“Something to say?” I ask softly.
“No, sir.”
I smile. “Your file says you have a wife. Two children. How far would you go to protect them?”
He pales. “Whatever it takes.”
“We’ll see.” I continue down the line. “The tests you face will strip away your humanity piece by piece. We need to know what remains when everything else is gone.”
I turn to address them all. “Those with true potential understand that morality is a luxury for the weak. Power belongs to those willing to do whatever is necessary.”
“Strip,” I command, my voice echoing through the warehouse. “Everything except boxers.”
The candidates exchange nervous glances before complying. Clothes drop to the floor, revealing varying physiques from sculpted to soft. Vulnerability makes them shift uncomfortably under our scrutiny.
“Pathetic,” Penn mutters beside me, examining the lineup with predatory eyes.
I press a button, and metal tables rise from beneath the floor, each bearing identical wooden boxes.
“Open them,” I order.
Fifteen lids lift simultaneously. Inside each box: a serrated hunting knife and a photograph.
“The person in your photograph is currently held in our facility,” I explain, watching their faces contort with confusion. “Some are criminals. Some are innocents. You don’t get to know which.”
I pause, letting the implication settle.
“Your first task is simple. You will extract information from your subject. We want to know the location of a digital file. Use whatever methods necessary.”
Grayson steps forward, his voice clinical. “Half of your subjects know nothing. They’re merely here to test your... discernment.”
A muscular candidate raises his hand. “What if they don’t know anything?”
I smile. “Then you’d better hope you discover that before you waste too much time. Because the last three to retrieve the correct information are eliminated.”
“And if we refuse?” asks another, the executive with the family.
Ari laughs, the sound sharp in the concrete space. “Then you forfeit. Along with everyone connected to you.”
I nod toward the far wall. It slides open to reveal fifteen bloodied figures already strapped to metal chairs.
“Begin.”
The candidates approach their assigned victims. Some hesitate, knuckles white around their knife handles. Others move with disturbing eagerness.
Blood spatters across pale skin as the first cut is made. A scream rips through the air, followed by desperate pleading.
“He’s innocent! He knows nothing!” one candidate shouts, backing away from his sobbing subject.
I check my watch. “That’s your assessment? You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Wrong.” I press another button, flooding his station with electric current.
Both candidate and subject convulse in synchronized agony before collapsing.
“Fourteen remaining,” I announce. “I suggest you work faster.”
