I grabbed my new crossbody bag and paper shopping sack, following Drakon as he led me down the stairs into the compound’s sub-level. The air down here was cooler, heavy with the scent of concrete, steel, and old dampness.
Dr. Vance was already in the interrogation area when we pushed through the reinforced doors. He had his medical kit open on a metal table, pulling a fresh pair of black latex gloves over his hands. In the center of the room, the two Vipers were secured to heavy steel chairs—the shooter looked terrified, while the one I’d shot in the shoulder was slumping forward, pale and groaning.
Vance looked up as we walked in, his eyes cutting straight to the swelling along my face before glancing at Drakon.
"I patched up his shoulder enough so he won't bleed out on your floor,"
