Helsing really wanted to kill something.

Not quickly, though. He wanted to watch it squirm, watch it whine and whimper. Thank the gods, he had such a specimen in front of him.

Suspended by his wrists, the revolutionary looked almost comical, his head hanging as he swung. the drain beneath him greedily swallowed all of the blood as it poured from the stumps that should have been feet. Red welts smiled from his skin, making Helsing enjoy his work. And the gurgling, pathetic sobbing made him know-he was doing something right.

"Now." Helsing made the word draw out. Play with his sense of time. He stepped forward, taking his next instrument from the tray. "Lets discuss who you sent her to. How much it was. And tell me the truth, because for ever credit you lie about," Helsing begin to drive a needle into the mans knee from behind, bringing out a sharp yelp, "I get another scream."

Helsing stripped away the blue gloves as he left the torture chamber. Four attentants marched in, to clean up the organs and body fluids. He removed the scrubs, and put on a new pair of gloves. He went to Davis, who was waiting for him, in the conferance room. "Nothing," he sighed, sitting down. Davis shrugged in response. "Clearly he was a lackey." As if on cue, a paper pusher came in, handing Helsing a wave. Helsing raised an eyebrow as he read, then his breath caught.

* * *

Both were in the conferance room. Davis was standing, and Helsing looked out the window. He could tell this was a dry run-nothing concrete would come out of it. But it was necessary to collate all data. The Fed came in, pompous, sitting down hurriedly. "Sorry about that. We had some unrelated trouble-" "We're not interested in your problems, Commander. We're here about a robbery on Paradiso." "The medical supplies?" The Fed was confused. He shrugged. "Word came that was returned." Helsing lost patience. "We didn't travel sixteen thousand miles to find a box of Band-Aids, Commander." Davis could tell his friend was becoming angry, and smoothly cut in. "We're looking for a girl. This girl." He slid the photo of the Tam girl accross the desk, as the commander finally saw the blue-gloved hands, and swallowed. Dear god. . . Helsing held up his hand-someone had reached him on the communicator. "My Lord, we have just received word. Your son. . .he's active, and is apparently coming after the Academy. He just broke away, and. . .we cannot seem to find him." Helsings jaw clenched, and he snapped the com in his hand in half. Oh, how Brink would be punished for this. . .such a prodigal son.