Chapter 184

Chapter 184: Interrogation

At 10:15 a.m., Song Cheng returned to the Containment Zone that held the most dangerous inmates.

A pure white hallway stretched ahead, bare of any decoration. Bright lights shone evenly from the ceiling. At regular intervals, dark red indicator rings were set into the walls, ceiling, and floor. Fully armed guards watched the T-junctions at both ends. Many sensors, cameras, and sentry weapons hid inside armored ceiling modules.

Every few meters stood a heavy security gate. Some gates had a green light glowing above them, while others showed a harsh red.

This was one of the highest-level “prisons” under the Special Affairs Bureau, made to hold the most dangerous and most escape-prone humanoid inmates. Anyone qualified to be sent here had either caused major damage in the Borderland and was waiting for trial, or carried such a serious potential threat that releasing them would get seven or eight factions to post a joint bounty.

Angel Cultists fit right in here.

Song Cheng stopped before a gate at the end of the corridor, glanced at the light above The Door and the status screen on the wall, then nodded to the Containment Zone guard beside him: “How is he doing?”

“Calm. No activity logged, no signs of self-harm or escape attempts,” the armored guard replied in a muffled voice, his face hidden behind a heavy visor, “other than basic eating and bathroom breaks, the inmate has been sitting in that chair the whole time, like he is meditating.”

“Any response from the mind monitor or the Barrier Device?” he asked.

“All security Systems are normal. We can confirm he cannot contact any hidden entity or speak with an accomplice,” the guard continued, “we saw him make a few gestures like silent prayer, but there was no trace of supernatural power. It should be simple prayer.”

“Mm,” Song Cheng nodded lightly, then asked, “what about the other one?”

“Held alone in Section B. Same situation as here. Quiet, silent, no rule-breaking, but also no cooperation. Routine interrogation and hypnosis got nowhere. To be honest, these believers’ Mind Barriers are very tough.”

“That is normal. They worship that thing. Sometimes it is not that the Mind Barrier is strong, it is that these lunatics no longer have a normal mind at all,” Song Cheng said as he exhaled, “but we still have to question them. Open The Door. I want to ‘chat’ with the one inside.”

“Understood,” the guard said as he moved up to operate the locks on The Door, “you have one hour. All security Systems will be on high alert. Please watch your safety and keep emotional spikes under control.”

A moment later, the heavy gate hummed, the tone dropping as internal machinery vented with a long hiss. With a soft System chime, the silver-white alloy door drew back on both sides, revealing the “room” used to hold the inmate.

A half-transparent blue barrier split the cell in two. The near side, by The Door, was empty. The far side held the bare minimum: a cot and a single chair. Every surface, including walls, ceiling, and floor, was wrapped in a tough, slightly elastic material. Several hardened hemisphere devices studded the ceiling. Now and then, a red blink or low hum pulsed from them, cold and warning.

A tall, thin, bald man in a white prison uniform sat quietly in the gray chair. A high-tech restraint collar gripped his neck, with more restraints on his wrists. He stared at the blank wall with no expression.

The Door closed heavy behind him. Song Cheng stepped to the barrier and pressed his hand to it. After a few breaths, the blue light peeled away. He walked straight toward the inmate, one of the two captured Angel Cultists.

The bald prisoner finally drew his gaze from the wall. He looked up at Song Cheng, eyes calm, without sorrow or joy, as if he had already moved beyond all human feelings and wants.

“You are here again,” the Angel Cultist said lightly, “a poor man locked in a cage.”

“In your eyes, I am the one inside a cage, right? You call the real world a cage, and your lord is sealed in another cage,” Song Cheng answered without a hint of offense, his face flat as stone, “take a look at yourself. You are also in a cage.”

“I am confined for now, but I enjoy a freedom and peace beyond your understanding,” the believer smiled a little, “and my Lord’s ‘confinement’ is a higher ‘passion.’ He will break the bonds at the promised time and descend upon this pitiful world. The devout will be blessed. People as dull as you will receive matching suffering.”

Song Cheng stayed unmoved, though a thread of curiosity flashed in his eyes: “I do wonder about one thing. You and your partner, which ‘Angel’ do you follow? As far as I know, there are many Dark Angels. Angel Cultists split into many branches. Some worship several at once, some follow only one. Which one do you follow?”

“You begin to show curiosity about my Lord. You do it in the form of interrogation. You try to learn my Lord’s secrets. Then you act like you are interested in our faith and ask me for more teaching. After that you pretend to be moved and start listening to the ‘voices.’ A few days later, or to be safer, a little over a week later, you act like a trainee touched by my Lord in private, like one of us,” the Angel Cultist said calmly, as if he were describing facts already seen and finished, while watching Song Cheng’s eyes.

Then he leaned forward a little: “On day seven or eight, I will relax my guard and reveal too much about my Lord and my brothers. You will pass those secrets to your superior. Save your strength. The smell of your Sanity Blocking Agent is almost seeping out of your pores.”

Song Cheng’s face hardly changed. The zealot’s “exposure” drew no visible reaction. He kept silent for a few seconds, then smiled a little: “Good. Looks like you have plenty of experience. Your partner is not as seasoned.”

“Oh, then it is the second route. You locked us separately so we would doubt each other’s loyalty and devotion,” the Angel Cultist shook his head, “your tricks are simpler than I thought.”

Song Cheng studied the bald man who looked free of all human weakness, the shine on that smooth head oddly glaring and unpleasant.

After a moment, he exhaled and sat down on the edge of the cot.

“No rush. We have time. I am not an Interrogation Specialist, and someone more professional will handle the job. For now, let us just talk, just a chat.”

[He knew the man would give nothing. Still, the routine had to be done.]

…

An hour later, The Door opened and Song Cheng stepped out.

An armed guard came over: “Did you get anything?”

“Same damn thing as last time. Mouth hard as stone. I swear, even if the world was ending and the universe about to blow, the last thing left would be two Angel Cultists’ lips standing there arguing,” Song Cheng grumbled without manners as he fished out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, “and this one has a special trick. He can do Divinatory Deduction on the ‘chain of events’ that follows any word I say or move I make. No wonder the Interrogation Specialists got nowhere.”

“…A Prophet?” the guard asked.

“Hard to say. I have never heard of a Prophet joining Angel Cultists. And if he were a Prophet, how did we catch him so easily? I think he is influenced by the Angel behind him and got some Spirit Vision type power. Lucky me,” Song Cheng said.

The guard listened in silence, then stopped his lighter hand: “Sir, no smoking here.”

Song Cheng froze, then awkwardly pocketed the lighter and cigarette.

His phone rang.

He checked the screen. The annoyance on his face vanished. He answered fast and forced a smile: “Director? No, no, I just finished and have a minute. Please go ahead… huh?”

His expression turned odd. He listened for a few seconds, then spoke carefully: “Tell him? Is that appropriate? Letting him join in… he is not internal staff of the Special Affairs Bureau. All right. If that is your call, I will phone him.”

He hung up and stared at the dark screen, mood complicated.

The guard watched curiously through his visor.

Song Cheng waved him to wait, stepped aside with his phone, hesitated, then dialed a number.

After a short ring, a voice came through: “Hello? Captain Song?”

“Ahem, Yu Sheng,” Song Cheng coughed twice, then said, “quick thing. Remember those two Angel Cultists you tipped us off about? The Special Affairs Bureau caught them. The Director asked me to check if you would be interes-”

He did not finish before a rushed answer cut in: “I’m in!”

Song Cheng blinked: “Uh… then I will send someone to pick-”

“Send someone to the fifty-four and a half floor to get me. I am already here.”