The cell was dark, damp, and confined. The water from the rain outside dripped from the ceiling of the tiny space splashing in front of a figure who was sitting on the hard, uncomfortable floor. His face was covered with welts, bruises, and dried blood; whatever happened to the man was recent. His army outfit was tattered and covered with his blood along with dirt from sleeping on the floor for so long.

He weakly lifted his head to look at his tiny window, no wider than a foot to avoid any escape attempts unless he learned how to shrink or lose some weight to squeeze through.

"I hope he made it." The man whispered to himself.

His door creaked open giving him a small slit of light aiming at his eyes.

"I already told you guys that I'm not talking." He coughed in pain while he tried to tense his body up for what was to come.

"We really don't care what you told us." A gruff voice emerged from the door. "If our leader says to keep you alive, then that's what we'll do. So if we were you, we'd be extremely grateful that he's keeping us alive this long."

"Then you should know that I'd rather be dead than help you." The prisoner scoffed.

The two terrorist members who stood outside of the door entered with their guns drawn at the man while they picked him up to drag him out of the room and into the hallway.

The corridors were just as disgusting as the cells, but at least he got to stretch his legs in the open air. The prisoner's eyes shifted to the other cells where some of the people were looking at the verge of death. He knew that even if he helped those monsters, he'd be joining them anyways.

He tried to shake his hands loose from the other men's grip, but his energy reserves ran low from just trying to breathe. Every inch toward their destination was a step away from surviving and he didn't want to go down without a fight.

The weak man used every bit of power he can gain to plant his feet onto the ground and stiffen himself to break free of the terrorists.

"Are you kidding me?" The gruff voiced man scoffed. "You're really trying to get yourself killed as quick as possible, huh?"

The gruff man's partner used his rifle butt to strike him on the head to knock him out to make the trip as easy as possible.

"These rebels are getting pretty stupid." The partner said with his scarred lip giving a smile.

"They know its becoming a losing battle and you know, 'desperate measures'." The gruff man scoffed as they continued to drag the unconscious prisoner.

After a few more minutes of dragging his body, they threw a black bag over the prisoner's head and tossed him into a black van with his hands tied up to avoid giving any clues to where they were heading to.

"I don't know we have to play babysitter with this guy." The scarred lip man clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Would you prefer to take his place?" The gruff man started the van then turned the headlights on to begin driving to their destination.

"No way!" His partner scoffed.

"Then shut your mouth and let's get this thing done."

#

The van turned into an underground parking space where it was filled with the same model of the van and same paint color. The lack of people in the vehicles couldn't say if they were gone for the night or they were inside the building that the parking space was connected to.

The hooded prisoner groaned lightly while he tried to regain his balance inside the moving van. The tinted windows, dark interior, and the black hood around his head made it hard to look where he was at and whatever training he had didn't prepare him for what he was experiencing.

Fear.

"We're home!" The gruff man parked the van into a vacant spot. His partner got out of the vehicle then opened the rear passenger door to pull the prisoner out.

His "rest" helped give a much needed boost and tried to blindly fight back.

"This crazy bastard!" The scar-lipped man tried to get a grip on him, but was quickly kicked in the face with the hooded man's barefoot. The terrorist hit the ground with a bloody nose while the gruff man pointed his gun at their prisoner's head causing him to rapidly calm down.

"Pull another crazy stunt like that and I will not hesitate to pull this trigger." The gruff man barked. "Do you understand?!"

The hooded man took deep breaths and said nothing; his anger stated enough of a point for him.

"Get the hell up!" The gruff man yelled at his fallen partner.

The wounded man dazedly stood up using one hand to prop himself up and his other to wipe the blood that was oozing out of his nose.

"Embarrassing!" The gruff man shook his head. "He was blind and he still knocked you on your ass."

"Whatever!" His partner grabbed the prisoner's other hand to finish their escort mission.

"Better hope he doesn't see you with all that crap on your face or he'll definitely teach you lesson." The obvious alpha of the duo said.

"Damn it." The bloody-nosed man looked at himself through the reflection of the van's window to clean himself up to look presentable to the man they had to meet in the next few minutes. If brutal men like them were afraid of that one man, what did that mean for the prisoner who already had no chance of walking out of the building alive?

He was dragged through a set of doors into another hallway albeit a lot cleaner than the previous one he had to stay in. The entrances that filled the hall were closed with a glass window peering inside them for the occupants of each of the rooms. His legs gave in to the lack of energy he had while they pulled him through the corner of the hall.

