Interrogation 101

Oliver groaned as he stirred awake, his body aching from the relentless beatings he had endured. His wrists and ankles were bound tightly with iron chains, securing him to Max's bedframe. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast eerie shadows over the bruises littering his face. Dried blood crusted over his swollen lips, and his left eye was nearly shut from the swelling.

Amelia knelt beside the bed, her hands hovering over Oliver's battered form. She retrieved a set of thin silver needles from her small pouch, her fingers steady as she carefully inserted them into pressure points along his arms and neck.

Richard stood a few steps away, arms crossed, watching with cold detachment. He wasn't in the mood for mercy—not after everything Oliver had done.

Oliver flinched as the needles pricked his skin, his face contorting in pain. His eyelids fluttered open slowly, his dazed vision adjusting to the sight of three people standing over him like executioners.

The moment Oliver's gaze focused, Max wasted no time. He grabbed Oliver by the collar and yanked him up, his voice sharp and demanding.

"Talk."

Oliver winced, his throat dry, barely able to breathe through his swollen lips. He turned his head weakly toward Amelia, eyes pleading.

"Amelia... Please," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Help me."

Amelia hesitated. Despite everything, she couldn't ignore the memories—memories of when Oliver wasn't this twisted. She had once trusted him, loved him. Seeing him in this state stirred something conflicted inside her.

"You think she's gonna save you?" Richard scoffed, stepping forward. "After everything you did? You cursed her. You were gonna let her die for some sick cult bullshit."

Oliver flinched at Richard's words, his lips trembling, but he didn't respond.

Max sighed, rubbing his temples, then turned to Amelia. "See? This is why I'm not 'taking it easy.' This bastard's not gonna talk unless we make him."

Amelia looked between Oliver and Max, torn between her disgust and her lingering humanity.

Max cracked his knuckles and sighed. "Alright then. Guess we'll do it the hard way."

Without warning, he drove his fist into Oliver's gut.

Oliver let out a choked gasp, his body jerking against the chains. His head slumped forward as he coughed, spitting out a glob of blood and saliva onto the bedsheets.

"Try again," Max said, his tone dangerously calm. "Who else is in your cult?"

Oliver shook his head weakly.

Max's patience was running thin.

"What's your goal?" Richard asked, stepping forward. "Why the hell were you hanging out in a haunted cemetery, huh?"

Oliver stayed silent.

Richard let out an exasperated sigh. "God, you're stubborn." Then, in one swift motion, he drove his knee into Oliver's ribs.

A sickening crack echoed through the room.

Oliver screamed in agony, his head snapping back as he writhed against the chains.

"TALK!" Max barked, grabbing Oliver's face and forcing him to look at them.

Oliver gasped for air, his entire body shaking. His bloodshot eyes darted toward Amelia again.

"A-Amelia..." His voice cracked. "You... You know me. I'm not like this. Help me, please..."

Richard's stomach twisted in disgust. He had enough of this bastard's manipulative bullshit.

Without hesitation, he slammed his foot into Oliver's face.

Oliver yelped, his body jerking violently as a fresh burst of blood spattered onto Max's carpet.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Damn. Even I thought that was a bit much."

Richard exhaled slowly, shaking off his rage. He didn't want Amelia to see him like this.

Amelia clenched her fists, her expression unreadable.

Oliver let out a weak, breathless laugh. Despite everything, despite his bruised, swollen face, he was still grinning.

Max's eyes narrowed. "The hell's so funny?"

Oliver's bloodstained teeth gleamed in the dim light as he chuckled. "You guys really think... you're the good guys here?"

Max's jaw tightened. His patience had finally run out.

He walked over to his bedside desk, reached underneath, and pulled out a black pistol.

The room fell silent.

Max turned the cold metal pistol in his hands, inspecting it like he had just picked up a casual toy. He let the weight settle in his grip before pointing it directly at Oliver's forehead.

Oliver froze. His breathing grew ragged, his entire body trembling. His swollen, bloody lips parted slightly as he tried to form words, but nothing came out.

"M-Max..." Amelia's voice wavered. "What the hell are you doing?"

Max didn't even look at her. His eyes were locked onto Oliver.

"I gave you a chance, Oliver." Max's tone was eerily calm, but his finger rested on the trigger. "I asked nicely. I gave you time to spill everything. You wasted it. So now, I'm done playing games."

Richard, standing beside him, crossed his arms. He didn't stop Max—he knew this was just Max pushing Oliver to his limit. But Amelia? Amelia looked genuinely horrified.

