Article 4: Fear

When I woke up, I was in a dark room, where I could only see the immediate area around myself. Looking around more, letting my eyes adjust to the light level, I could vaguely make out shaded figures beyond the reach of the light being cast down from above my head.

Watching these figures, none of them moved or spoke, they all seemed to just stare at me, unmoving. That was, until I heard a door from behind me clank open, as I heard two people arguing with one another enter.

When I heard the door slam shut, I heard the clacking of shoes on concrete approach me from behind.

Despite the situation, I found that I was calmer than I imagined I would be when I entered into a situation like this. It mainly had to do with the realization and acceptance that there was nothing that I could do, thus it was pointless to get overly worked up. My future and life laid in the hands of these people and there was nothing that I could do about it.

As these thoughts passed through my mind, the footsteps came to a stop next to me. From the shaded individuals, I could see one that was significantly taller than the other one, with an overly masculine form, a real big man. The shorter of the two had a feminine physique, which I assumed was a woman.

The first to approach me was the woman. It seemed as if they had agreed she would interact with me first, as I saw her hand the man standing next to her something that looked like a clipboard.

When the woman stepped into the light, I was surprised to say the least. She was an amazingly beautiful woman, who should be in her late 20s, with the way she walked being slightly seductive.

When she was close enough for me to smell the floral perfume she emanated, she spoke in a calming tone.

"Mr. Weber, how are you doing today?"

I didn't know if the question was an insult or a tease, or a genuine question, but I wasn't necessarily inclined to answer their questions truthfully.

"I'm just peachy, as you can see."

I replied to this beauty with an equally teasing and sarcastic remark, matching the tone she used to ask the initial question.

"Hmmm..."

When she heard my reply, she had a look of pondering. Shortly after, she turned toward the shadow of a man from where she came from and motioned to switch places.

As the woman walked out of the light and back into the darkness, a large man came forward.

This man was easily 6'6" from my perspective, or around 2 meters tall. He had blonde hair and light skin. He wasn't necessarily handsome, but he had a dangerous look that many women seemed to find alluring. If I had to describe him with one word, it would be: gangster. He looked like your stereotypical Italian mobster, rugged and mean-looking, read to cap your knees if you looked at him funny.

When he spoke to me, it was with a harsh and deep voice, that oozed delinquency.

"Hey, you think you're some wise guy?"

SMACK!

After he said this line, he threw a punch straight into my gut.

"Cough, cough, aagh..." I could feel the air leave my lungs as I gasped for air. My abdomen burned worse than when I had eaten a tray of atomic spicy wings. I couldn't breathe right and couldn't lean backwards in the chair I was strapped down to, due to the intense pain coiling around my stomach.

"No smart comments going forward, got it?"

The rough man said this as he walked back and switched places with the woman once again.

"Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, you will answer them truthfully, if you don't, well, I guess you know what will happen, don't you."

The pain was subsiding, and I was able to look up again; I glanced at the woman standing over me, what greeted me was a chilling smile that I will never forget, plastered on her face as she stared down at me.

***

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Where's the briefcase?!"

Damon and Hannah had been interrogating the target for a few hours now. They hadn't used enhanced methods yet, but they were getting ready to do so.

Their target, Harold Weber, had been mostly compliant and told them why he was at Squaw Creek and what happened after the crash.

They learned that he had seen the weird weather, the crash itself, and the man from inside the satellite. But, he denied anything to do with the briefcase, saying that he never even saw a briefcase.

When they questioned him as to why he didn't stay at the sight and wait for the police and paramedics, he answered saying that the man who came out from the satellite told him to run and not let "them" catch him. He had followed those words and that was how he ended up in Beaver Creek. At least, that's what he told them.

Hannah and Damon suspected that he was lying to them. From the body language, from the intonation in his voice, among other things, they believed that Harold was lying.

Thus, the current situation where Damon was beating Harold, trying to get him to crack.

"Adam, do you think we should continue further, or try something else?"

Hannah had called Adam, seeking advice as to what they should do from here on. Normally, Hannah wouldn't hesitate to use enhanced methods right away, but the information that Harold held in his head was too important. If they pushed him too far, he might break and just tell them whatever in an attempt to make them stop, without regard to truth. This would make it harder to distinguish truth from fiction, because people in this state of mind would sometimes turn delusional and begin believing the lies they put forth, thus clouding the validity of the answers the person gave. Hannah didn't want to get to that point yet since Harold had been forthright about most things so far, and she believed he would crack eventually, without the need of methods that could end up leading to poorer results.

