“Tip, tap, tip, tap, tip, tap”. This was the only noise Agent V could hear. From the brief glimpses he could gather by discerning the rippling pictures in the puddle by the cell entrance, it was the hourly watch guard rocking back and forth in his metal stool, counting down the hours until his day shift ended. Agent V was a prisoner in the South American fortress of Jeremy McWraith, a Wall Street Construction Tycoon connected in the disappearance of no less than 40 helpless souls. It became apparently obvious to V that this number was about to go up by one more.
“SLAM!”
The rotting wooden door that partitioned the dungeon from the rest of the castle burst open. The vibrations emanating from this event made the picture of the lazy guard popping up to attention almost indiscernible to V. His heart started beating at the inevitable arrival of his esteemed host.
There he was, there was the figure of Jeremy McWraith standing only 4 feet away from V. As Jeremy started screaming in anger, V could not help but notice the tumbled, scarred face, and the missing leg, only being supported by an ivory cane held firmly in his respective arm. In the other arm though, was a black suitcase with dark stains, which could be nothing less than blood.
“I'm going to give you a chance to get out of this easy V, just answer me these questions and I will drop you off in the jungle, where maybe you have a small chance of living. By damnit though, if you make me open this suitcase up, I will make you live in agony for months beyond this day.
If you were a vegetable... now listen to me (as his gnarled face approached V's ear)... what would you be, and why... DAMNIT ANSWER ME!”
Jeremy knew though that V wouldn't answer. None of the previous agents did either and he didn't expect any different.
V was thinking to himself “a tomato, i like the color red, and spaghetti bolognese is my favorite dish”. Boy was he hungry about now for a good meal, he had little food since his capture, and there was no promise of any in his quickly lessening future. He had little time to think before Jeremy slapped him across the face with a giant trout.
“Maby that was too hard for you.” stated Jeremy, in a cold rehersed voice. “Maby I need to start simpler. what is your favorite non visible light spectrum color, and why... and by the heavens if you don't answer me... do I really need to say what I will do next?”.
V and Jeremy both knew that these questions would never lead anywhere. V decided to have a little fun with Jeremy. “pass... next question !” Jeremy was not amused.
“you must answer or suffer the consequences” Jeremy stated bluntly, moving his hand closer to his briefcase after every passing moment.
“x rays... skeletons are cool” V muttered through the sweat and blood over his mouth. Obviously not his real favorite, but was good enough to once again move Jeremy's hand back to his cane.
“We are making progress, I'm glad you decided to come around” Jeremy lifted up his cane and jabbed it into V's shoulder blade and pressed hard. “No one's favorite non visible spectrum light color is X-Ray... do you take me for a fool?”. V did, but to avoid any more pain than he needed, he refrained from saying this.
“WHAT SUBATOMIC PARTICLE TURNS YOU ON!” Jeremy screamed as he broke his cane over V's head. “ANSWER ME!... ANSWER ME!” All V could do was think of the answer to himself “none, hot blonds do”. The blow to V's head had knocked some silent humility into him. The silence however, was not appreciated by Jeremy.
“Ahhh... so we have decided to remain silent have we.” Jeremy mumbled. V could now see Jeremy pacing back and forth, cigar lit and slowly churning out a sweet vibrant scent of locally grown tobacco. “Bring me some whiskey DJ (the fumbling guard from the beginning), me and my friend are going to have a drink”. With that, the guard walked away, whistling the tune to a Wheatus song playing on an old tinny radio. Moments later, V could once again hear the clanking of the guards belt. In his hand lay a fine old whiskey, aged and golden, color augmented by a ray of light permeating a small crack in the ceiling. Jeremy popped open the top and poured two glasses as the guard cut the ropes binding V to the chair. “Care to join me?” questioned Jeremy politely. V knew this was not a question, so he answered cordially, “I would love nothing better”.
“As a man from the south V, it is southern tradition to be thankful for what is kindly given to you by others. You must be thirsty V, take a sip of my whiskey. You will not find any better, and I know you are a man of class that does not refuse the offer of a kind old man such as myself.” They both picked up the glass and took in the essence of the fine spirit. “I have allowed you to live thus far V, and to this, you owe me a life debt. I have given you the gift of life, and all I ask from you is the answer to this question. Who has set up us the bomb?”
V knew this was the only question that Jeremy cared about. All that other banter was just for Jeremy's sick enjoyment.
WHACK!
DJ slammed the bottle of whiskey over Jeremy's head. The shimmering glass, and golden drops of alcohol refracted the light sporadically, in an almost mesmerizing light show display. Jeremy was out cold on the floor, he was not going to wake up soon.
“My name is Agent Dick “Teenage Dirtbag” Johnson, I assume you are V, I don't believe we have formally met. I have been sent here by Bob. He has come to make you an offer to join SF Bravo Force. I can not tell you what your missions will entail with us, but If you accept, know that there is no turning back. The only thing I can tell you is that your missions will be for the betterment of the common good of all.”
V answers without thought “I owe you and your organization my life... where do I sign?”
for all you TLDRers, press “Read More!” On the bottom to find out who the mysterious Agent V is!
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