Miss General

chapter 7

            “Sorry to disturb,” Officer Russell looks at Alex and then back at me, “But we’ve been interrogating the general and we thought we could use you to help get information out of the guy.”

            “You need me to? Can’t anyone else?” I ask.

            “Well we wanted to try you’re methods. It seems talking isn’t going to help.” He says.

            “Alright, take me to him.” I say.

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            “So there are all kinds of tools on the table. We chained him to the table so he won’t be able to move too much. I and the rest of the team will be behind the glass to listen for information and just in case you can’t handle him.” Officer Russell says.

            I nod and open the door. I see a small room with a table and a chair on each side of it. On the table is a pouch and on the one side of the table is the general. He’s sitting on the chair and is chained to the table. I go over to the table and roll the pouch open. Many tools glitter in the light. I stare at them for a moment before looking back at him and smile. I sit down on the opposite side of the table and look at him. He looks at me curiously.

            “So,” I start, “I’m supposed to torture you and all that but I decided we should talk instead. That’s another little tool I use for interrogation.” I say.

            The man just chuckles.

            “Whatever you say, doll face.” He says.

            “Glad you understand baby cakes.” I say.

            He looks at me curiously again.

            “Baby cakes?” He asks.

            “Yeah. You called me doll face so now I get to call you a little nickname.” I say.

            He takes it in for a minute before smiling.

            “I like it. Alright, doll face. Have it your way.” He says.

            I smile at him.

            “Good. So baby cakes, what’s your name?” I ask.

            “You don’t know?”

            “Nope, so if you don’t mind, please be a gentleman and tell me.”

            “Connor Smith.”

            “Mr. Smith. Nice name.”

            “Just call me baby cakes, doll face.”

            I laugh as he wiggles his eyebrows. He’s surprisingly calm in this situation but then again, I wasn’t really trying to interrogate him.

            “So tell me Mr. Baby cakes,” He chuckles at the name. “What’s your story?” I ask.

            “Anyone else’s story. Good childhood. Nice parents. Joined the army. Nothing special.” He says, nonchalantly.

            “Why was your childhood good?” I ask.

            “Just cause my parents were always spoiling me and I had friends and there was nothing to complain about.”