A little interrogation

The bodies of the two men hit the floor with a resounding thud, their limbs splayed at awkward angles like broken puppets. My power never lasted long, but it was enough for what I needed.

"They're gonna wake up quickly," I muttered, drawing my knife from its sheath. The metal caught what little light filtered down into the alley, gleaming dully. I looked at the man who was possibly the recruitee, studying his face for a moment. Too bad he didn't have any useful information.

Without hesitation, I drove the blade through his shirt and between his ribs. Red blood immediately began to mat his brown shirt, spreading outward like spilled wine. The warm liquid coated my hands, and for a moment I was reminded of mom, of trying to save her. Of failing.

I shook my head violently, dispelling the memory.

Don't think about it Paul, this is the best course of action. Having two would just be risky. One person talking is dangerous enough.

I pulled my knife free with a wet sound, blood spewing more forcefully now as his heart continued to pump, not yet realizing its owner was dead. Using the living man's jacket, I carefully cleaned the blood from my blade, making sure to get every drop.

With effort, I dragged the living man to one of the walls in the alley, positioning his back against it. His head lolled forward, still unconscious from my command. Methodically, I stabbed through his legs, just deep enough to disable but not kill. The knife made soft, wet sounds as it parted flesh and muscle. Finally, I placed the blade against his throat, feeling his pulse through my knife.

STEP. STEP.

My head snapped toward the sound. A woman stood at the mouth of the alley, taking in the scene - the blood, the bodies, the child with the knife. Our eyes met for just a moment before she turned and walked away quickly, pretending she hadn't seen anything.

Smart lady.

I turned to look back at the man.

"Should be any second now," I whispered, tightening my grip on the knife. I focused on my vocal chords, preparing them for what was to come. This kind of control required complete concentration.

The man's eyelids fluttered, consciousness returning. "Huh, what happened?"

With my free hand, I slammed his head back against the wall, simultaneously pressing the knife harder against his throat. A thin line of blood appeared where metal met skin.

"Don't yell or I swear to Janna, you'll choke on your own blood," I hissed, keeping my voice low but intense.

His eyes widened as he took in his situation - the knife at his throat, his dead companion, the child before him with eyes that held nothing childlike in them. He nodded frantically, throat working as he swallowed.

"Okay then, this Silco guy - how many people work under him?"

"I'm not sure," he stammered, voice shaking.

I pressed the blade deeper, drawing another thin line of blood. "Give me an estimate."

"Uh, uh-"

"'Uh' isn't a number," I said, sliding the knife a fraction closer to his vital arteries.

"Three thousand, for shit's sake! Around three thousand!"

That stopped me cold. The number was far larger than I'd expected. How had I never heard of this guy before with such a big work force under him.

"What is he using the chemtech materials for?"

"I don't know."

"Seriously, this again?" The knife bit deeper, and fresh blood trickled down his neck.

"I really don't know! Really!" His voice rose in panic.

I pressed the flat of the blade against his throat. "What did I say about yelling?"

"Sorry," he whispered, trembling now.

"Okay, so you don't know what he's using the materials for. Why is he sending gangs to the mines for these materials when he has so much manpower?"

"I don't know."

I sighed in frustration. This guy really didn't know much of value.

"Fine then. Where is this Silco guy's headquarters?"

His face lit up with relief at finally having an answer. "Oh, I know that!" He nodded quickly, almost cutting himself on the knife. "At the southwest bank, next to the polluted waters, in an old cannery factory."

"Fine." I took a deep breath, preparing myself. "One last question."

"Yes, what?"

I focused entirely on my vocal chords, feeling the power build up in my throat.

---

[Goon's POV]

I was terrified. One moment I'd been trying to recruit someone for extra pay, the next thing I knew my legs were burning with pain and there was what seemed to be a kid holding a knife to my throat. But despite his size, despite his age, everything in me screamed that this was wrong. That I was in mortal danger.

Sweat poured down my face as I answered his questions. He was just a kid, just a kid - but the way he moved, the way he spoke, the dead look in his eyes... this wasn't normal. This wasn't right.

It wouldn't be bad if I talked, I told myself. There's no way Silco would find out. I'd be fine if I just cooperated.

"Fine then," the kid said, those blue eyes boring into me like drills. "One last question."

"Yes, what?" I replied quickly, desperate to be done with this nightmare.

Then something impossible happened. The blue of his irises began to spread, bleeding into the whites of his eyes until they were completely, unnaturally cerulean. They seemed to glow, no not seemed, they were actually glowing like some kind of eldritch horror.

His voice, when it came, wasn't the voice of a child. It wasn't even the voice of a man. It was something else entirely - something that shouldn't exist.

"Is everything you said true?"

The words bypassed my ears and struck directly into my brain. My mouth opened of its own accord, and I heard myself answer.

"Yes, everything."

"Very well then."

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. My hands flew to my throat of their own accord, clawing desperately as my airways closed. I could taste blood, smell its metallic scent. The child stepped back, watching with those terrible blue eyes as I struggled.

"Guh."

This was no child - this was a monster. And as I watched in horror, something else seemed to materialize behind him. A massive wolf, its fur the color of old blood, prowled forward. Its jaw gaped wide, showing rows of impossible teeth.

But that wasn't all. Another figure appeared - a woman, wrapping her arms around the boy in an embrace. The child didn't react, just kept staring at me with those unblinking blue eyes as my world dissolved into nightmare.

As the wolf's jaws closed around my throat, as I felt its teeth pierce my flesh, I managed to spit out two final words through the blood.

"Fuck you."

My last thought, as darkness took me, was that I should have stayed in bed today. Should have ignored the recruiter's offer of easy money. Should have known that in the Undercity, nothing ever came easy.

And then there was nothing at all.

---

Paul watched dispassionately as the man's body slumped forward, blood pooling beneath him. The visions - the wolf, the woman - faded away like morning mist. The whites in his eyes returned to their normal color, though they remained cold and empty.

"Well," he muttered, cleaning his knife one final time with the dead man's jacket, "that was interesting." He had what he came for - confirmation of Silco's location and the scope of his operation. Now he just had to figure out what to do with that information.

As he slipped away into the shadows of the Undercity, Paul tried not to think about the dead men he was leaving behind. Tried not to think about how easy it had become to take a life. Tried not to think about what his mother would say if she could see him now.

He failed at all three.