Chapter II: Conversation All-Stars
When Aran woke up again, he felt mangled. His chest hurt all over and his head was pounding slightly. It took a while before he regained his senses, only to conclude that he was wearing a light blue nylon five-point harness, strapped to the chair he was sitting on. Looking down, he also noticed that the chair was bolted to the floor, so even though he could freely move his arms, Aran could not get off the chair. In addition, his coat was nowhere to be found, just like his shoes.
The chair was located next to a table, facing another chair that had been placed straight across. Not counting the aforementioned furniture, the room was empty, save for the single fluorescent light straight above the table. It was a room one would typically see in a movie or a television series about detectives.
Most of his body felt numb, except for those places where he had been hit by tiger paws somewhere in the recent past. As the wolf was trying to get his head straight, he heard a door open and close behind him, followed by a few pawsteps.
A Doberman in his late thirties had entered the room and sat down on the empty chair, throwing down a file on the table as he turned the chair around so the back was facing the table. The dog opened the file and took the first page out, along with some items he had taken from Aran's wallet. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a khaki shirt and dark green cargo pants, but his clothes did not manage to fully conceal his muscular body. Aran knew better than to be intimidated merely by someone's looks, though.
"Well, well, what have we here," the dog broke the somewhat awkward silence.
"You're... the guy from yesterday..." Aran muttered.
"I see, you're the observant type."
"Who are you? What do you want from me?"
The dog leaned over to Aran.
"Those two questions are probably the most clichéd to ask in a situation like this. Ironically, the answers to either of them won't get you anywhere."
"I think you're wrong. From my point of view, you could be one of Mason's guys, or you could be a cop that's working on some lead Chris has given you in order to catch me for anything you'd like. But guess what? I've got the right to remain silent!"
"Pipe down, Ahrran," the dog tried, but Aran interfered.
"Whoever you are, try to get my name right for starters. It's 'Aran', as in long 'ah', rolling 'r', short 'an', with emphasis on the first 'a'. It's not _that_hard, is it?"
The dog leaned back and waited for a few seconds.
"Are you done?"
Aran did not respond.
"Listen, this is how we're going to do this. I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them. I know your head might be a little foggy, but that's because of the painkiller we gave you. I want you to answer my questions in honesty and I expect you to refrain from trying to be the smart guy. As you have probably noticed, I can walk out anytime I like, while you look like you're going to be strapped to a chair for some time. That is, unless you be good and cooperate, got it?"
The wolf nodded.
"So your name is Aran. To make sure we've got the right person, state your age and species."
"I turned twenty last week and I'm a black wolf - wait, you can see that, can't you?"
"I can, but the microphone recording this conversation cannot. And remember what I said about trying to be smart? Not to mention about who's asking the questions."
"I do," the wolf replied with a tone of defeat, staring at his paws.
"Look at me, when I'm talking to you, Aran," the Doberman demanded.
Aran complied reluctantly, subconsciously tucking his tail between his legs.
"For the past three years or so, you have been living with a certain Mike, a brown bear with which you've committed various crimes. These crimes are for example, but not limited to, car theft, breaking and entering, and burglary, is that correct?"
"Wait, what is this about?"
"Answer the question, Aran," the dog demanded.
"Not until you explain why you're doing this. I want to know who I'm talking to," Aran replied resolute.
"You've got quite the attitude there, don't you think? Fine then, my name is Kaiser. I'm asking these questions to check whether my information is correct. For some time, I've been thoroughly investigating you. You probably wonder how long I have shadowed you and I can tell you the answer: longer than you'd like me to admit. See how the answers to those questions got you virtually nowhere?"
Aran gulped.
"Anyway, I'm not working for some kind of secret government agency and I'm not here to put you in jail. If I were, you would have been properly arrested and I can assure you that I know enough about your small crimes to have you put away for quite a few months. But, as I noted earlier, that is not the goal of this conversation. Are you content?"
"Somewhat," Aran responded after a few seconds.
"Good. Continuing where we left off: have you lived with a bear named Mike and committed various crimes with him?"
The wolf looked down again.
"Yes..."
"Eyes, Aran, they're up here," the Doberman injected.
Not wanting to cause unnecessary trouble, Aran raised his head.
"Your parents divorced when you were fifteen years old and you moved out at age seventeen, correct?"
Aran nodded.
"Please answer my question with an actual statement. Microphones cannot record gestures," the Doberman commented plainly.
