citizens and they usually had jobs, but these were the most lousy jobs one could imagine – hard, unrewarding, poorly paid. These were the jobs nobody else in the city would take. The only jobs available for them. Even Guy, without his ID, managed to find employment – Nyccos people just didn't care for identification cards where the slum dwellers were concerned.
And so they worked during the days, tripped together in bars in the evenings. With them he sometimes even managed to enjoy himself, forget about the pain and self-hatred for a moment. Outwardly he lived the life of an ordinary person; what went on inside him was nobody's concern. One thing he knew for sure. He did nothing that would bring Nyccos cops down on him.
There was only one thing that came into Guy's head when he racked his brains for the reason for his current problems. He could swear that during the last few days he'd acquired a shadow. Two days ago he'd been attacked – but managed to escape, leaving the assailants unconscious on the street. He was almost certain they were the same people he'd spotted tailing him before. But what did that have to do with locking him up now? If beating up those goons was an issue, why hadn't the cops charged him accordingly? And more interesting – what did those goons want from him in the first place?
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, resting it against the cold wall. Whatever the problem was, something told him he would find out soon... and wouldn't be happy about it. Still, he couldn't bring himself to care much. After all, didn't he deserve some punishment? Shouldn't he pay? He lived, dragging himself from day to day, with an unbearable load on his conscience. He hadn't been able to forgive himself. And yet, hadn't been able to shrug off his rage. For all this time.
Maybe he even waited for something to come. Some culmination. Maybe it would bring relief...
Katze stared at the end of his cigarette, glowing against the darkness. Warm evening wind ran careless fingers through his hair. A pleasant feeling. He enjoyed these spring evenings, sometimes he spent long minutes standing here, leaning against the ledge, smoking, or just staring at the city lights. It helped his overloaded brain relax, opened new ways of thought.
Like now... a few minutes before, Raoul had asked him for help with Guy. Hadn't ordered him, just asked. By now Katze had learnt to discern the cases where the Blondie would never order him from the ones where he hit his masterful tone sometimes. He couldn't tell where exactly the line ran or what made him know, he just did. Surely, his work was one area Raoul would never dare to force anything on him.
"I need someone trustworthy," the biologist had said. "I don't have anyone like that – the people I know are mostly scientists, and I don't want some anonymous police or military to do it. Just pick one of your men. You trust them. And I trust you. He'll receive all authorizations required. It will be an easy job – just take the mongrel from the police station in Nyccos and deliver him to Tanagura."
Katze closed his eyes and sighed. Raoul trusted him. He'd been feeding the Blondie a line for all this time, and the Blondie still trusted him...
Five months ago, during the questioning, Katze had told the investigators a teensy white lie. Yes, he drove with Riki to Dana Bahn. The kid went inside to search for Guy and then—boom, the whole place went off. He saw no one getting out. Guy must have died in the explosion together with Riki and Iason. Why wasn't his body found with the other two? And where were those two bodies found? At the gate? Ah, then probably Iason took his pet and tried to escape. He must have left Guy somewhere inside the base. Maybe the mongrel was unconscious. It's quite possible, you know, Guy and Iason had probably had a fight. Just look for him somewhere inside the ruins, most likely a few yards under the ground, he should be there.
It was a safe lie. He knew that the base was so completely destroyed that finding anything in its core was close to impossible. He also knew that they knew about his loyalty to Iason. For them he had absolutely no reason to lie. And so they believed him.
He smirked. Yes, a clever deception. And it would have remained uncovered if not for the stupidity of a certain dumbass. Wonder what did that scum do this time to get himself into trouble? Well, Katze had done everything in his power and skills to protect him. If that fool couldn't protect himself, then apparently he deserved his fate.
The dealer took a last drag of his cigarette, put it out on the ledge and tossed into the darkness. He turned on his heel and went inside. Leaning against the balcony door, he studied the man seated on the sofa, back towards him. Raoul's head was up, as if the Blondie just sat there, staring at the wall, perhaps immersed in his own thoughts.
"Daryl will be perfect for that job," Katze said. The biologist stirred and looked at him over his shoulder. "He's in Nyccos at the moment, just finishing up some business there, so he'll be able to take him over in no time."
Raoul gave him a faint smile. "Thanks."
Katze shrugged. "If there is no way out, I may as well help you." He walked over to the couch and stopped behind the Blondie, laying a hand on the elite's shoulder. Raoul's hand rose and covered his in an instinctive gesture. The thumb stroked the back of Katze's palm.
"Do you trust that guy? Daryl?"
"Yes. He's one of my most reliable lieutenants. Besides," the dealer smiled slightly, "you know him." The Blondie looked at him again, brows raised, and Katze couldn't help the twinge of satisfaction at what he was about to say. "You saw him every time you were at Iason's place until some two years ago."
Raoul blinked, not understanding. Then frowned. And then blinked again, but this time with shock in his eyes.
"You mean...?"
"Yes."
"So that's what Iason did with him. I was wondering."
Katze grinned. "He always had a soft spot for mongrels. Especially clever ones."
For a moment Raoul still gazed at him.
"But Katze, from what I remember, Daryl was a meek, soft boy. What good could he possibly be in the market?"
The dealer cocked his head and looked at the Blondie with slight amusement, but then said seriously: "I assure you – very good. And the soft, meek boy you remember is no more."
"Then what has he become?"
Katze slid his hand from Raoul's, rounded the table and sat opposite him.
"A perfect man for the black market," he said after a short thought. "Cold, sharp, fearless. I guess you could say he's... a man without feelings."
The last words echoed hollowly through the room, splintering against hard, metallic walls.