"Open your eyes you son of a bitch. I know you’re awake." I said and slapped his face.

The sonji opened his eyes and jerked forward at me. The monofilament spun diamond rope I had pilfered from the garage and used to tie it to the largest tree in the atrium held it tight, though the rope did nothing to diminish the pain from the missing legs.

"Back when I was in the Marine Corps I first came in as a Gunner." I began scratching my chin. "I’m sure you know what those are. Well I was damned good at it and loved it. However my Colonel caught wind of how good I was at Four River Cards. I could see a bluff as it began to form in the mind of whoever played across from me."

"I can rip this tree down. You are an idiot that does not know who he is messing with." The sonji said.

I grabbed its mouth and twisted violently. "Do not interrupt. You see my Colonel found out how good I was at telling bluffs and decided I should have a different job than Gunner. The official name is called Negotiator. Aside from paper work that is the only place you will find it, everyone else in the know calls it what it is, Interrogator, with a capital I." The way his chest muscles moved I could see he was starting to get the picture I was painting. "I was really good at that job. I was too good actually and loved it too much. It’s probably the one and only reason why I was not allowed to reenlist after my third contract. Now it’s been a while since I’ve used my skills so I may be a bit rusty. Stick with me though, I have time on my side so I am pretty sure I’ll remember everything I was taught."

The sonji was perfectly still. Everyone had heard of Interrogators even those not in the military. They were more feared out of general principle than a Marine. A Marine Interrogator was the Defense Ministry’s wet dream come to life. It was now this sonji’s night terror given flesh.

When I was just learning the ropes for our methods my first client was a sonji. This one had decided that the Socialist Republics should be the winner in wars against TUP and turned-coat to hang with ppings and msungs. He had given away intel that had directly resulted in the deaths of an entire battalion. He was pretty roughed up when he was finally captured but sonji are tough folk and a huge beating is the same as a small one. It really fazes them not at all; their constitution is so incredibly fast that they recover from even grievous wounds in record time with no medical intervention. My teacher was a woman by the name of Sarene Nightslide. She picked me personally to train as I was the first Marine Interrogator in ten years. Marines usually have too short of a temper to go the distance with a question session, that’s why the Defense Ministry usually passed on us.

When we entered the question and answer room, a nice affair, two recliners on one side with a fast-maker on the table in case we got hungry or needed a coffee break, the sonji was tied by a monofilament rope to a chair that was the size of a bench. Sarene told me to pay attention and had me get close. There is a place on their chest just above where humans think a heart should go that when pierced by a sharp or blunt object to the distance of four centimeters causes pain in the brain of a sonji that cannot be expressed through bodily motions or voice. It’s as if the brain knows it is feeling pain though the rest of the body is oblivious to it. Funny weird thing is that when the instrument is taken from the flesh they do not entirely know why they want to cooperate, though the unconscious brain and bodily organs that are shocked by the pain understand why.

I took a stick I had been sharpening on wet bedrock that had been split open to create the pond and pushed it precisely into the ten centimeter square area on the sonji’s body. You can see the pain they feel in their eyes, the eyes are said to be windows to a soul and I am sure the agony this caused went straight to the soul. I scratched my chin as I looked at the sonji. Moving muscles to try to escape or attack someone are movements that are reactions to a conscious thought. The trick I had learned stopped those thoughts cold leaving the sonji looking in relative piece.

"I believe that is long enough Tom. Another few seconds and you will be forced to try to use black magic to talk to a dead body." Bevisste said to me.

I nodded and removed the stick. "What is your name?"

"Acla." He replied.

"There are two kleens in this house, both dead. How many more are there and why did you kill them?" I felt the urge to shove the stick through his eyeball.

He shrugged, as much as the rope would let him. "Four or five. They got in the way, shouldn’t have worked for Cleopatra."

I snatched the tubular mouth and jammed the sharpened end of the stick through the bottom half. He screamed and trashed trying to get at the stick.

"Oh Tom." Bevisste said.

I ignored her. I was just warming up. The good stuff was about to begin. I let the scream of the sonji sing to my soul, entirely aware of the open doorway. I had picked a tree with a perfect vantage point to the door in the chance this bastard had friends with him.

"How long are you going to do this Tom? We need answers and fast and Laetitia is still sitting in your apartment with Lucky."

