A Telephone Call (Scene)
The Interrogation was the post-credits scene to Beneath A Shadowed Sky, Part 2.
Interior: A Cheap Hotel Room
"Ok, he's out." A man in a ruffled business suit stands up from beside a bed. He straightens his tie and takes the first deep breath in hours. A younger man is lying on the bed, wiry and dishevelled and unconscious, propped up with enough pillows to almost conceal the cuffs binding his wrists to the head of the bed. Strewn around him are pages covered in jagged lines and frenetic images. Images that continue into the walls around the bed, rendered in pencil, pen and drying crimson.
"Is he... ok?" An auburn-haired man looks over cautiously, rubbing at a fresh bandage around his hand, completely unable to muster his usual smile. "He's not .. y'know, contagious?"
The man in the suit frowns as another sliver of respect for this man disappears. "No. He's not contagious." His voice is sharp, worn thin with fatigue and worry. He did not have time for this. Gathering the pages of drawings, he fixes the auburn-haired man with a hard look. "Stay here. Watch him. Do not let him choke. Do not look at the images. I need to call this in"
Without another word, he steps into what passed for the bathroom of the small hotel room, sets the drawings down and pulls out a small device. It beeps once then emits a high-pitched whine that rises painfully out of earshot. Steeling himself with a long look into the mirror, the man pulls out his phone and dials. After four rings it picks up.
"It's Jared. I need a clean line to Archives." He waits, static hissing in his ear for too long. Another voice replies through the static, inaudible to all but him.
"This Night is going south. My sensitive just went offline." More words in the static.
"No, he's secure." A longer hiss, the man's stony exterior cracks as he keeps his voice level.
"That's not necessary. He's recoverable." Another hiss of words. The man's shoulders slide.
"Understood. But I need support. This is turning into an AXIOM CROSSING and I need LIBRARIAN assistance." A longer, sharper hiss of words. The man's empty hand closes into a fist, arm tensing.
"Understood." His words are sharper, perfectly punctuated. Military precise. He ends the call and releases the tension, letting fist meet tile. His head slumps, gaze falling to the gathered pages and he shudders. Strewn across them is an endless tangle of jagged lines, yet together they formed... something... the man could not take his eyes off it. A complex, twisted shape that seared its way into his brain and squatted in the darkness within. It almost looked like a Tree...
Notes
- The three men were previously seen in A Conversation