A Conversation (Scene)

The Interrogation was the post-credits scene to 1-3 SESSIONS AFTER THE AFTER PRECINCT 5 MASSACRE.

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Interior: A Cheap Hotel Room

A man, business man or office worker who has been working a lot of late nights judging by the slightly ruffled suit and stubble, sits at a desk working on a laptop. Someone knocks on the door. He goes to the door, calm, professional, serious. One foot behind the door to hold it closed, a pistol at the ready out of sight of the doorway. He looks through the peekhole and tension is replaced with irritation. He opens the door, "You're late"

Two men enter, both in suits, one with swept back auburn hair and a practiced smile to deflect the irritation, the other wiry and dark-eyed (C) a half-step behind. It is the wiry one that speaks, cutting off his colleague. "His fault. Needed to 'follow up on some leads'"

The first man grumbles under his breath, closes and locks the door, then sets a small device on the desk. It beeps once then emits a high-pitched whine that rises painfully out of earshot. The auburn-haired man winces, the other two ignore it. A few seconds later, the first man speaks, "What did you find?"

"No luck. No witnesses. No CCTV worth a damn." The man with the auburn hair frowns, "You sure this is related? Sounds more like some sort of fucked up junkie with a death wish than… y'know." He waves his hand as he speaks, letting gestures fill the void he hesitates to put into words.

"I'm sure. Seen this MO before." The first man, all business. He pauses, there's more but it doesn't need said. Instead, to fill the silence, the turns to the third man, the wiry one with the dark, sleep-deprived eyes. "What about you?"

The third man sighs and pulls a notepad from a messenger bag, flicks to a page and turns it to the other two. Auburn man flinches, business man remains resolute. The page is covered with a jumble of frenetic drawings, tangles of sketchy scribbles that weave into familiar faces rendered gaunt and weeping, screaming angels with jagged halos that cut deep furrows into the paper and eyes boiling with light, all surrounding a twisted, angular sigil that hurts to see. Words line the image, ill-formed, as if written without looking, but readable "ALL WOUNDS ARE DOORS."

The first man seems to think for a moment, then nods, "I'm going to have to call this in soon." The auburn man looks incredulous, the wiry one seems caught between relief and greater dread. "I don't know if its ECLIPSE or CROSSING, but its something. We need more intel."

He turns to the wiry man whose mood crumples and begins to nod even before he hears the words. "Can you find a trail?" The auburn looks between the two, baffled.

"Gather your things, meet opposite the precinct in an hour"

Notes

• Among the dozen faces in the sketches are those of Jacob and Rory Burton (as the Smiling Man).