Chapter 24: Capture

The night air was thick with tension as the team stumbled out of the wrecked van, disoriented and dazed by the explosion. Montana quickly scanned the area for threats, but before he could react, a squad of armed soldiers emerged from the darkness, their rifles trained on the agents.

"Hands up! You're under arrest!" one of them shouted, their voices barely audible over the crackle of flames.

Edith's heart pounded in her chest as she instinctively tensed, her body braced for a fight. She glanced around at her teammates, seeing the fear in their eyes as they slowly raised their hands in surrender. But she couldn't bring herself to do the same.

"No!" she shouted defiantly, her voice ringing out against the chaos. "I won't go down without a fight!" Zain's eyes widened in alarm as he reached out to grab her arm. "Edith, stop! It's not worth it!" he pleaded, but she shook him off, her gaze fixed on the approaching soldiers.

The soldiers closed in, their movements swift and precise as they surrounded Edith. Without warning, one of them lunged forward, grabbing her roughly by the arm. "Get off me!" Edith yelled, struggling against his grip. But the soldier's hold was like iron, his fingers digging painfully into her skin.

"Enough!" Zain shouted, his voice laced with desperation as he tried to intervene. "She's not resisting anymore, can't you see that?" But the soldier ignored him, his expression hardened as he dragged Edith forward. The other members of the team watched in horror as she was shoved to the ground, her face contorted in pain as she cried out.

"Stop!" Cian yelled, his voice filled with anger. "You're hurting her!"

The soldiers continued their relentless assault, their actions growing more forceful with each passing moment. Edith gritted her teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. Finally, Zain and the others managed to intervene, their voices raised in protest as they pulled the soldiers off of Edith. 

"That's enough!" Markus shouted, his hands shaking with rage. The soldiers reluctantly backed off, their weapons still trained on the agents as they were led away for interrogation. But as they walked, Edith couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at her insides, knowing that she had been willing to sacrifice everything for the mission, only to be met with brutality in return.

The team was ushered into a dimly lit interrogation room, the air heavy with tension as they took their seats under the watchful gaze of the government officials. Edith's eyes narrowed as she scanned the room, her mind already racing with strategies to outmaneuver their captors. "We're not saying a word without our lawyer present," Zain declared firmly, his voice cutting through the silence.

Edith nodded in agreement, her expression defiant. "That's right. We know our rights," she added, her tone steely. Edith squared her shoulders, her gaze unwavering as she locked eyes with the lead interrogator. "We're invoking our right to legal counsel. Without our lawyer present, we won't say a word." The interrogator raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "You're in no position to make demands," he countered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're under our jurisdiction now."

Edith's jaw tightened, her resolve hardening. "That may be, but we still have rights. Rights that you're obligated to respect." "Rights?" the interrogator scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "You forfeit your rights the moment you stepped foot in that van."

"That's where you're wrong," Edith shot back, her tone sharp. "We have the right to remain silent, the right to legal representation – rights that are protected under the law." The interrogator's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Your lawyer won't do you any good here. We have ways of making you talk, with or without him."

Edith bristled at the threat, her hands curling into fists. "You think you can intimidate us into cooperating? Think again. We're not going down without a fight." The interrogator leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You're in no position to negotiate, Miss Wood. You're at our mercy now."

Edith met his gaze with a steely glare. "Mercy? I don't see any mercy here. All I see is a violation of our constitutional rights." The interrogator's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Your rights don't mean much to us. You're nothing but traitors, and traitors don't deserve rights."

Edith's eyes flashed with anger, her voice rising. "We're not traitors. We're patriots – fighting for what's right, for justice and freedom." The interrogator's smile faltered, his grip on the table tightening. "You're delusional if you think you can win this fight." Edith leaned forward, her voice dripping with defiance. "Maybe. But we won't go down without a fight.”

As the interrogation room door closed behind her, Edith found herself alone with the lead interrogator, a stern-looking man with a clipboard in hand.

"Let's start with the basics," he began, his tone businesslike. "Name, rank, and affiliation."

Edith's jaw clenched, but she kept her expression neutral. "Edith Wood. I'm an agent with Hemingway-Jones Incorporated." The interrogator jotted down her response before looking up. "Tell me about your recent activities. What were you doing before you were captured?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that without my lawyer present," Edith replied coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. The interrogator's eyes narrowed, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he moved on to the next question. "What is your involvement with Sparrow Unlimited?"

