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[b]//START PLAYBACK//[/b][/center]
[i]
[We view the scene from above, tucked into the upper corner of the room. It’s small, dark, with concrete walls and concrete flooring, a single light suspended from the ceiling; no more than a light bulb clinging onto a thin tangle of wires. Directly below it lies a man bound to an operating table, straps restricting his arms, legs and head from moving. The security camera is of great quality, the best that can be afforded, and so it’s easy to tell that he’s afraid. Sweat beads on his forehead, dark patches of it visible on his clothes – a tank top and boxers. His jacket and pants lay discarded on the floor, next to the feet of John King, dressed smartly in a suit and tie, a saw held in his right hand. A vicious sneer adorns King’s face. He’s furious – but more than that – he’s enjoying this.]
[/i]

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  So, tell me again, Mr. Morgan… What exactly were you tasked with doing last night?

[b]MACK MORGAN:[/b]  Y-you wanted me to kill th-that gang leader… Tobias Whale.

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  And what, pray tell, happened?

[b]MACK MORGAN:[/b]  I-I messed up. There was a shootout. Then – then this girl – Green Arrow’s sidekick –

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  Speedy.

[b]MACK MORGAN:[/b]  She crashed through one of the windows, started – she started beating everyone up, left and right. I-I’m telling you, sir, she didn’t look like no sidekick. Sh-she took care of everyone – even knocked Whale unconscious – and then she… she turned on me. She asked me who s-sent me… W-why I wanted to kill Whale...

[i][King rests the sawblade on Morgan’s throat. He’s seething.][/i]

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  And what… did you tell her?

[b]MACK MORGAN:[/b] Please… Mr. King…

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?!

[i][Morgan closes his eyes, trying to jerk his head away from King. The bonds hold him tight, however, and all he can do is wriggle as he weeps in fear.][/i]

[b]MACK MORGAN:[/b]  I – I only told her that the King sent me. P-please, Mr. King, I didn’t expose you! She knows nothing!

[i][He breaks into a fresh bout of crying. This time, he doesn’t hold any of it back. His tears fall freely to the floor.][/i]

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  Hmm. I suppose so.

[i][King lifts the saw from his neck, turning away from Morgan in mock-contemplation – then in one quick, fluid motion, turns back to slit his former employee’s throat. Blood cascades from the wound. Some of it seeps into King’s suit, a spray of dark red, appearing as if out of a Jackson Pollock painting. Faint choking sounds can be heard as the life slowly leaves Morgan’s body. King wipes a stray spatter of blood from his cheek.][/i]

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  Idiot. Of course you exposed me. These capes are nothing if not persistent. She won’t stop until she finds out who I am, and brings down everything I stand for.

[i][He takes out his phone and taps the screen, then holds it against his ear.][/i]

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  Polly. I need you to get me in touch with the hitman – Onomatopoeia, yes, that one. 

[i][He sneers.][/i]

[b]JOHN KING:[/b]  I have a job for him.

[center][b]//END PLAYBACK//[/b][/center]