[V2] Chapter 15: Interrogation

Date: You already know

Location: Master Tiphe’s class.

Mission: Resist

Going to Master Tiphe’s class had me in a certain shambles, with Malachi’s look just repeating in my head like it was a replay of a revolutionary move in football. But there was another problem I had to deal with: Trying to survive Master Tiphe and Mari as well.

As I entered, seeing Mari by the corner by herself as usual, I could only give a stare of revolt. But the second her eyes landed on me, I turned a different direction.

Then, Nikki and Tisiah entered, to which there was this moment of peace that had perfectly sunk—wait, why were they going to Mari?

I followed them reluctantly, though I started to wonder if I should’ve or not. “What’s the deal?” Mari asked hastily.

“Any information on Lowman?” Tisiah asked. And with that, Mari shook her head. “I think that was just the final thing. Just get him out there. Nothing else.”

“Well, it makes sense a bit,” Tisiah muttered.

“I am—however—a little bit curious on what exactly he was doing in there,” Mari suddenly said.

Our eyes widened. “Do speak,” Nikki ordered. Mari shot a look that lasted about a blink’s runtime before saying, “The S.N.A.K.E Foundation works on things that deal with GMO products. But from what we’ve seen, there wasn’t much of anything.”

“Well, easy for us to say; we were instantly held hostage,” Nikki said.

“I’m not talking about you and Cory here,” she said, touching one of my buttons again. “I’m talking about me and Tisiah. Most of the labs were empty. There was nothing in them. Maybe they were shipped or new, or something along those lines. That, I’m not sure about.”

“So you’re worried that basically the mole did nothing?” Nikki asked.

“No. That nothing is what the mole did,” Mari explained.

My face squinted as I glanced at Tisiah, who shrugged with wide eyes of stupefaction. Nikki’s subtle perplexion finished off the trio of confusion. “Is that not... am I?” Nikki muttered.

Tisiah stammered a noise.

“No, the mole wanted things to be empty. It is possible that he and Tilli were maybe shipping out the experiments to ambush them.”

“And you got that from nothing,” Nikki hissed. Mari, with dimmed eyes and a long sigh, confirmed, “Yes.”

But all of a sudden, Master Tiphe shouted, “Formation!”

And immediately everyone formed into a straight line, in rows or columns, as the black heels hit against the wooden pavement of the stage. Mind you, this is outside.

“I hope you guys have done your exercise and health packet from yesterday. The school wants it so bad, and I’d prefer to keep this job, so if you have not done it, expect a sour grade in your class,” she said.

She wore a red onesie, which was shiny with this silky material. “Besides all that, I have a new lesson,” she said. “Using a firearm at an angle.”

We had been on the Firearm Module since last month, and we had now just decided to do an angle. It was hard to shoot something whenever you had a stubbier guy—Tisiah—weighing on your shoulder.

“Pedro, pass these out!” Master Tiphe ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pedro said. Now no one has clowned him for it, because we all had to say that. If you didn’t, she would shock you, and the one time I did get shocked, the right side of my body felt like gelatin.

“So, what do you think we should do then?” Tisiah asked Mari. “Ask Principal Renner?”

“She doesn’t deal with missions; she merely just gives them,” Mari responded. “We’d have to wait until one of the security guards comes and gets us.”

And with that, the door barged wide open as the class swung around. “You four, come with us,” they said. Now, the urgency in which they said it made it sound like we were in trouble, hence all the oo’s.

While I like being the talk of the town, that wasn’t exactly the way it was supposed to go.

They wore black suits and black shirts, so their black tie was more of a discovery than anything. “What’s going on?” Nikki asked.

Mari didn’t answer, nor did the rest of us, because we were waiting on her to answer. We were then led past the training center into an elevator, to which we then rose to the second floor.

The hall was just gray. Gray metal walls with gray carpet. There were multiple doors across from each other, to which the hall led.

“Been here before?” I asked someone.

“Yeah, but just to turn in attendance manually. I think,” Tisiah responded.

“Mr. Chiffon?” I asked. He nodded. Danny Chiffon was the teacher for Tactical Bomb Diffusion, although I think “Tactical” was a bit useless. He hated using technology, although bombs required technology.

I didn’t have his class, but I have heard stories about students turning in their attendance for him. That wasn’t the bad part.

It was usually just some random kids or Malachi’s goons who would jump them at that certain moment. It wasn’t for no reason, but you just had to hope that you didn’t have his class if you were involved in any drama.

And the worst part was that you still had to turn in your attendance.

“Is there new information about our mission?” Mari asked. The security guard glanced at her. “Not in my ability to say.”

Now, being that we were approaching a room called ITW, it was quite clear that it was new information. The way it was presented, however, was different.

We entered the Interrogation Watch, which was a confined room with a large window. We were on the on the floor above the ITR, the interrogation room.

No one had a clue where that room was. It was there, but the map of the school didn’t realize that. It was a constant topic in the YMPA debate club, although those discussions would devolve into conspiracies.

Another surprise was who was down there—that being Marcus Lowman.

Mari’s widened eyes of excitement had him wondering about something, as if just the sight of him had apparently given her life a sense of purpose or something.

I notice things too.

A security guard stayed inside the room at the corner, hoping to blend in with the dark, which proved to be hard due to the blaring light that came from the room below.

The interrogator, in which I had no clue who it was, had blond hair that wasn’t slicked but was more roughed. He had black glasses and this brown suit with a green bow tie.

Marcus Lowman was in these black clothes, with large white words on the shirt saying, YMPA. It was almost like product placement on their own product.

“Hello,” the man said as he looked at Lowman while also glancing at the folder.

“Marcus Lowman, correct?” he asked. The young spy nodded. He had to be around my age, sixteen or seventeen. The interrogator nodded.

“Now, I say this to all of my good ol’ buddies that have shared my presence. I’ll start easy, but ignore me or lie to me, and soon death will be the better option.”

“Is it normal for you guys to just say the most cliche things?”

“Don’t lie.”

“How can you tell if I’m lying or not?” Lowman asked. The interrogator chuckled. “How can I not?”

Then, he took out a recorder, started it, and then said, “This is Agent Lloyd White, inspecting Subject B5, real name being Marcus Mill Lowman.”

Then he glanced at the folder, then first asked, “Why were you deployed into S.N.A.K.E?”

“Because they told me to do it.”

“Why?” White asked. Lowman then vaguely responded, “Because it’s important to them.”

“Yeah, you don’t say,” he said. “I don’t think you heard me correctly.”

“I’m not lying, though,” Lowman responded. White, however, quickly responded, “But you’re ignoring my question. I want specific answers.”

I glanced at Nikki. “Have you heard of him?”

“White?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard about him once. Someone was just saying he looks old,” Nikki mentioned. “I can see how.”

Marcus looked at him, his eyes squinting in the same way that showed contempt. It was hard, however, to describe from a higher elevation of view.

“How long until the next class starts?” Tisiah asked as he grabbed his wand and checked. “Nine minutes.”