The Black Rose

“Rise and shine.”

I startled awake. The piercing darkness of my room enveloped my senses.

“Get up,” Nadine’s particularly raspy Australian accent prodded.

“What time is it?” I rose blearily.

“Follow me,” she growled.

I put my feet on the cool ground, dressed in my training attire, and followed Nadine out the door.

“Where are we going?” I probed with trepidation.

“Now, you graduate,” Nadine aired with pride as she took me through the training facility, through another vaulted door, and down a hall, which I had never encountered before.

In the middle of the night? I thought.

Nadine made a sharp turn to her left and I followed, counting my steps, noting the doors and walkways we passed. I knew this “graduation,” would come with a test. Every phase, step, or test, was like a test within a test.

Finally, at the last door on the right, Nadine opened it, and we entered. The tiny room was dark, my eyes immediately honed in on the opposite wall, which was a thick pane of mirrored glass. Through the glass, was another dark, narrow box. That room contained a single bright hanging light in the center that shone down on a square metal table and chair like a spotlight. A man sat in the metal chair handcuffed. He looked beaten, bloodied, sweaty, and oozing with fear.

“You will interrogate him,” Nadine stated harshly. “He was captured carrying an arsenal of illegal grade weapons. We need to know who he is working for, and his contact he was supposed to meet.”

“And how am I supposed to get this information?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“We don’t care how you procure it, only that you do,” Nadine gazed down at me, her hands drawn loosely behind her back.

I nodded and went to the door that led to the room. “Oh, and Alex, you are being watched by more than just my eyes,” she winked.

I swallowed slightly, but without hesitation, I entered the holding room.

The moment I entered the man’s eyes widened. I could smell the sweat dripping from his forehead, back, and armpits. His gaunt face was bloodied and what was left of his bulging puffy eyes, followed me from the door. The first thing I did was move to uncuff his arms.

“Oh, thank you,” he muttered hoarsely. “Are you here to get me out?” he asked frantically gazing into my purposeful eyes, rubbing his red-rimmed wrists.

Free of the restraints, I pushed him back down into the chair sharply. “You must have some pretty powerful friends if you think they could waltz in here and get you out.” I scoffed with an air of disgust. “I need you to tell me who you’re working for and who you were supposed to meet,” I continued sardonically as if he was going to just roll over and confess.

“I don’t know their names,” he pleaded, lowering himself to his knees and hands clasped in submission. “Please, you have to believe me.”

I cocked my head to the side, “Well, the trouble is, I don’t. I would rather not torture you to get the information, but see I have eyes grading me, and if I fail, well, that’s not an option.”

The scruffy man’s eyes widened as he realized there was no way he was getting out of this in one piece, or alive. “Please, please I have children,” he whined.

“How about this,” I offered, grinning. “Let’s play a little game. If you can get past me to that door, I will let you leave. If you don’t make it, well, then I win and you tell me what I want to know.” I was itching to fight someone besides Nadine.

The man glanced at me and then to the door and then back to me quickly, while my body filled with adrenaline. He had to know I had training, but he didn’t know how much. He gulped and I could sense his moves before he made them. His fast-twitch muscle fibers fired as he bolted to the door. I took this as a yes to our game.

I crouched low, adjusting my hips to allow my leg to swipe gracefully and forcefully across the floor. It caught the fleeing weasel in his shins causing him to fall flat on his face. He moaned in pain as the breaking sound of solid bone met the solid cement floor. The man gathered himself and rose. His nose bloodied, he held his fists daintily in the air, bobbing.

He lunged, but I moved my head easily to the left. He lunged again with his right and I ducked. The man began to orchestrate a series of jabs, lunges, and kicks faster and faster, alluding to his mastery of Krav Maga and other practiced arts, but he was no match for me. I let him dance and dodge, tiring him out until he struck again clumsily with his left.

I grabbed his left wrist and twisted, pulling him over my back, he landed with a sickening thud on the ground. Slinging his body like a rag doll felt splendid. Screw that, it felt more than good. I felt like a great white shark who had bitten its puny prey and watched it slowly bleed to death as I swam around it in proud circles. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, my eyes widened, the power writhing in my muscles, I felt invincible.

My hand moved around the guy’s neck and I gripped tight, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. Even though he was a head taller than me, I held him high, his feet dangling, I thrust him onto the metal table. “You lose,” I grinned maniacally.

His eyes found mine and I could see the fear, the recognition that he was outmatched, that his life would end. I gripped tighter and tighter watching the life slowly fade. “Tell me,” I growled, “Or I will bring your nonexistent children in here and you can watch as I play this same game with them.”

At the mention of children and the realization that I knew he didn’t have any, his eyes widened. I knew he didn’t have children the moment it slipped through his impotent mouth. The way his voice raised slightly as he said it, it was the same when he said he had no other information to give. All lies. I slammed him to the table, grabbing his wrist I twisted. Crack. The familiar sound of bones caving under immense pressure. He squealed in pain, grabbing his broken wrist. “Names,” I spat.

I…I don’t know,” he chopped through encumbered breaths. I grabbed his neck and coiled to break.

“Wait,” he exhaled. “My.Contact. Is. Romeo. Please, please don’t kill me,” he whined.

“And who do you work for,” I added with an air of impatience.

“Shadow,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling in the back of his head from insufficient oxygen. I let go. He lay there gasping, dazed and confused. I stared through the mirrored glass at Nadine, then to the camera. They had set me up. The door burst open and Nadine entered.

“What is this?” I seethed, pointing to the bloodied figure on the table.

“You were successful,” Nadine clapped slowly with a smile. “Antonio here was selling weapons on the side, and he thought we wouldn’t notice. He betrayed us, and now we know who he was selling them to.”

I studied the sad sack of shit on the table. He gurgled, just as shocked as me, “I was trying to make money, so I can leave this place.”

Nadine moved to him swiftly, her eyes much like my own, black pits of evil. She slapped him playfully on the cheek, “Oh Antonio, you and I both know the only way we can leave this place is in a body bag, and besides, why would you ever want to?”

“Because I know who you really are,” he spat indignantly. He hung his head; his vitriol was exhausting.

As Nadine studied him, I moved like a flash, pulling Nadine’s gun from her holster and fired two shots straight into Antonio’s head. Nadine whirled, “What the fuck did you just do?” she growled.

“You said the only way he could get out was in a body bag, problem solved,” I shrugged.

Then I pointed the gun at the camera in the upper left corner and fired. I didn’t care if I got in trouble, but I wanted to send a message. I flipped the gun in my hand and handed it back to Nadine. She grabbed it skeptically. Without waiting to hear if I’d graduated, I turned on my heels and walked out of the room back to the elevator. I learned two things that day. One, if I wanted out of this freakishly smart haunted house one day, I wouldn’t be leaving in a body bag, and two, a lot of people would die.