A Promise of a Second Purge

'It's usually the other way around you son of a bitc*,' Garcia thought to himself as he took a seat on his chair inside the interrogation room. The arrogant man sitting in front of him snarled as if he was the one with the upper hand in the situation. 

"We meet again, you old scum," Garcia hissed.

"Yes, how unfortunate it is for you," Mr. Robisnon's snarl went wider. 

Garcia clicked his tongue, it was one of his talents to see into the soul of the person he was interrogating, and so he was the best to know when that person had no soul at all. He had seen all kinds of innocent people, he had seen all kinds of criminals, but the man sitting across from him was on a different level. 

The lowest level of them all. 

"Are you done already, boy, the solitary confinement you threw me in is much more to my taste than sitting in this room and looking at your silent ugly face," the old man glared fearsomely.