I know better than to run as these people lead me to another room. To my relief, it's not another dungeon, but a mundane office. It's fitted with bookshelves full to the brim with papers and outdated office equipment. So outdated, that instead of a computer I see a fax machine. There's a window through which I see a glimpse of the setting sun. I've been underground the entire day.
Hank sits at the desk and motions me to the chair for visitors. The other two men have stayed outside of the room, but being one on one with Hank only makes me feel less safe.
Hank smiles at me, as warmly as before, and I shudder. But I force myself to sit down.
"Who are you? Who are you, really?" I ask, digging my fingers into my jeans. It takes everything to speak without descending into scared sobs. "What are you going to do with me?"
