I read your story and I could not help but grin at the comments. Could you elaborate from them?
"Bring them in ALIVE, understand?"
"Whole?"
"They need to be alive to stand trial."
"We promise the prisoner will be very much alive, and will be able to be made healthy enough to stand trial."
"Remember ALIVE means their BODY also has to remain alive, as well as the brain!"
"Don't worry, we promise they will be very much physically and mentally alive so they can be made healthy enough to stand trial."
I can just imagine this being on recording to remind the team their target is to remain ALIVE, mostly. And the target's face when they finally corner him.
From this. https://beta.peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-03674-j021-if-you-can-hear-this -- Anon Guest
[AN: I also followed up on this lead with Run, Rabbit, Run... So this one continueth]
"Can you please stop singing?" Zhetilli begged. Though the Alliance guaranteed certain amenities, others were up to the whims of her captors. If she hadn't already suffered a week of it, she might have thought herself lucky that it was only singing.
"I could always start removing your phalanges. Bone by bone," offered Urd. His smile reminded Zhetilli that these were, indeed, the most violently inclined Humans known to humanity.
"I'll... put on the headphones and watch some educational material," said Zhitelli, purposely choosing a place with some furniture between her and the Deathworlder.
Urd continued humming, but now he was playing with a butterfly knife in a meaningful way.
Zhetilli could not maintain a focus on her education. Her eyes kept drifting over to the killer in the room.
At least until another turned up. Mags, the one who usually held Urd's reins. They were the one in charge of the rest of the murderers.
"Urd," they said warningly. "We're charged to bring them back alive enough to stand a fair trial." Now there was an ominous phrase. "That includes physical and mental health."
"I didn't touch her," said Urd. "I'm not doing anything to her."
"Not directly," Mags hauled him out of his chair. "You're projecting an air of menace and threat. Out."
"You have to sleep sometime," grumbled Urd as he left.
So did Zhetilli, if she had to be honest. Too many times, she woke in the middle of her sleep cycle to realise that Urd or one of the others under Mags' rule was staring at her.
Malevolently.
Of the few who spoke, they all had the same thing to say.
"They won't let me play with you."
Zhetilli could easily intuit that they did not mean chess.
[Photo by Victor Freitas on Unsplash]
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