Adam had heard her thoughts on the matter. While he believed that it was safer to continue with a less extreme method, their boss was breathing down his neck, demanding results soon. This caused him to opt for a method he wouldn't normally agree to in this situation.

"Continue on; use more extreme methods. We need results as soon as possible, or we'll be the ones in the ringer."

"Yes, sir~."

Hannah turned around and look towards Damon. While she couldn't stand his presence, she had to admit their duo worked well together. After thinking about this, she motioned to Damon to switch places.

When Damon walked past Hannah and saw the look on her face and the cart she was pushing, a chill ran up his spine. He knew what was coming, and the fact that Hannah seemed to be enjoying the situation, sent chills up his spine.

'Crazy bitch.'

That was all that he could come up with in his mind as he went and sat down on a couch a good distance away form the only light in the room.

Damon sat there, scrolling through his phone, as screams could be heard a distance away from him, while he willfully ignored them.

'Fucking sadist.'

***

Adam hung up the call and sighed out.

He was conflicted over his choice regarding how they handled Harold. Adam held a strong sense of justice, and while he understood the importance of torture, he still found it a wrong act. And, sentencing Harold to something like that weighed on his conscience.

This was the main reason he let Damon and Hannah take care of this. While it was true that he had to get his team into better working order, he mainly chose them out of a selfish desire of not wanting to get his hands dirty. It was just a coincidence that Damon and Hannah had a conflict with one another.

"You alright there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Did they find anything yet?"

"Nothing so far. We've looked around the general area, even removing the wreckage and searching through it, but nothing so far."

"I see. Do we have any dogs that we can use?"

"We can get some, sure."

"Thanks, get on it."

"Yes, sir."

That one who spoke to Adam was a dark-brown haired woman who appeared to be from Asian and European descent. She had monolid eyes with hazel blue irises. She had beautiful skin that was incredibly smooth and supple-looking, with a color close to beige. She had a small nose and an oval face, giving her a cute feel rather than an alluring one like Hannah's. Her name was Jeong Hye-in, and just like her name suggested, she was a kind individual who was rarely seen in the CIA. Her position could afford for it, however, as she was rarely involved in field work, since she was in charge of the logistics of the team, alongside Hannah. The difference between the two women being Hannah liked to get her hands dirty and in the field, where Hye-in didn't.

Whatever her innate disposition might be, Hye-in was also a part of Project Re-Write, more so in dealing with the research department, than agents.

It was good having Hye-in around, since she was efficient in all the work she did, being shown by how quickly the dogs arrived and were deployed.

"Have them use the scent from the man as a tracker."

When the dogs were deployed, Adam gave out the command to use the man from the wreckage as a source to track. This was because he knew the man would've been holding the briefcase and his scent would definitely be on the case. The only problem was that the lingering scent would be dispersed over a large area, since the weather was quite windy, coupled with the time between the crash and then being multiple hours.

Nonetheless, the dogs were able to pick up a scent and were on their way, sniffing at the ground.

There were around a dozen dogs searching for the briefcase. At first, they stayed around the crash site, however, they quickly dispersed and moved into the woods. The trail they picked up on was the way Harold had run.

The dogs followed the scent for a while, however, they soon got confused since the scent split in multiple directions at a point in time. Some of the dogs went down the path Harold had run towards Beaver Creek, others went towards the cabin. However, the majority went towards Beaver Creek.

The main group of dogs reached Beaver Creek and ended up in front of the hospital Harold had gone to and the smaller group arrived at the cabin.

***

When Adam got the report from the search team about the location the dogs lead them to, he had some of his agents inspect the hospital and everyone there, as well as the hospital itself, in case Harold had dropped the briefcase off somewhere in the hospital. He also allocated a few to look for the briefcase along the trail going to the hospital.

The other location, the cabin, was the location Adam was most interested in, since it would be an easy place for them to search and it seemed likely Harold would have left the briefcase there, since it was relatively hidden.

However, he soon frowned when he heard the report from Hye-in. In all places, the searchers hadn't found any signs of the briefcase. It shouldn't have been this way since they had found a trail to follow and it led to where Harold had gone. However, he soon came up with a hypothesis. What if that man had touched Harold? Wouldn't that cause the scent trail to spread wherever Harold went? If that was the case, and they didn't find the briefcase along the trail, didn't that mean Harold hadn't actually taken the briefcase? If this was the case, then, where in the hell was the briefcase?

