of the commotion. Almost before he could rip the duct tape from the man’s lips, the restrained fellow commanded “Let me go, motherfucker!”

To the untrained ear, the tone of this command might have conveyed rage or even dominance, yet, Bernie could hear the true connotation. A plea was a plea after all, and he had heard hundreds of those. “Now, that’s not nice. No need for the name-calling, young man.” Bernie reprimanded in a voice which reminded one of a sandstorm or the tearing of Velcro. “You have every right to be angry, of course, but that type of talk will get you nowhere. Care to try again?” He said, perching himself onto a stool, almost bird-like with genuine attentiveness.

The captive breathed a loaded sigh, conceding the upper hand. He had been bound to the procedure table with dark brown leather straps which nearly matched his skin tone. He could not help but wonder what had been the intended use for them, if not for such nefarious deeds. The throbbing within the folds of his furrowed brow suggested a bludgeoning had occurred, or drugging, or both. The room spun around him as his stomach did inside of him. The impressive muscularity afforded by decades of athletics made him accustomed to positions of dominance. He didn’t speak the language of subservience. Finally, he managed, “Why are you doing this?”

“Ah, fair question, Marcus.” Bernie replied; the lack of hesitation suggested a familiarity with the dialogue. “Cordially, I am not a fan of the blacks.”

Marcus was stunned by the remarkable candor and had to repress a percolating sense of admiration for how open the man was with his bigotry. In Marcus’ experience, white people had always exercised at least some hesitation in approaching the subject of race with him. There seemed to always be a healthy layer of discomfort or fear acting as insulation. This man revealed no such buffer. “…or the Jews, or the Asians, or the Muslims for that matter… and the poor – I don’t care for them either.” Bernie continued. “But I assumed you meant to ask why I am doing this to you, specifically. If you were inquiring on a more macro level, well, I’ve kidnapped and tortured for a variety of reasons: money,