"You're taking this too far," she muttered, stepping forward.

Max cocked the gun.

The click echoed in the silent room.

Oliver's entire body went stiff. His breath came out in shaky gasps.

"W-Wait! Please—"

"Start talking." Max's voice dropped into something ice-cold.

Oliver started thrashing against his chains, desperate to move, to escape. His legs kicked against the bedframe as if he could somehow shake off the iron restraints. His bloodshot eyes darted back to Amelia.

"Amelia—! Amelia, please, you have to stop him!"

Amelia bit her lip. She looked between Max and Oliver, torn.

"Max, put the gun down."

"Not until he talks."

"This isn't how we do things!" Amelia's voice rose slightly. "We're exorcists, not executioners!"

Max let out a dry chuckle. "Oh yeah? Well, I'm just an exorcist who happens to own a gun."

Oliver let out a choked sob. "Amelia, please! You know me! You know I'm not evil! I was just... I just..."

Richard, who had been silently watching, finally stepped in.

He grabbed Amelia's arm gently and pulled her back. "Relax. He's bluffing."

Amelia's eyes widened. "Bluffing?!"

Richard nodded toward Max. "He's not gonna shoot."

Max, still holding the gun steady, let out a small, amused hum. "Am I?"

Richard sighed. "If you were serious, you wouldn't be waving that thing around in your own damn apartment."

Max sighed dramatically, lowering the gun just slightly.

"Tch. You're no fun."

Amelia visibly relaxed. "God, Max, you scared the shit out of me!"

"That was the point," Max smirked, spinning the gun in his hand before setting it back down on the bedside desk. "See? All part of the strategy."

Richard shook his head. "You're a psycho."

Oliver, still panting from pure terror, glared at Max with raw hatred.

"You... you bastard..." he spat, blood dripping from his lips.

Max grinned. "There it is. That fight in your eyes. Guess that means you've got a few things you still wanna protect, huh?" He leaned in close, his voice dropping into something dangerous. "So why don't you stop wasting my time and start talking?"

Oliver gritted his teeth, but didn't say a word.

Max clicked his tongue. "Fine. If you wanna be stubborn, let's take this somewhere else."

Amelia frowned. "What do you mean?"

Max cracked his neck. "I mean, this is an apartment complex. If I fire a gun in here, someone's gonna call the cops. And I don't feel like explaining a hostage situation today."

Oliver's eyes widened in horror. "H-Hostage?!"

Max grinned. "What, you thought we'd just let you go?"

Richard let out a small laugh. "You're in for a long day, buddy."

Oliver shook his head rapidly. "No—no, please, you can't do this—"

Knock, knock.

Everyone in the room froze.

A sudden knock on the apartment door cut through the tension like a blade.

Max blinked, looking toward the door. "Who the hell—"

The knock came again. This time, louder.

Amelia panicked. "Shit, Max, what if it's the cops?!"

Max gave her a flat look. "You seriously think the cops show up that fast?"

Richard frowned. "Well, are you gonna open it?"

Max let out a deep sigh and stretched his arms. "Yeah, yeah. Stay here, I'll handle it."

As he walked out of the room, he grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open.

Standing there was a brunette girl, her hair tied up in a messy bun.

She wore glasses and a loose hoodie, looking mildly annoyed.

Max narrowed his eyes. "Uh... do I know you?"

The girl sighed. "Yeah. I live next door."

Max blinked.

The girl crossed her arms. "Listen, I don't know what the hell's going on in there, but you guys are loud as hell. I'm trying to study. Can you keep it down?"

Max stared at her.

Then he smiled. "Oh, yeah. Sure. Won't happen again."

The girl nodded. "Good." She turned and walked off.

Max slowly closed the door, then walked back into the bedroom.

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Who was it?"

Max sighed. "Annoying-ass neighbor. Said we were being too loud."

Richard scoffed. "Well, yeah. You were about to shoot a guy."

Max grinned. "Not the point."

Amelia sighed, rubbing her temples. "So what now?"

Max ran a hand through his hair. "Now? We move him somewhere else."

Oliver's face went pale.

"N-No, please—"

BAM.

Max slammed the butt of the gun into Oliver's temple, knocking him out cold.

Amelia gasped. "Was that necessary?!"

Max shrugged. "He was being annoying."

Richard exhaled, stretching his arms. "Alright. Let's get him in the car before someone actually calls the cops."