"I have no involvement with Sparrow Unlimited," Edith stated firmly. "Our mission was to gather intel on their activities and prevent them from developing dangerous technology." The interrogator raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his voice. "And yet you were found inside their facility. Care to explain?" Edith's jaw tightened, but she held her ground. "We were there to retrieve sensitive information and put an end to their operations. We had no intention of causing harm."

The interrogator's gaze hardened. "And yet, one of your team members killed several guards during your escape. Care to explain that?" "We were under attack," Edith countered, her voice steady. "We acted in self-defense."

The interrogator's expression darkened. "Is that what you call it? Self-defense?" He leaned forward, his tone turning menacing. "Or perhaps you're just trying to cover up your true intentions." Edith's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to back down. "I've told you the truth. Take it or leave it." The interrogator's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Very well, Miss Wood. We'll see how long you can maintain that facade."

**Zain:**  Meanwhile, in another room, Zain found himself facing a different interrogator, a burly man with a stern expression.

"Name and rank," the interrogator demanded, his voice gruff. "Zain Calahan, agent with Hemingway-Jones Incorporated," Zain replied, his tone curt. The interrogator nodded, jotting down the information. "Tell me about your mission. What were you doing in Sparrow Unlimited's facility?"

Zain hesitated for a moment before responding. "Our mission was to gather intel on Project Phoenix and prevent Sparrow Unlimited from developing dangerous technology." The interrogator raised an eyebrow. "And how did that involve critically injuring several guards?"

Zain's jaw clenched, but he kept his composure. "We were under attack. We had no choice but to defend ourselves." The interrogator's gaze hardened. "Is that what you call it? Defending yourselves?"

Zain's hands clenched into fists, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Yes. We were outnumbered and outgunned. We did what we had to do to survive." The interrogator leaned forward, his eyes boring into Zain's. "Survive? Or accomplish your mission at any cost?"

Zain's pulse quickened, but he met the interrogator's gaze without flinching. "Both."

"Mr. Calahan, you come from a wealthy family. What made you decide to become a spy?"

"I wanted to make a difference. I didn't want just to inherit my family's wealth and do nothing with my life." Zain said with a blank stare, he couldn’t let them know he wasn’ telling the truth, to them he was a devoted soldier.

"And yet here you are, working for an organization that deals in espionage and subterfuge." The interrogator raised an eyebrow. "My reasons for joining are personal. I want to protect people, to prevent the kind of suffering that I've seen firsthand."

"Interesting. And what suffering have you witnessed, Mr. Calahan?" At this Zain stayed silent, because how could he confidently say, ‘my own.’

**Cian:**   "A soldier turned spy, huh? Sounds like a convenient cover for your violent tendencies." He sneered.

Cian's jaw tensed, but he met the man's gaze with steely determination. "I'm not here to discuss my past. I'm here to ensure the safety of my team and complete our mission." The interrogator leaned in closer, a hint of malice in his eyes. "And yet, you were found with blood on your hands. Literally. Care to explain?"

Cian's nostrils flared, his patience wearing thin. "It was a necessary measure. We were under attack, outnumbered and outgunned. I did what was needed to protect my team." The interrogator's lip curled into a sneer. "Protect your team? Or satisfy your bloodlust?"

Cian's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger igniting within him. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for my country. I'll do whatever it takes to keep it safe." The interrogator chuckled darkly. "Spoken like a true zealot. But tell me, Mr. Hale, what makes you think you can trust your team?"

Cian's fists clenched at his sides, his voice laced with defiance. "Because we've been through hell together. We've watched each other's backs, saved each other's lives. That's more than I can say for anyone in this room." The interrogator's smirk widened, sensing a crack in Cian's composure. "And yet, you're all sitting here, captured and helpless. Some team you are." Cian's jaw tightened, but he refused to let the man see his frustration. "We may be down, but we're not out. You haven't broken us yet, and you never will."

**Kasey:** The interrogator's voice was covered in skepticism. "So your fiancée is okay with the fact that you might not come home one day? That she might become a widow before she's even a bride?"

Dennis' jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing at the implication. "She's strong. She knows the risks, but she also knows why I do what I do. She supports me because she believes in the same cause." The interrogator leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, the noble cause. Tell me, Mr. Dennis, how noble do you feel now, sitting here in handcuffs?"

