67: Shoot the Messenger

                A sense of dread settled in my bones as we rode out into the woods once again. The smell hit me before we pulled to a stop beside a derelict looking cement block of a building. The scent of old blood, mixed with dirt, filth and the stench of decay and death was enough to turn the stomach of the most hardened warrior. “What the fuck is this place?”

                “Not all interrogations can be done with words alone,” Dmitri frowned at the moss covered grey wall. “The fact that Nathan thought this was the best place to meet worries me.”

                “So it’s a torture shed?” I was happy that words were the only thing I managed to vomit at the moment.

   &n