Either they accepted the answer, or they're going to kill me.
"They're not going to kill you, if that's what you're thinking," came another voice. This one was different, a gently accented male voice, properly schooled in speech. It was a heavy contrast to the growling metallic shouts of the other. "I'm surprised you remembered so quickly, Luther."
The use of his true name shocked him. He had not been known by that since before the wars. Only his wife had ever called him that since he had become a part of the organization.
"Do I know you?" whispered Aesop, still in pain from the recent beating.
He felt a hand reach around his neck and untie the sack bound around his head. He was grateful, regardless of who this was.
The flood of light from the gnomish gas lamps hurt his eyes, but it was a welcome pain compared to the odor of the sack. The room was blurry to him, but even his skewed vision told him that it was expectedly non-descript.
"Worry not, your eyesight will clear eventually. Just the effects of the chemical agent used to secure your cooperation. Terribly sorry about that."
Aesop looked up and saw a lanky blur standing over him. This man's hair was graying, even moreso than Aesop's own, and he wore a properly stitched suit. The man looked as though he belonged at a noble's party, not in the dank dungeon cells of this place.
He continued speaking.
"As I said before, I was quite impressed that you remembered the creed so early. It gives me faith that we may be able to recover other operatives like you."
He stopped and gave Aesop a sideways glance. "Hmm, perhaps I misspoke there for a moment, eh? There truly weren't any operatives quite like you, were there?"
Aesop did not respond. The pain in his abdomen was subsiding, but it was still throbbing. The after effects of the poison were still clouding his senses, though.
The suited man walked his way over to a table in the corner of the room where flashes of steel revealed the various interrogation tools waiting to be used.
"What do you intend...with me." He was able to control his breathing a little better now without the sack.
"You know what we intend, Luther. You knew what we intended when we came to get you, and you know what we intend now." The man was facing away from Aesop, apparently manipulating some tools picked up from the table.
After a brief moment, the man turned around holding a frighteningly large syringe made of bronze and glass. A sickly green liquid sloshed around the vial that sat inside the device.
"The question is not what we intend, but what you intend." The man approached Aesop with the syringe and plunged it deeply into his neck.
The pain burned away all conscious thought before Aesop blacked out a second time.
* * *