Dylan Sommers
"Please, Mr. Sommers. Help us out." the interrogator rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Okay, let's try again. What was T.E.C.H. planning to do at Venezuela?"
Dylan just lied on his cot, staring at the ceiling in complete silence. For a change, he seemed to be better than the last time. The interrogator kept jotting down on his clipboard.
"What were you all trying to do at Venezuela?" but still nothing. The interrogator let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his forehead again. "Look, I'm not like the other guy. I don't condone torturing, okay? It's counterproductive."
"Like a give a shit."
"Okay... w-- why did you really join T.E.C.H.? You could've just refused, you know."
"You don't really know anything, Mr. Pencilneck." Dylan rose from the bed and headed where the man was, "No one on earth could've helped me with my problems."
The interrogator stuttered as he was going to say something, but he kept quiet.
"Hey, speak up, I can't hear you. If T.E.C.H. didn't help me to control my powers, what, your people would? Yeah, right." the interrogator looked uncomfortable at Dylan's badgering, "What does all of this stands for, anyway?"
"You are prisoners for being a threat to public safety."
"Bull! You don't know jack shit. You're just a damn puppet, doing, hearing and saying whatever they tell you to."
"You are unstable. The powers and the technology you all used was deemed a threat to humanity. You deserved to be stopped!"
Dylan facepalmed, trying to contain his laughter, "Whatever, man." he jumped back into his uncomfortable cot and stared back into the ceiling.
The interrogator, flustered and frustrated, left the containment area while the prisoner's cell walls opaqued themselves.
