The interrogator punched me awake. "Wake up!" My head was mush and my ears were ringing like the constant in-and-out of customers at some high-end store. I tried to feel my face to see what the damage was but my hands and legs were bolted to a metal chair. "You've gotten yourself into a lot of shit, you know that right? We don't like it when one of our own goes and stabs us in the back, and certainly someone as trusted by him like you. You were his right and left hands. Shame you let him down, and we both know he doesn't tolerate traitors like you." He punched me again, his fists smote my face like the fist of the north star. Beside him, was a table with a terminal set-up on it. The interrogator walked over to the desk and booted up the terminal. "You know, he only reserves this for those who have REALLY fucked up. Just goes to show that you don't fuck with him. Him. The man behind the assassinations of innocent investigators who threatened him with evidence to shut his division down. What most people didn't know is that the great and all powerful General Aldon was up to some bad shit. Shit that most people, including the government, wouldn't like and would have his head. Hit-and-run killings of innocent civilians on the enemy's land, bombings inside buildings, poisining the water, and just pure, senseless massacre. A high-pitched wail filled the room, followed by a scourging jolt of electricity doing a dance in my body. "Heh, you should of seen the look on your face. Didn't match the look you wore when we caught your ass." Another jolt of electricity. The pain was irrefutable, almost as if a living conduit of the pain was standing right next to me, laughing at me while I suffer. No amount of reasoning with it would make it go away. You couldn't bribe it, you couldn't tell it to fuck off. It was as if someone injected you with molten glass and constantly slapped your arms to tease you and make you suffer even more.