It was an interrogation room. It had to be, or at least everything seen on tv would instantly point to that. Dimly lit by a solitary strip of cheap florescent bulbs overhead, the concrete and drab grey room held little more than one large door with no window to the far right and a stark silver table and two chairs sitting opposite of each other at both ends. The defining feature of the room was the entire right hand wall which held a gigantic glass mirror enough to reflect the length of the room back upon itself. Thick and menacing, it was the type of mirror that you just could feel someone watching back on the other side, or at least that is what the mind would begin to tell a person once they took in the entire ‘government’ feel of the room. Worse than that, it was deadly silent and still. No ventilation grate, no air condition; it was just a block of a room meant for holding people for an indefinite amount of time. For now, it seemed that the only point of the room would have been to contain the person who, only a night before, had been manhandled and chloroformed by unseen figures in the night.<br/><br/><br/>The loud ‘chink’ of the silver handle being pushed down sliced the silence and, as the heavy door swung open, the air was assaulted with a series of sounds. Somewhere down the hall a faint beeping was going off. There were voices, many of them and random sounds of doors opening and closing. Of course, the loudest of the sounds happened to be the conversation that had flung itself into the room mid-sentence.<br/><br/>“-least delicate handling I’ve ever seen. Plus, I enjoy doing it. Gets me out of this bunker for more than a few hours.” Milliseconds before her arrival, the blonde’s voice had swung itself into the room. She was one of those women who was said to be all legs, the black skirt resting over her knees made sure to show the rest of the world that. Her heels clacked into the room and the smell of strong coffee wafted in with her. In a simple and formal looking black suit, her shoulder length hair bounced onto her shoulders with a sort of floating walk. Her bright blue eyes were turned to look back over her shoulders as she strode in, red lips cured into a jeering smirk.<br/><br/>But she wasn’t alone, this mystery woman. Behind her lumbered in a giant of a man. Samoan with no question, his dark skin looked like it had never seen one day out of the sun. Short black hair cut in a militant block on his head seemed only to give the behemoth a more intimidating structure. He too wore a formal looking black suit, but it seemed to sit still and odd on him and he clearly wasn’t comfortable with it. Standing next to the woman only made him seem even larger as he was mid shrug, seeming on defense about whatever she was talking about.<br/><br/>The door swung open a little further and the third and final member of their party took his first step into the room. He wore a simple black hat and a matching pair of unsettling and dark sun glasses. His thin framed face with high cheek bones made the black spectacles look natural, as if they had been molded there since birth.<br/><br/>Only a few inches shorter than the Samoan, his frame was far leaner and the suit he wore fit like a glove; he was a man who had obviously been accustomed to wearing them for a very long time. And, unlike his two coworkers, he didn’t seem to be interested in their conversation but rather on the contents of the room. More specifically, he was looking towards the lone figure who had been left in the room.<br/><br/>“Excuse me,” came a voice that was somehow as clean cut as his appearance. “But we’re on.”<br/><br/>Both the blond and the behemoth looked instantly to their guest and the woman began to smirk.<br/><br/>“They never check the door, do they, Ray?” She asked.<br/><br/>The Samoan chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever had one try. Least not a normal one. Kin’ like the last one we were talking to though? They’d be checkin’ if the walls were bolted down.” His accent was unmistakably Hawaiian.<br/><br/>“Enough, you two. I apologize for the headache, friend. Ray here uses less delicate tactics than we normally do but, in his defense, we were in a bit of a rush to meet you.” Ray, the Samoan, gave a slightly apologetic smile.<br/><br/>It was obvious, by the way the other two stepped back, that this man was the leader of at least their little trio. The woman moved to cross her arms and lean back against the wall by the mirror. Ray just moved to stand near the door and the slender man just walked towards Erik with a soft smile on his thin lips. “I’m Charlie and believe me when I say it is a pleasure to meet you. This here is Ray and that over there is Sara. We’re not here to harm you or hurt you in any way. We’d just like to talk.”<br/><br/>There was something about this man that hinted he was smooth as sin. A sort of unnatural presence of calm about him that had its nasty little way of floating around a room and influencing others.<br/><br/>“I’m sure by now,” Charlie continued, “That you’ve probably noticed we have your personal belongings and anything else you might have been carrying. It’s all waiting for you upstairs, locked up safe. We just needed to run ensure you were who we were looking for. Everything will be returned, including you, when we finish our little talk.” He moved to sit on the edge of the table and folded his hands over one another on his legs.<br/><br/>He didn’t want to give him a moment to think, knowing what a terrible thing that was for most people to do. So, instead, he instantly launched into a very odd sounding but honestly delivered question. “Forgive me for being rather blunt, but we must really get on with this. Schedules cannot be stayed in this current event, and we’d rather like to keep the item we have, but that all depends on your cooperation. So, first things first, are you happy with your life?” Charlie asked. It seemed a strange question, but the way the man presented it made it one hundred percent genuine; he honestly wanted to know.