"Sorry. Yes, that's correct."
The wolf was starting to feel uncomfortable. Not only did he lack any clue of the true underlying intention of the conversation, he also felt like the pain in his chest and back was returning. He groaned, partly because of the pain, but mostly because he suspected that the increasing pain meant that the painkiller was wearing off.
"Contrary to what you're probably thinking right now, I'm not going to hurt you. If I wanted to, I would not have given you a painkiller, would I?"
"Probably not," the wolf replied, slightly confused, his tail still between his legs.
"Rhetorical question. Anyway, you'd better be ready for the harder questions. Are you content with your present life?"
"I am."
"Really? I mean, obviously not counting your current situation, I recall very clearly that your best friend is in jail, betrayed by his partner. They could turn on you as well and, worst of all, your drug deal didn't quite turn out the way you liked, correct?"
The wolf wanted to nod again, but quickly remembered the microphone and responded with another plain 'yes'.
"So, let me rephrase: are you currently happy?"
Aran was now certain that the painkiller was wearing off. His head had started to pound again, which was not only uncomfortable, but also greatly distracting his already somewhat confused mind.
"I've had far worse, so yeah, I've managed to get what I want. Aside from the drugs, that is."
Kaiser paused for a short while.
"Interesting. According to your mother, you were anything but happy when you moved out. Judging by the friends you've made, the crimes you committed and the drugs you take, I think you're lying. Note that I don't even take your time in middle school in consideration, as that is a story of its own. So is your behavior on your high school, for that matter," the dog remarked with a sharp tone.
"B-but..." the wolf stammered, trying to find words to throw back at the Doberman.
A short silence followed.
"What's the matter, Aran? Lost your voice?"
"No! What do you want?" The wolf suddenly bit back.
Kaiser grinned.
"You still haven't caught up with the fact that I'm the one that asks the questions. My goodness, you're going to be a piece of work."
"Work?"
"See what you just did? Anyway, work, yes. Believe it or not, I got you out of that alley because I want to help you."
"Help me? But I don't need any help!" Aran said firmly, trying to physically emphasize what he said, but being held back by the harness. The nylon straps of the garment did not stretch whatsoever, causing the wolf to cringe from the pain he now fully felt again. Kaiser just sat there, looking at the bruised wolf with a blank expression, waiting for Aran to recover.
"Just let me go! I don't need your help! I'll be fine!"
"I don't think so, Aran. By the way, I can clearly recall you admitting to needing help," the Doberman commented with a grin.
"But when? I only met you yesterday and we said nothing!"
"Really?" Kaiser replied calmly, producing a voice recorder from the inside pocket of his jacket, "That's not how I recall it."
The dog put the device on the table, close enough to Aran to touch it.
"Go on, press the 'play' button," Kaiser invited.
The wolf reached out to the voice recorder, letting out a groan. His shoulder hurt, but that was of lesser concern. He had to know what Kaiser had recorded. Did they have a conversation earlier which Aran could not remember?
Curiosity eventually won over hesitancy and Aran pressed the button. It took a few seconds before he heard anything, but he was startled by Kaiser's voice.
"Need some help?"
"Yeah... I guess I do... You're not one of Mason's guys, are you?"
Kaiser hit the 'stop' button and put the voice recorder back in his pocket.
"As you heard, you admitted to needing help."
"But that was yesterday! I needed help getting back on my paws!"
"Believe me, getting on your paws is not the only thing you need help with."
"I don't need your help!" the wolf insisted.
The Doberman shook his head.
"I've observed enough in this conversation alone to say that you clearly could use our help. Besides, you admitted to needing help when I personally asked you if you needed any," he said, putting the paper and the other items back in the file. "Legally, this is a consensual agreement, although I'm fairly sure you'll disagree."
"You bet I do!" the wolf bit back, not caring about the pain the harness caused him anymore.
"Too bad for you. I've got all the answers I want, so that concludes today's meeting. By the way, Aran? It says 'gullible' on the ceiling," Kaiser said, pointing upwards with his index finger.
The wolf looked up. Instead of reading the word 'gullible', he looked straight into the fluorescent light. With his eyes slightly blinded and his mind wandering to find the meaning behind the strange comment, he did not notice that Kaiser had stuck a needle in him again. Given, the Doberman had targeted his neck instead of his arm this time, but the effect was generally the same.
"Night-night, Aran," Kaiser said with a chuckle.
'This is getting repetitive,' was the last thing on Aran's mind.