Into The Rift

Skeleton Crew (51)

The question repeats throughout the standoff, uttered in a tone entirely foreign to the man in front. With a sidearm planted squarely against his captive's temple, he echoes the question again... this time with an audible click.

The two troopers responsible for ensuring the safety of our Euralian medics have long since stood aside. One of them displays a light grin as he observes the scene unfold, the subtle look clearly showing his stance.

"Where... did you fuckers place them," Douglas seethes, his act now escalating to an actual threat.

Sliding past the hesitation, I move around to his side. This is something I will not condone, even if it means standing against him. His actions are irrational, made only in the heat of the moment. This was likely a state driven by a combination of stress, shock, and sleep deprivation.

Hopefully that assumption turns out to be right. It would make getting through to him reasonable at least.

"Put shit down," I snap. Douglas offers no resistance as I grip him by the arm. "They did something to pull your strings, I get that. Still doesn't give you the right to shove that gun up her head, so stand down."

He returns a defeated glare, eyes betraying a conflicted muse. "All the rooms are stripped, ours included. Bastards hauled out everything. Literally everything!" he yells, lips curled back from the outburst.

"They've got to know something, where they stashed it," the operative tentatively reasons, pulling his temper back to the trembling captive. She spares a furtive glance at me before sending out another plea, this time more coherent.

"N-Nonth, pli-"

The woman's protest is cut short as Douglas shoves the pistol against her temple, forcing the head to an angle.

"Quiet," he cuts her off with a snarl, reducing her constant whimpers to a muffled gasp.

Her eyes resign and lose its edge before retreating behind closed lids. A single tear escapes through the corner as she shudders beneath her one-man jury. Her façade breaks away, falling silent to reveal a defenseless woman completely undeserving of this.

The frown solidifies as I press on, searching for a way out for both sides. "What did you lose anyway?"

"Pictures... mementos. That's all you guys need to know," he reasons, letting out scowl.

I nod, quick to gather the full context from his retort. There were only two people in existence that could shake the man's rigid composure. Ares and Dawn-his wife and daughter respectively.

Douglas is still the only person on the team to have went through the vows of marriage, sometimes that fact slipped under the radar even after the revelation almost a year ago.

"We won't gain much intel from a corpse," the trooper beside sneers, "not that I'm against what you're doing."

I hold back the urge to return a glare at the offending Corporal. His comment sweeps through the room, garnering approval from his comrades. All three carry a mask of resentment, directed solely at the women kneeling on the floor-their wrists crossed and bound with zip ties as they endured the soldiers' muted ire.

It was subtle, but easily recognizable. The spectable highlights the general consensus among the regular troops-the ones still alive.

"Take it easy. We're all tired, and sure as hell exhausted," I carefully begin, pulling gently on the operative's arm. He relents, shifting away from the woman's temple-his pistol following suit.

"We'll get them talking eventually. This ain't the way to do it. Those two wouldn't approve and you know it," I pause, appealing to the man's softer side.