The room was bright, flooded by the golden sun as it filtered in through the stain glass window that covered nearly the entire back wall of the office. Aside from the many coloured shards of glass, the image of the Son was imprinted, standing tall, looking down on any who would step foot inside. Upon the walls hung pictures of religious depictions, including Da Vinci’s famous Last Supper, and over the door hung a cross. Between the paintings and various religious ornaments, were bookshelves on both sides, neatly filled with all manner of books. In the centre of the back section stood a large luxurious desk and fine office chair. On the desk stood a large computer screen, a neat stack of papers, writing utensils, keyboard, a large Bible and a golden name plate that read Erik Schröder. 

“I am a soldier of the Lord, a warrior in His army. Devotion is my armour, the Gospel shall be my sword, and with it, shall I smite those who wander from His will. Bless me, O Lord, bestow the strength upon me so that I may complete Your work. Let me—,” 

There was a loud knock at the door. 

“Amen,” the man cut his prayer short. 

There was a second knock at the door. 
 
“Enter!” the man called out, interlocking his fingers, placing them before his mouth as he stared at the door with hazel eyes. He was clean-shaven, in good repair, hair neat and tidy, wearing a full suit with a perfect knot at his neck. While relativity young, his face was sharp, his brow strong as stone, he looked several years older than he truly was. 

Another man walked in to the room. He too was well groomed, many years older and in a suit. “We’ve found her, Mr. Schröder. She is in our custody now,” he reported, standing in the middle of the room, several feet before the desk. 

“What does she know?” the man at the desk showing very little interest one way or the other. 

“She hasn’t divulged any information,” the other man seeming a bit uneasy at the admission. 

Erik stood from his desk and walked around it. “Take me to her,” 

With a nod, the other man led the way, out of the office. Erik locked the door behind them and left it in the hands of the two armed guards standing on either side of the entrance. Following the other man, it was a bit of exercise, a nice brisk walk to the holding chambers. They entered what was akin to an interrogation room one might expect from a police station. A small room with a table and two chairs, all three bolted securely to the floor, and a pane of one-way glass. Standing inside the dark room, looking into the interrogation room, he could see the young woman handcuffed and collared inside. 

“It has been approximately fifteen minutes since her injection,” the man informed. 

Erik held out his hand, another man handing him a manilla folder, which held information on the woman. His eyes glossed over the paper rather uninterestedly before handing it back. With another hand out, he received a small remote control. Adjusting his jacket and his tie, he walked out of the room, entering the other, all in the previous room keeping a close eye on what would happen. 

“Ms. Marconi, I presume?” he said as he entered, sitting opposite the dark featured woman, mid twenties, seemingly good health. 

“Yes,” her eyes staring up at him.

“Do you know why you are here?” 

“I believe in freedom,” she stated.

“You were caught organising alternative meetings which intend to work against the Church. Several soldiers sent to the meeting place were injured with one killed. We have reason to believe you are also in possession of mutants and/or are one yourself,” Erik spoke calmly and articulately, though hints of his accent bleed through.  

“What? Soldiers? Mu—? No! We are not mutants,” she moved forward in the chair, leaning over the table with her arms pinned behind her back. “We simply offer a safe environment, letting the people of this oppressed society be whom they wish,” 

“They are no safer than in His hands. Explain then the situation of my men,” 

“I-I-don’t know. There were no soldiers!” 

“Perhaps this will refresh your memory,” his finger slid up the control, pressing one of the buttons. The woman convulsed uncontrollably in her seat, she twitched and squirmed where she sat until the button was released. Her breathing turned ragged and strained, staring up at the ceiling as she was limp over the arm of the chair.  “There is only one way this will end. Give me a name and you’ll live,” 

“I don’t know! You must believe me! I don’t know any mutants,” she pleaded. 

“So, you do not have any knowledge of mutants?” 

“No,” 

“Very well,” he said calmly. He put the controller down, putting the woman at ease. He motioned with two fingers towards the window. Moments later two men walked in, one a guard, the other an old priest. 

The priest went to work giving the woman her last rites, much to her confusion. Once done, the priest left the room and the guard took the woman out, Erik following not far behind. She was dragged out to another wide open room where she was put on her knees before a large wall. Holding his hand out, the guard gave him a pistol. Erik held it in his hands, taking aim and pulled the trigger before handing it back to the guard. The woman slumped against the wall, her blood and brains splatted onto it. 

“One down, four more to go,” Erik breathed heavily with slight air of boredom and annoyance in his voice. He walked away from the scene accompanied by the other suited man and the guard. “Whose turn was it to get lunch today?” he asked casually as they walked to the next holding room.