Adam called Damon when he came to this realization.

"Damon, has Hannah gotten anything from Harold?"

"No. He looks like he's given up on life though."

"Haaaah... It looks like he might not have taken the briefcase, after all."

"What do you mean? Hannah said that this guy knows something. Usually her hunches aren't wrong."

"I know that, but we can't explain the fact that nothing has been found even though we know the exact route Harold took as he made his way to Beaver Creek. If we haven't found anything, we have no reason to keep him locked up. It is also possible that that man dropped the briefcase in freefall, despite the slim chance of that happening. There is also the possibility you proposed about a first-responder being responsible for taking the briefcase. Either way, things are pointing toward Harold having nothing to do with the disappearance of the briefcase."

"...Wow, really? What should I tell Hannah? She... is enjoying her time quite a bit."

"...Tell her to stop. Any further interrogation is unnecessary."

"...Sure. But, what do we do with this guy? We can't just toss him back into the public, right?"

"You're right. There's a psychiatric hospital nearby that we can use. We can just put him in there, and claim he suffers from delusions of grandeur. That way everyone will think he's crazy and if he tries to tell anyone about what he's experienced, no one will believe him. It also gives us direct access to him if, for some reason, we need him in the future."

"I see. We'll do that, thanks."

Damon hung up after Adam gave him the direction as to what to do.

Adam could only sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Nothing had been going right, and they were running out of time. They had already screwed up once and if they screwed up again, then they wouldn't get off with just a slap on the wrist. To prevent that future, Adam gave multiple orders to follow every lead they had, as well as to keep searching the area, in case they missed anything.

***

"AGGGH!!!... Hah... hah..."

Harold was sitting in the same chair, clothes soaked from sweat and blood dripping around him. He had all his nails missing and a few teeth had been pulled out. His eyes were bloodshot and he was incredibly dizzy. The woman named Hannah had tortured him for the past few hours, but he had endured it.

Throughout his stay, in his mind, he was incredibly angry. Many thoughts like, "what gives you the right to do this," or, "just you wait," floated through his mind over the hours, as if they would actually come true at some point. He was mostly mad by the helplessness he felt. He could only sit there and take it, and there was nothing he could do. He felt a mix of despair, rage, helplessness, fear, and many others that dragged him into a state of numbness. He had accepted his reality, but tried to escape it since it was too cruel for him. All that could be seen in his eyes was desolation. He felt nothing and was like a lifeless-doll at this point.

"Tsk. This isn't fun anymore."

It was Hannah that said that.

For Harold, that was the worst part of the torture. Every time he would flail or scream in agony, Hannah would be there either laughing maniacally or had a look of pure pleasure on her face. He never thought such a demented person could exist.

However, a ray of light broke his bleak dreariness.

"Hey, Hannah, Adam just gave us new orders. He said we're gonna release the guy."

"What? But we didn't get anything out of him! We know he knows something! How can he just let him go?!"

"We're not letting him go per se. Adam said to put him in the mental hospital down the block. Something about 'labeling him as crazy so no one will believe him', or something."

"Did you seriously not remember what he said?"

"What? No one said you had to be smart to do this job... I mean, look at you."

"What was that?"

"Nothin', didn't say anything."

"..."

After an awkward pause, they continued the conversation.

"I'll call Adam and confirm things. Just watch the target for now."

Hannah said this and walked to another room, while Damon walked over to Harold until he was illuminated by the single light overhead.

"Tsk. Fuckin' crazy bitch, she even went bellow the belt."

Damon was looking down at the lifeless Harold, who was sitting in the chair with his head hanging down in front of himself. Damon obviously wasn't one for torture, and as a man, he found it reprehensible what Hannah had done to Harold's "crown jewels", which were now swollen and bloody.

After a brief moment, Hannah returned and directed the agents there. She directly confirmed what Adam had said and quickly moved Harold off the premises.

When Harold became lucid again, he was in a straight jacket, in a monochrome room. He didn't react, he just laid where he was and stared at the ceiling. He thought, "maybe I am crazy, maybe this is for the best." He thought he was in a living nightmare, only to wake up in a padded cell wearing a straight jacket.

It would've been obvious what had happened if someone were in their right state of mind, however Harold wasn't. He had denied reality and was still escaping from it. He was having trouble distinguishing between reality and fantasy. Maybe that was for the better, who knows, but all he knew was that the torture had ended, and that was all that mattered. He didn't care about anything else. He was content.