The Shadow stared at me, his breathing shallow and rapid as the chemical stimulant flooded his system. He didn't struggle against the restraints anymore. The zip-ties had bitten deep into his wrists. Blood was starting to pool under the plastic.
He was trying to lock down his mind, retreating into his conditioning. Years of Imperial training. Pain was irrelevant. Fear was irrelevant. Failure was the only thing that mattered.
The basement of the safehouse was cold. Concrete walls sweating from the humidity outside. One steel table, one steel chair bolted to the floor. A single bare bulb hung overhead, buzzing faintly and casting hard shadows across all of our faces. The air smelled of disinfectant and old blood and metal. We'd used this room before. Not often. But enough for it to have a memory.