"As long as it fucking takes Bevisste!" I bellowed and punched the sonji in one of his eyes. I kicked him and punched him until I felt the skin split on my knuckles. "One of them was just a baby! You killed a baby and other kleens!" I yelled and slapped him with the butt of the gun then ripped the stick out of its mouth creating a bleeding split gash. "They would have just went back home and told no one!"

Before he could speak I jammed the stick back into his chest. Bevisste using Laetitia against me was low though it made me think of where exactly I was performing this question and answer session. Someone who was not with the sonji could come back to the manor any moment now. The screams died down to a bubbly breath. A few seconds later I removed the stick.

"Who are you with and where are you from?" I demanded.

"I’m Acla." He replied again. " I’m from Marland and I’m self-employed." He replied.

A fucking hired gun. They were worse than ppings and msungs put together. I picked up the 13R from the ground and stepped back several feet so he could get a good look at what I held. I pointed it at him for several seconds. Being able to almost tell the thoughts of another person simply by looking at them was the reason why I am so good at Four River Cards and the reason why I could see the fear on his face.

I enjoyed the look.

As I squeezed the trigger thinking of the dead kleens a rubber band snapping sounded in the atrium. His gut began to wiggle around then flesh dropped off to the ground as if I had used a surgical knife to cut pieces off. I squeezed again. A rubber band snapped. His gut moved from side to side then the lower half of his body began to melt as slowly as a wax candle while the top half of his body began to smolder and smoke.

I wiped the barrel and hand grip of the gun with a towel I had found wrapped around a small flower. The nature of the sonji blood I soaked the towel in before wiping the gun would remove any fingerprints or DNA evidence I may have left behind.

"I need a fucking drink. Where is the wine cellar or booze room?" I demanded from Bevisste.

"I do not know. This is my first time in the part of the house."

I went straight for the game room. If people played the games in the room then they got shitfaced while they played them. I tried not to look at the kleen when I wandered around the room. The feeling I felt when questioning the sonji was almost euphoric it was just a shame it went so fast. If I had a proper room he would have explained exactly how he got caught up in crime and the details of every single contract he had taken while as a hired gun.

Finally finding the stash of booze, it was on par with how much alcohol Abe had on stock at The Extra IPA, I uncorked a bottle of wine and began drinking it as fast as I could. Finishing the large bottle of wine I threw it down with a satisfying smash and grabbed two skinny bottles of clear liquor, opening one to take a deep gulp then shoving it into the pocket opposite to the other bottle of liquor. I closed my eyes at the kleen said a prayer to whoever was listening and began my way back to the garage.

"Turn your shirt inside out Tom. If a cop sees you, you will be arrested." Bevisste said as we were coming up on the open door to the garage.

"Good call old friend." I took another drink from the open bottle then pulled my shirt off. "I’ll do one better." I said as I spotted four shirts with the name of Timber Racing on it on a workbench across from the hyper-cars. I turned my shirt inside out, put it on then put the Timber Racing shirt over it. It would have to do. With how I was sweating I was sure the blood that had been on my face had been swept off with my sweat.

The walk back around the house and down the drive was done in silence. I continued to think about the two kleens I had seen and the three or four I had not. It strengthened my resolve to find the bastards that had done this and murder them. This was no longer about the dead cat story and Cleo. I was going to do the story on just what Cleo had given me. This was now about finding those who thought they could kill kleens and get away with it.

A blue and red light flashed behind me as I walked down the road towards the bus station. I took an apprehensive breath and turned to face the street. The car came to a stop next to me. The enormous cop I had met the day before looked at me.

"Timber Racing huh?" He said pointing at the shirt. I nodded. "You hit it off quite well with the lady of the house then?"

I gave him a sly smile.

He laughed and hit the steering wheel. "Goddamn well good for you. You coming back through this way any time soon?"

"Depends on if she calls. Why?"

He grinned at my answer. "I’ll mark you as allowed to be in Port Richey so you aren’t stopped every time you come here. I know it’s a hassle but we’re just doing our job. Since you and Timber’s daughter are hitting it off there’s no reason to keep treating you like a perp. You have a good day and if she gives you any money don’t forget what I did."

I laughed with genuine humor. "I will. Thank you."

"Well that is fortuitous." Bevisste said as the cop drove away.

"Yes it is Bevisste. Yes it is."

Next Chapter: I need another drink