Snippet #768228

"How many?"

"Four. Including the Sergeant." The man, almost twice Sol's width, bald with thick, piggish eyes, shuffled his feet.

"Really? That wasn't necessary. But four's enough," he said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth then throwing it to the floor. He ground the embers into the concrete with the heel of his boot then turned to open the door to the main part of the warehouse.

"Uh- Sol, one of them just took a chop at Taton's throat. Poor bastard's lying down in the carrier round the back; he might need to see a doctor..." said the thug, apologetically.

Sol arched one eyebrow then turned back to the door. He paused before he pulled it open, hand resting on the metal bolt.

"Take Taton down to the safe-house on E'Leth Street, then call Dr Gupta, say I've asked him to take a look." The other man nodded tentatively, as if waiting for something. "And don't worry, Monty. You can have a go at the SOOC officer once the time's right," added Sol with a smile.

Monty grinned slowly then reached out his hands in front of him, cracking his knuckles in satisfaction. Sol watched him with inward boredom but outward neutrality. "Thanks, boss," said Monty. "Wandrir's teeth are gonna be my bowling pins when I get my hands on him."

Once the other man had lumbered away, Sol threw back the bolt and walked into the main warehouse, the sound of his boots on the hard floor echoing across the empty space. It was dark in here, with only a solitary window high above them letting a little second-hand light shine into the dimness and illuminate the figures chained to the floor and the lines of Sol's face.

They were all here. The four SOOC members- fresh from their little ambush that morning. And then the two other prisoners; Berais and Mauro- both new acquisitions and, although Sol knew who they were, he hadn't yet seen them in the flesh. Still, they could wait until later.

"If you're clever," he said, his voice cutting through the hush that had fallen upon his entrance. "And I expect you to be, since you passed your SOOC training, you'll probably be wondering, how your crack squad managed to be ambushed by amateurs like us..."

Sol paused taking in the hatred and steely stares like an actor looking out over an audience from a stage in a theatre. They probably weren't used to this; the female SOOC officer shaking and bewildered in chains in the corner certainly wasn't. They had no idea of the fear that was practically used as a currency down in the world Sol in habited.

"Any suggestions?" he asked.