Sitting in the dark damp room, the concrete walls around me faintly illuminated by two small lamps on the floor, I can't help but shiver nervously. My blood runs cold as I grip the metal bed beneath me, the memory of what had led me hear playing in my head over and over again.
Alleyway
Shouting
Gun
Bang
Over and over that night plays in my head, the sight of the dead man laying in the alley beside the entrance to my apartments god damn garage. The sirens, the interviews, and the threats all raced through my mind, a cold sweat building and leaving the cloying damp air around me feeling all the more disgusting.
I lurch up from my seat at the foot of the metal gurney as the nearby door swings open on its rusty hinges, a doughy yet well dressed stocky woman in her mid-fifties pacing into the room as she waves her hand in an attempt to settle me down.
"Calm down now Mr Hughes" she coos softly, her voice hushed as though others were listening. Glancing up at me from beneath a set of small reading glasses, her pale green eyes look be over along with the hodgepodge series of machines sitting at the far side of the room.
The soft dark haired woman, adorned in a rather expensive albeit it poorly fitted black suit, slowly plods her way towards me as she quickly checks her watch.
"Agent Miller should be here shortly" she huffs, walking up beside the cold steel bed before slapping at the head of the uncomfortable seat with her pudgy hand. Glancing back I stare at the metal cage resting right where a pillow or something far more soft and inviting would normally be sitting, the flickering lights covering the frightening frame blinking and pulsing in an almost hypnotic fashion.
"Come now Hr Hughes" the older woman chirps, once again patting her hand beside the intimidating metal cage. "This is just standard procedure for the Body-Boutique Protection Program."