Amelia sighed heavily, knowing she had lost the argument.

With Oliver unconscious, Max sighed and cracked his knuckles. "Alright, let's move him."

Richard grabbed Oliver's legs, while Max took his arms.

Amelia crossed her arms. "You guys look like you're carrying a rolled-up carpet."

Max smirked. "Nah, more like taking out the trash."

Richard snorted. "Or a dead body."

Amelia gave them both a disapproving glare. "This isn't funny."

Max glanced at her. "Relax, princess. He's still breathing."

Richard adjusted his grip. "For now."

Amelia sighed as she followed them out of the apartment.

The hallway was quiet, most tenants either asleep or too busy with their own lives to care.

Then, Richard saw it—Max's car.

It was not the beat-up old car Richard was expecting.

Instead, it was a sleek, black muscle car with custom rims, tinted windows, and a deep, throaty engine that rumbled even while idle.

Richard stopped in his tracks. "Wait. Since when the fuck do you drive this?"

Max smirked, twirling the car keys on his finger. "You like it?"

Richard ran his fingers across the polished hood. "You own this?! I thought you were broke."

Max shrugged. "I have my ways."

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Your 'ways' aren't illegal, right?"

Max winked. "Define illegal."

Richard rolled his eyes. "Alright, flex over. Let's just dump this asshole inside."

Max popped the passenger door open.

"Alright, he's not going in my trunk. Bloodstains are a bitch to clean."

Richard smirked. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Max gave him a knowing look.

Amelia hesitated. "I still don't like this. This feels... extreme."

Richard sighed. "Amelia, I get it. But Oliver literally tried to curse you into death. He's part of a cult that does god-knows-what. You think he deserves a lawyer and a comfy chair?"

Amelia looked down at Oliver, still beaten and barely conscious. She bit her lip but didn't argue.

Max shoved Oliver into the backseat, making sure his arms were still tied.

He turned to Richard. "Where to?"

Richard thought for a moment. "Somewhere quiet. No one around."

Max grinned. "I know just the place."

He slammed his foot on the gas, and the car roared to life.

The car ride was tense.

Amelia sat with her arms crossed, clearly upset. Oliver, still knocked out, slumped against the window.

Richard leaned back in his seat, feeling the comfortable leather beneath him.

"Damn, Max, I gotta admit... this car is sick."

Max smirked. "Told you. This baby's my pride and joy."

Richard ran a hand over the dashboard. "What even is this model?"

Max shrugged. "A modified beast. Don't worry about it."

Amelia huffed. "Can you two stop bonding over your love for expensive cars and focus?"

Max glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "You got any better ideas, sweetheart? 'Cause right now, the only thing we know is that Oliver and his cult are planning something big, and we don't have time to play nice."

Amelia didn't respond.

Richard sighed. "Look, I get it. Torturing him isn't exactly heroic. But we already tried being nice. He's not talking."

Max nodded. "And if he doesn't talk, we're wasting time. You know what that means, right? More people end up like you, Amelia."

She flinched slightly at the reminder.

Richard frowned. "So, where exactly are we going?"

Max smirked. "Old abandoned warehouse on the east side of town. No one goes there anymore."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Max shrugged. "I've used it before."

Amelia whipped her head toward him. "Used it before?! FOR WHAT?"

Max grinned. "You know… business."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "What kind of business, Max?"

Max stayed silent, smiling to himself.

Richard shook his head. "Stop fucking with her, man."

The car fell into silence.

Eventually, Max turned into an empty lot, leading them down a cracked, overgrown road. The warehouse stood at the end of it, rusted and forgotten.

Max parked the car and cut the engine.

"Alright," he said, stepping out. "Let's get to work."

The inside of the warehouse was cold and empty. Rusted metal beams stretched across the ceiling, and shattered glass crunched beneath their boots.

Max flicked on a pocket flashlight and walked toward the center.

Richard glanced around. "Creepy as fuck."

Max smirked. "That's the point."

Amelia hesitated at the entrance. "I can't believe I'm part of this."

Max dumped Oliver onto the concrete floor. The impact jolted him awake, and he groaned in pain.

Richard crouched beside him. "Rise and shine, motherfucker."

Oliver blinked groggily, looking around. Then, his eyes widened in panic.

"W-Wait—where are we?!"

Max crouched beside him, smiling. "Welcome to your new home, Oliver. Hope you like the decor."

Richard cracked his knuckles. "Now, let's have a little chat."