The room was widely lit of candles but then Funke couldn’t help being drawn to the darker side of the room; the side which the reading desk and books were shelved and a strange shadowy figure that wasn’t her’s stood. She wasn’t a bookworm but then again she couldn’t stop the urge of staring at the books on the desk as they kept moving time and time again from where they were placed. Although it was dark, Funke found comfort staring at it as she tried to decode the mystery surrounding it. “Did he send you…?” she began, albeit slowly to the shadowy figure. Her voice though being mild, was enough to be heard at night but then the figure rather proved it to be the opposite with his refusal to answer. The figure shifted from the position he stood to a far darker corner. Funke didn’t stop her eyes from following him though. “I don’t have it” she said again but this time in a different phrase, “…the files. They took it. The robbers, they shot me before I could do anything” she swallowed her saliva picking her words as she lay on the mattress. The figure picking offence with the fact the girl couldn’t shut up, turned to give Funke a glare before turning to another position while still mute. “I swear I wasn’t trying to run” Funke chimed in again; this time much to the figure’s annoyance. Can’t she shut up for once? It turned to ask only to end up glaring at Funke for the third time. He instead slammed his hand on a surface to send the message of his annoyance though careful to not let his anger get the better off him. Funke on the other hand felt she had every justification to question him seeing as he was the one who brought her there and without any word to indicate her fate. Who does he think he is? “Jesus…you can atleast tell me why am here” she sparked out airing her frustration and annoyance. One thing, she was quick to let her feelings out than in controlling them, another, she was quick to calming and apologizing. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, setting her voice for a benevolent tone. It was her apology. The figure caring less and more vested in his own peace of mind, turned to Funke point blank for the first time since she had woken, “You are here because you were shot and believe me once you are recovered, you will be out of here” he said; his voice taking over the entirety of the room and Funke herself. “So he sent you?” she maintained her benevolent tone seeing as it was what the figure replied to; her question though was triggered by her fears of the unknown and what lies ahead. Irritated but rather puzzled, the figure halted his mind to for once understand the girl and to know if she just acted like that based on some psychosis or hidden fear. “Who sent me?” he returned the question though directing it back at her. “Your master on the wheelchair” she responded. Unlike he was, she was quick in answering a question directed at her, “He knew what the risk was yet he asked me to do the mission…” she continued but this time increasing her voice pitch to pour out her thoughts. “What mission?” the figure in the dark interrupted, stepping out of the dark halfway. It was now he was picking interest in her gibbers. But Funke somewhat sensing foul somewhere, knew when to pause, “Are you not one of Patrick’s boys?” she fired. Forced to step back into the dark, the figure knew he had to be more tactical, “Yes…” he said, stepping back into the gloomy light, “What happened?” he questioned, with Funke staring at him; his mask on and eyes howling. Funke couldn’t see it though, but she could see something he couldn’t. “You are lying” she pointed out, “Who are you?” “Who is Patrick?” the masked figure rephrased. Funke knew then she had to up her game if she wasn’t ready to be at war on two fronts. This guy was already imposing as he was. “Nobody” she muttered returning her eyes to the shelved books to avoid the figure somehow figuring out if she was being honest. “Nobody?” the figure asked, turning her response to a question. He sighed looking at Funke. “Am sure if he was nobody you wouldn’t have been scared ever since I got you out of silverbird” he revealed, folding his arms, “Look if you are in any trouble, danger, it’s best you let the police or anybody know” he lowered his pitch and tone to advise. “I can’t keep you here once you are recovered” he added before turning his back literally on Funke. Funke felt her chest bump, “No one or the police can help me…” she notified, feeling the urge to opening up. “The man is beyond police or law” “A politician?”

Interestin thumps up