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Mother Confessor:

I rather enjoyed the loopy Mr. Riley, before the first stages of the agent wore off. I might get him back with enough alcohol. Getting up I fetch a few bandages from my storage cabinet. Placing them on the now barren tray, I examine the extent of the damage to his exposed knuckles. They seem functional, and he will heal. I begin dressing his hands with the gauze. Finding the Ober-Commanders words moving, though some of what he said made no sense to me. Unsure of the metaphors he used in his addressing the officer. Waiting in silence until the intoxicating beverage arrived. Taking the time to dispose of my gloves and apron before settling next to the captive soldier again.

When the guard placed the bottle and glasses on the empty tray, I asked him to stay for my protection. I had to take the restraints off Officer Riley, because I was not going to pour the strong liquid down his throat. Uncapping the bottle and filling each glass halfway with the green contents. Freeing the Commanders arms from their bonds, he flexes his damaged appendages. Lifting one of the glasses, I offer it to him. He accepts it, quickly draining the drinking vessel in a few large gulps.

“Another”, he says holding the glass seeking to have it refilled. I tip the bottle once more filling the empty glass halfway a second time. Collecting my own, I relax myself in the seat. Taking a sip of the strong drink, letting it dull my nerves as it burns my throat.

Following it with another fiery sip, I address the officer, “I should like to continue my inquiry, no games. A nice conversation while getting inebriated. Fair enough, Mr. Riley.” He nods taking a swig of his own drink. With that, I pick up where we left off.

Marckus:

Sitting in the quiet, my back against the cold wall. Holding the heavy ring of fallen officers. Staring at all the tags lining the large metal loop. What should I do? I silently ask them. Feeling helpless and out of my league. Am I playing at odds that are stacked to heavily out of my favor? I question the collection of senior veterans no longer amongst the living. Each one, a tiny headstones marking their memorial in an unknown grave yard. Sifting through the many metal and mineral plates, hoping to find some encouraging words locked within them. So here, I set at the mercy of these great beings, pleading for guidance. Finally losing my battle with fatigue, I feel my eyes feeling heavy. Slumping on my forearms resting on my raised knees. My head falls, and with it darkness.