Story 1277: Interrogation Room 6

The lights buzzed overhead—low, clinical, unblinking.

Juno awoke in a chair bolted to the floor. Her wrists were bound with polymer cuffs, stronger than steel but light as bone. The room was small—square, spotless, and familiar. Too familiar.

Across from her: a single observation mirror.

To her left: a small table, empty except for a recorder flashing red.

And above the door, stenciled in white paint:

Interrogation Room 6

Her pulse quickened.

Not because she didn’t know where she was… but because she did.

This was where they used to break subjects—gently, surgically. Where truths weren’t beaten out of people… but extracted.

The door opened with a hiss.

Mason stepped in, unarmed, wearing the same tailored coat he always had when pretending to be one of them. A soft smile curved his lips.

“Good morning, June.”

She didn’t answer.

He sat across from her, placed a folder on the table, and opened it slowly.