This isn't the first time I've been here. This room, this small dark room with nothing but a table at the center and a light dangling over it. One door, in front of me, locked. I sit here, shackled to this table. To my right is a blacked out window, but I know there are people watching me from inside that room. Watching my movements, studying my body signals. It's all a little annoying. How do they expect me to act right now? Do they want me to thrash about like a dying fish begging for air? Or to stare straight ahead, no emotion in my eyes or my words, like a sociopath bent on killing anyone he came in contact with.
Annoying. I know it is. This is the third time this month I've been sat down like this. This time is a bit odd, I admit it. I do know these aren't the normal authorities that are questioning me. I noticed the small sent of death sticks as I was sat down in this room, a bag over my face obviously trying to hide who had me. Death sticks aren't smoked by Republic personnel, nor any high ranking member of a military division within this galaxy. This was private.
I see there are no cameras around either, nothing to capture this interrogation like the others I've participated in. Strange that this would happen, a private military of some sorts capturing me. Maybe I did something they didn't like; stole some credits maybe, or cut up one of their members for crossing my path the wrong time of day. Either way here I am. Sitting and just thinking, keeping my mouth shut until a question was asked.
"Who are you?"
The voice was over an intercom, obviously someone from the next room. I take note that they are disguising their voice. These guys are really hiding who they are aren't they? I casually look over at the window, a brow raised. I shake my head and look back at the door, face still flat and unemotional. I clear my throat.
"You really think I'm stupid don't you?" .... "You are telling me, a very intelligent man, that you kidnap me, lock me in this room, leave me here for approximately thirty-three and a half minutes, and you don't know who I am? A better question to ask is who are you?"
... "We are apart of a private sector." I laugh under my breath for a moment. Thanks for the obvious information. "Tell us who you are Jack." Now I really start laughing. What is with this guy?
I look at the glass. "You know who I am, as I predicted. So tell me, why don't you do yourself a favor and pass some credits into my account and I'll tell you whatever it is you want."
"A little over six thousand credits have been transferred," What? "Now, Jack, tell us your story."
I sit back and shake my head. They're bluffing. Or are they? I don't know how to react to this. Either I give them what they want and get credits or I give them what I want and I'm screwed. Well, either way I'm screwed, seeing how they might kill me if I don't comply. Oh well then, right?