“You are partially correct, dearest. I have heard rumors, my pet. But nothing concrete. Nothing… substantiated. That is why we have you here... In this dear, little cell where you are held captive. Now. Tell me a story, kitten. Tell me His story,” the coldness of the voice seemingly affecting the temperature of the room.

“He’s dead. Six feet deep. Period. The end,” she never liked to talk ill of the dead. Especially of this particular person. She knew if she said too much, things could go terribly wrong.

“Well evidently, darling,” he said continuing to draw out his “pet” names for her, “for if He were still present and with the living, we would all be dead by now. But...” a heavy and deeply annoyed sigh passed from his lips as another long puff of smoke rose from the darkened corner, “Details dearest darling… Details. How do we know for certain He's dead? Maybe He just doesn't care about you ...? Like your mummy and daddy…?” he said with an arrogant snarl.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, so very original. Trying to play me against others, and even using my parents. You said so yourself. He taught me. I know how to restrain myself from telling you and every other microphone, monitor, and henchman in this damp hell hole. But…” she hesitated, “I will part with this one sliver of information… but for a price,” this made the man curious, not knowing what she would be looking for.

“What do you want, my pet?”

“I want to be released within 2 hours. No hassle. No fuss.”

“But Darling,” he purred, “I thought He trained you… shouldn't you be able to get out by yourself?”

“I am fully capable of killing everyone in this room, except for you, maybe. But life has been shitty these past few months, and I’m tired.”

“So basically, you're telling me you're too lazy…?” he said almost not believing it.

“Yep, pretty much. So…” she paused giving him some time to consider his options.

“Deal?” She said sticking out her chained hand.