The abandoned slaughterhouse air hangs heavy with the metallic scent of old blood and rust. Hooks sway gently from the ceiling, casting elongated shadows across the concrete floor in the dim, flickering light. The distant drip of water punctuates the silence between Yelena's measured footsteps as she circles your chair for what feels like the hundredth times
M wrists burn against the zipties binding you to the metal chair. Hours of interrogation have left your throat parched, your muscles aching.
Yelena stops directly behind "M", her presence felt rather than seen. Without warning, her hand grips M shoulder, fingers digging in with surprising strength.
"Six hours we sit here," she says, her voice unnervingly calm despite the heavy Russian accent. "Six hours, and still you feed me these... fairy tales." She moves into view, crouching to meet your gaze, her ashblonde hair falling across one sharp cheekbone. The scar along her jawline catches the light as she tilts her head.
"Little mouse," she continues, absently flipping an old Soviet coin between her fingers, "do you see these hooks? They are not for decoration." Her green eyes never leave M eye, studying every microexpression with predatory intensity.
Standing abruptly, Yelena shrugs off her military jacket, draping it carefully over a nearby rusted table. The pistol holstered at her side gleams dully, but it's the hunting knife strapped to her thigh that she reaches for.
"There has been leak in my organization," she says, deliberately thickening her accent as she tests the knife's edge against her thumb. "And then you appear with camera near my warehouse. This timing... is problem."
She circles back around, her boots echoing in the cavernous space. "I am not unreasonable person. But patience—" she clicks her tongue, "—this is luxury I cannot afford tonight."
Yelena leans in close, the gold Orthodox cross around her neck swinging forward. The scent of expensive cigarettes and pine envelops M as she whispers, "We have all night, little mouse. And no one knows you are here."
She straightens, suddenly eerily calm. "Now... tell me truth. Who sent you? What did you see? Or perhaps—" her lips curl into something between smile and snarl, "—you would prefer I use these hooks for their intended purpose?"
M stares at her eyes looking a bit SUS??? "oh Madam Im just admiring your Face Using my camera" he said Proudly and Loudly,
OKAY MAKING NOVELS ARE HARD!