"You better hope you can find the right words to pull out of your stubborn tongue." The scar-lipped man sneered.

"Or he can rip it off, your choice." The gruff man smiled.

The duo pushed open the dual doors in front of them into a clean room that was painted gray from top to bottom, a neutral color to prevent people psyches from acting up in with their different reactions.

"If it isn't the man of the hour." Another voice emerged from the room.

A well-suited man dressed with the finest black threads money can buy sat on a chair in the middle of the room with a table in front of him.

"Reves Severs." The prisoner winced. His head could barely lift up to see the man who sat in front of him.

"Mr. Truce Gilead." The suited man smiled. "I've heard things about you. Wonderful things."

"Really." Truce scoffed. "Can't say the same for you."

"Hm." Reves smiled and pointed at the chair in front of him with his open hand. "Please take a seat, you look exhausted."

"You have no idea." Truce was pushed toward the seat and the gruff man's hand shoved him to the seat.

"Now, as you know," Reves fixed the collar on his suit, "We had a little hiccup here in my base while we did inventory of the fuel cells that were in our stockpile; we couldn't help but notice that we had one that may have been overlooked. Do you know about it?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Funny, that's the same response you gave to my interrogators," Reves sighed, "I truly admire your loyalty. I really do Mr. Gilead, but the way you played with my loyalty is something that leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"Mr. Toomes." Reves looked over to the gruff man.

"Yes sir?!" Toomes responded with his gruff voice standing straight with his posture fixed.

"How do I feel about bad tastes?"

"You are really unenthusiastic for them, sir!" Toomes responded to his leader's question on point.

"I have to admit. I felt stupid after letting you slip by my ranks unnoticed for so long and I should correct that, but not until I get my answers. Now Mr. Gilead, my patience is running thin and I feel that I will not be able to extend my courtesy anymore." The leader of Shadow Cannon stood up and with his head nodded a signal to the pair of goons who dragged Truce inside the room.

The two men grabbed onto their prisoner tightly refusing to give him a chance to escape.

"Now where did you hide my fuel cell?" Reves stood in front of Truce. His demeanor was calm and haunting even before he began his method of interrogation. "Don't worry if you decide to lie to me. I'm going to hurt you either way."

"You can check behind your ass." Truce angrily spat on Reves's shined shoes.

"Now, now, Mr. Gilead," Reves shook his head. "I could've taken an 'I don't know', but that's just disgusting. Hold him tight boys."

Reves delivered four punches to Truce's head then pulled up his head to make sure he faced him.

"Were those supposed to be punches?" Truce chuckled.

"I kind of figured a man like you would be able to laugh off the abuse, but I don't mind moving to drastic measures. Do you like knives?" The terrorist calmly asked his prisoner.

"They already got my message and they'll be coming with enough force that it will take them millenniums before they find every molecule of your skeleton!" Truce shook in fear.

"I always disliked knives. I used to alway cut myself when I was a little boy and my parents always made sure to keep me away from them even when I wanted to spread jam onto my toast." Reves laughed while he pulled a large tanto blade from his suit pocket. "I still remember their faces when I came up to them with a bloody apple. Oh man, they were so pale that day!"

"Get away!" Truce tried to slide back from the knife, but the two goons behind him kept him in place.

"Not until I get my answers, Mr. Gilead." Reves waved his knife in front of Truce's face with a calm look on his face, "Now do you want to walk out without your fingers or toes? Dealer's choice. Are you right or left-handed?"

Before another word was spoken, a member of Shadow Cannon's intelligence team rushed into the room to share his findings.

"We're missing a Golem!" The intel specialist told Reves. "We did the nightly diagnosing and we came up with one missing."

"Oh, Mr. Gilead, you sneaky fox." Reves smiled. "Where did it last ping its location?"

"It was over the border of Cille before we lost signal. We believe it was shot down." The intelligence officer deduced.

"Any sign of the fuel cell?" Reves stood away from the weak Truce.

"Nothing yet, but I can send out a scavenger crew to check out the wreckage." The officer replied.

"Yes, please do that and let them know I'll be joining them." Reves fixed his suit and walked with the officer to the exit.

"What do we do with him?" The scar-lipped man looked over to Truce.

"As much as I loved his company, Mr.Yusef," Reves didn't look behind him as he made his exit. "Kill him."

"Yes sir!" The pair quickly took to the command.

"Do it respectfully! I don't want to dishonor the man!" Reves made his exit to get to the bottom of the missing fuel cell mystery.