The End is Never Final

Pieces of equipment are grouped together in small clusters. In the midst of the man-made debris, a figure hunches over a modified computer screen. Muttering words that would mean little to anyone save himself, he types. Fingers flying across the keys with a speed that allows himself to be distracted from the sweat forming on his oily face.

Another figure enters, crouching with meticulous care. “How is everything coming along?”

Neck snapping under the force of words, he looks at his tormentor. “It depends. How is my son?”

“Your son is fine and he will continue to be fine as long as you continue to co-operate. Do you have all the equipment you require?”

The man clearly judges the question in mind, determining the proper response, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. “SeaQuest is the U.E.O’s flagship. If I am missing something, which is highly unlikely, I’m sure that I can find it with relative ease. You don’t hurt my son and you’ll get what you want.”

The second man stands, brushing the imaginary dust form his pant legs, one finger gently tracing a holstered gun, “That’s the deal.” He walks to the doorway, stopping once, the doorway neatly framing his body. “Oh. And we have him in custody. My men found him hours ago.”

There is no verbal response from inside the room, but the sweat grows thicker.