Simon Tam felt his emotions drain out as he looked at the man before him, a member of the upper echelons of Alliance parliament. A man, that apart from having key information regarding the Underground's next secure target, also had information on the Academy where River was being held.

It was the latter item that interested him the most. He turned to the unconscious prisoner before him and felt his misgivings fall away. His hands, which had previously been shaking with nerves and hesitation, stilled as the strength of his resolve filled him. In his mind he felt the change overcome him, the coping mechanism that made him able to do what he was going today; the man before him had changed categories. To Simon Tam, the government official before him was now simply a resource, a stream of data concealed in a hunk of meat. And it was time to operate.

The prisoner, a man by the name of Sebastian Porter, awoke with a groan, eyes fluttering as he regained consciousness. Taking an inventory of the room he began to panic as he noticed he was strapped down to a type of dentist's chair and that his limbs were unresponsive. Some movement to his left drew his attention and he visibly calmed at the sight of the familiar face of Gabriel Tam's son.

"Simon, my boy. Did something happen? Am I in a hospital?"

Simon looked up from where he was pulling on a fresh pair of latex gloves. "No."

Their eyes met, and Porter shivered though the room was warm at the emptiness that looked back at him.

Doctor Tam stepped close, looming over him as he prepared an intravenous drip. "I have some questions that you will be answering for me," he intoned.

As he started to swab Porter's inner arm he explained the purpose of the iv before inserting the needle with a dispassionate demeanor. "This here will keep you awake and focused while we...chat."

Now entering the realm of panic once more, Porter experienced a growing sense of pure terror with the question that followed.

"You know where my sister is being kept. And you will tell me, dong ma?"

….

Dawson Richards shivered as Doctor Tam brushed past him. Tentatively he entered the room where the prisoner was being kept to begin the cleanup he had been assigned. Upon registering the contents of the room he bolted back out again gagging and shaking in fear and revulsion.

The victim had been strapped to the chair in the centre of the room, facial expression frozen in a rictus of pain, gore and blood spattered across his arms and torso, a pool off blood saturating the floor.

A whimper sounded from the room and Dawson choked on his own spit. The victim was still alive.

"P-please," a breathy sob. "Let me die?"