The room was cold and dimly lit. The way the air vent in the ceiling was angled, the air conditioning hit the man sitting at the small table uncomfortably. He didn't like the cold; Isam could tell. He stood back a ways, his back facing the two-way mirror that looked into the little room. Off to his side, his partner, Brandon, stood with his arms cross. Isam took a step forward. He placed a photograph of a white, non-descript moving van in front of the man at the table. The picture was fuzzy, taken from behind. The license plate was just barely legible.

"Omar Bada. We could lock you up on the murder charge alone, but I believe you could answer a few questions first." Isam paused, pushing the picture forward. Omar glanced down at it, then lifted his eyes to continue his glare. "This picture was taken two days ago," Isam said, his voice clear, calm, and smooth. "The van was last scene in Winchester. We already know what was inside, what I want you to tell me is where you are hiding it." He rested both hands on the table, lowering his head to look the man in the eye. Omar only glared back at him.

"Tel has tisee," The man spat icily. Isam's hand struck his face almost as soon as the last word had left his mouth. 
"Hey," Brandon voiced from the corner, giving Isam a warning look. Isam didn't even spare him a glance; his eyes were focused on Omar. 
"Four hundred pounds of C4, now tell me, Omar, what to you intend on doing with all that?" Isam straightened his back and crossed his arms, looking down at the man.
"I am going to open a firework shop," Omar said with a smirk, wiping the spit the slap had left around his mouth on his sleeve. Isam didn't find the joke very amusing.
"Do you think this is a game? Do not misunderstand me, telling me where the explosives are will not keep you out of prison. However, I know an ex-soldier imprisoned on murder charges that would [i]love[/i] to share a cell with you. If you cooperate, he may not get a new cellmate." 

Omar chuckled. "Is that supposed to intimidate me? You are their dog; you bark at whoever they tell you because you think you are a better man for it. I can tell you what you are, Hajjar, you are a fucking disgrace to your country!" He jerked forward, delivering his words with a bit of spit sprayed at Isam. The knife seemed to have been produced from nowhere. Isam was at the man's side with the flat of the blade pressed against his cheek, the tip dangerous close to his eye, before Omar could even recoil. 

"You do not deserve a jail cell! Ebn El Sharmoota! You deserve to burn in hell, and I will personally escort you there!" He snarled, the hand not holding the knife grabbing Omar's face and holding it so that he could not pull away. Brandon took a couple hurried steps forward. 
"Isam, what the hell do you think you're doing!"
"Giving him what he deserves!" Isam replied to his partner coldly. Brandon cursed. 
"Dammit, put that thing away!" 
"Do not stop me; I will take out his eye." Isam pressed the knife a little harder, and finally Omar cracked. 
"It is in a warehouse on 23rd street! The old bottling company! I tell you everything, just get him away from me!" 

Isam relaxed, easing the knife down enough for Brandon to step closer and take it out of his hands. "Go sit down," He told Isam firmly, nodding to the folding chair on the other side of the room. Isam gave Omar one last venomous look before slinking over to it and sitting down in it backwards. He rested his arms on the back of it, his chin on his hands, so that he could continue to glare at Omar menacingly from across the room. Brandon took a deep breath in and let it out, then sat down in front of the table. He calmly began to ask more questions, and when Omar got smart with him, he would threaten to turn the interrogation over to Isam once more. After a couple hours, they had all they needed, and the two left to let Omar be taken away to his new prison home. 

"How come I always play the bad cop?" Isam asked with a grin as they headed down the hallway. Brandon gave a chuckle.
"Because you're better at it than I am. Did you see his face when you pulled that thing out? He almost pissed himself. Hell, [i]I[/i] got a little nervous." 
"It is a reliable trick, you have seen me do it several times." 
"And I swear to god, each time it crosses my mind that you might actually do it." Isam gave a slight shrug. 
"They would deserve no better." 

Brandon gave him a clap on the back. "True that, kid. Hey, what do you say we get some late dinner. I got this coupon for the Burger Shack in the mail and I'm dying for a southwest special."
"Well, if you are [i]dying[/i]," Isam said with a chuckle. "I suppose I will go to another one of your burger stands. But only if you drive." 
"Of course I'm driving, I'd like to actually get there [i]alive[/i]." 
"My driving has never killed you."
"Yet." 

The two swapped friendly banter most of the way to the burger stand. It was a hot, dry day; the kind that reminded Isam of his home country. The drive wasn't long, as most of the lunch rush had cleared off the streets. Brandon stood beside him in line, reading every item on the menu aloud to himself. 
"I thought you said you wanted a southwest special," Isam pointed out. 
"I like to know my options, kid. So sue me."

After they ordered, they sat down at one of the outside tables and ate. It was a quiet evening, which surprised Isam. Usually, the city was thriving this time of day. When they were done, Brandon drove him back to the office to get his car, then the two parted ways for the night. Isam had some things to take care of. The day before, a mysterious letter had appeared in his mail. It offered a meeting place and a time, to which he was supposed to show up. He would have assumed that it was some kind of ambush, had it not been signed by a man known at the Green Skull. Isam had heard of him; he did good work. But what interested Isam more was how the man knew his identity, and where he lived. What else did this man know? The only way to find out was to meet him.

Isam drove home and put on his usual getup, then headed out to the address on foot. When he arrived, it appeared that he wasn't the only one who had been summoned. This Green Skull fellow had been busy.