The captive

Smiling under my hood I looked up at the sky ‘Was that too much?’

‘Your penchant for theatrics is quite entertaining.’

‘At least we had some fun, I doubt what is coming next will be as entertaining.’

‘Interrogation never is if what I see in your memories is real.’

He was referring to the memories from my past life and the many movies about war and captives. I remembered watching a movie named ‘Inglourious Basterds’ that impressed me by its humor and brutality. It later served me for a Spy series that was moderately successful. Apparently, my other self enjoyed watching movies in my head, despite the missing parts and somewhat altered scenes (I never could help changing what I didn’t like about the stories I saw or read).

I walked directly to the man tied to a post and squatted in front of him. He was filthy, with long black hair matted with blood and dust and rests of spittle around his mouth, yet he didn’t appear malnourished… yet.