Dmirtri Yashin jerks in his chair and screams into the gag in his mouth. His eyes are still watering from pain. The blurry shape by his leg sticks a needle into the webbing of his toes, that chink bitch from the hotel! His minds starts to go fuzzy, and as a tingling feeling rushes through his body, it occurs to him that none of this really matters, that there's no point in resisting.<br/><br/>"Go ahead and remove the gag, Ms. Pan," a hoarse voice orders from the darkness. The woman tucks the needle into a case and pulls the gag down around his neck, stepping back into the shadows. A long trail of saliva links it to his chin.<br/><br/>"I take it you're feeling more cooperative, Mr. Yashin," the voice says. He nods sluggishly, head drooping to the side.<br/><br/>"You understand that your friends are all dead and we have our merchandise back." Dmitri nods again. It doesn't matter, they were never as important as the voice. He lifts his head, and the room starts spinning.<br/><br/>"Can you tell me whose idea it was to run off with 20 million dollars worth of equipment without paying?" The voice is so soothing, it reminds Dmitri of his grandfather in Novgorod. His vision dims.<br/><br/>"Stay awake Mr. Yashin, I need you to give me a name." Dmitri jerks his head up, and feels like he's about to lift out of the chair. He tries to open his mouth, and finds that he never closed it.<br/><br/>"Mstislav... Kaverin," he croaks. A warm hand rests on his shoulder, and the voice speaks right behind him now.<br/><br/>"That's very good Mr. Yashin," the hand squeezes his shoulder, and Dmitri is happy.<br/><br/>"You look tired, Dmitri. Ms. Pan is going to give you something to help you sleep now. Would you like that?" Dmitri nods, and the woman steps back into the light. She's so beautiful that he doesn't even notice the prick of the needle. She has such beautiful eyes. Such beautiful eyes.<br/><br/>The woman holds her fingers over Dmitri Yashin's wrist for a few moments, and then nods at the man standing behind him.<br/><br/>Landon Porter lifts his hand from the dead man's shoulder to adjust his tie. "Make sure Mr. Yashin's has a tragic accident. Something that makes the evening news in Moscow. I want Kaverin to have time to sweat before the noose tightens."<br/><br/>She nods and signals to two other suits who step out and carry the chair away. The two are alone in the interrogation room. Something chirps in his pocket, and Landon retrieves a slim black object from his pocket, a prototype Laprade Enterprises smartphone with the capacities of a small server bank.<br/><br/>"I have no idea how this damned thing gets service down here, Ms. Laprade never fails to impress." The message is encrypted. He presses his thumb to the screen and it resolves into text. He frowns.<br/><br/>"Looks like I'm going to be in conference all afternoon, Sophia. I'll send the rest to your inbox at the office, think you can pull the files yourself?" Sophia nods and turns to walk away. She hesitates.<br/><br/>"Sir-"<br/><br/>"You'd like to watch?" She smiles and nods.<br/><br/>Landon smiles and closes his eyes for a moment, recalling the corridor, and a portal flicks open. Sophia Pan stares wide-eyed at the light wreathed image of League headquarters that hangs in the air.<br/><br/>"I'll contact you when I'm on my way back," he says, breaking her reverie. She nods and heads off into the darkness.<br/><br/>"Oh and Sophia?" She stops, looking back at him in apprehension.<br/><br/>"Pick up a bottle of red on your way home, you know the code for my building."<br/><br/>Sophia's smile is the last thing he sees as he steps through the portal and closes it behind him. He makes his way quickly to the conference room with the long table, noting the presence of the Incubus at his seat with slight surprise. He checks his watch as he makes his way to his seat.<br/><br/>"We're up bright and early today, Nathaniel. No trouble finding a hot meal, I take it?"<br/><br/>He sits down, and sniffs the air.<br/><br/>"Do I detect gourmand perfume, and a lingering aura of buffalo sauce? Long shift Ms. Hitchens?"