Dennis' fists tightened involuntarily, his resolve flickering but not faltering. "I may be in handcuffs now, but I won't be for long. And when I'm free, I'll continue fighting for what's right. That's a promise."

The interrogator chuckled darkly, a glint of malice in his eyes. "A promise, huh? We'll see about that. But in the meantime, tell me, Mr. Dennis, what do you think your fiancée would say if she could see you now?"

Dennis' gaze hardened, his voice cold as steel. "She'd say I'm doing what I have to do. Just like she's doing what she has to do. And when this is over, we'll be stronger than ever. You can't break us." 

**Montana:**  The interrogator's voice was like ice. "Mr. Whitney, you don't seem to have any family. No one will miss you if you never come home." Montana's gaze hardened, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "I have my team. They're like family to me. And they won't rest until they know I'm safe."

The interrogator raised an eyebrow. "And what about your loyalty to your country? To your government?" Montana's jaw tightened, his voice firm. "I'm loyal to the people I serve with. To the ideals we fight for. And if that's not enough for you, then you don't understand loyalty."

The interrogator leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "A bold statement, Mr. Whitney. But let's talk about your age. You're only 25 years old. What could you possibly know about loyalty?" Montana's expression didn't waver, his resolve unyielding. "I may be young, but I've seen enough to know where my loyalties lie. And they lie with my team. With my country. With doing what's right."

**Markus:**  The interrogator's steely gaze fixed on Markus. "Mr. Lachance, your brother Sam has quite the criminal record. Care to explain why?" Markus remained composed, his voice steady. "My brother has made mistakes in the past, but he's trying to turn his life around. I won't abandon him."

The interrogator raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And what about your own criminal record, Mr. Lachance? Breaking and entering, assault... quite the resume." Markus's jaw clenched, but he kept his tone measured. "I did what I had to survive. But that's all in the past now. I'm working to make amends."

The interrogator leaned forward, his tone filled with disdain. "And what makes you think we should believe you? That you've really changed?" Markus's eyes flashed with defiance. "Because I'm here, aren't I? I could have run, disappeared into the shadows. But I chose to stay and fight. That's what makes me different now."

—

Edith was led into a dimly lit room, where a single spotlight illuminated a chair in the center. The interrogator sat across from her, his gaze piercing. "Tell me, Edith," he began, his voice cold and calculated, "how does it feel to know that your own organization betrayed you? That your loyalty meant nothing to them?"

Edith's jaw tightened, but she remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But the interrogator persisted, his words digging into her like daggers. "You think you're so tough, don't you?" he taunted. "But we both know the truth. You're just a pawn in their game, expendable and disposable." Despite her best efforts, Edith couldn't block out his words, each one stoking the flames of doubt and insecurity within her.

Zain was bound to a chair, his hands tied behind his back as two burly guards loomed over him. One of them cracked his knuckles, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Let's see how tough you really are, pretty boy," the guard sneered, before delivering a vicious blow to Zain's stomach.

Zain grunted in pain, but refused to show any weakness. The guards continued their assault, raining down blows upon him from every angle. Despite the agony coursing through his body, Zain gritted his teeth and held on to his resolve, determined not to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing him break.

Cian was strapped to a table, his head held back as water poured over his face, drowning him in a torrent of liquid. He thrashed against his restraints, desperate for air but unable to find it. Each time he thought he couldn't endure any longer, his tormentors would relent, allowing him a brief reprieve before starting the torture anew. Through it all, Cian fought to keep his mind clear, focusing on thoughts of his comrades and the hope of escape. But as the water continued to pour, he felt his strength waning, his willpower slipping away.

Montana was locked in a small, windowless room, the air thick with silence. The only sound was the pounding of his own heartbeat, echoing in his ears. Hours stretched into days as Montana sat in darkness, the absence of stimuli driving him to the brink of madness. He longed for even the slightest sensation, but found none. Despite the overwhelming emptiness surrounding him, Montana clung to his memories of his teammates, drawing strength from their camaraderie as he endured the solitary confinement. 

Markus was strapped to a table, his captors surrounding him with a gleeful intensity. They brandished various implements of torture, each one designed to inflict maximum pain. With every strike, Markus felt a searing agony shoot through his body, but he refused to give his torturers the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

Throughout all the days they all had one motivation, get out, finish the mission, and leave this life behind. 

K.M Strunk