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When Jordan was brought back to Paradigm, he said he was more than willing to answer questions - in fact, he wanted to. Just one condition: He was all but starving, so he wanted food before anybody asked anything.
That was an hour ago. In the interrogation room, Jordan has polished off most of Paradigm's lunch menu, two big deep dish pizzas, enough Whoppers to feed a family and a borderline obscene amount of Coca Cola to wash everything down. Finally, though, after a frenzy of devouring everything in front of him with desperate speed, he slumps back in his chair, looking stuffed and ready for the agents whenever they decide to come in.
"They've been kind of shootin' first and askin' questions later since I broke out. Best case scenario, they put me back in that hellhole."
The smile vanishes from his face, and slowly, reluctantly, he pulls himself into a proper sitting position, thinking on Murdoch's question.
"That's a lot to cover, dunno if you'll believe it all. Somethin' you should know first: I didn't shoot that lawyer. Didn't know who the fuck he was until Chicago PD tried to blame me for it."
"I don't know. Wish I did. What I know is they locked me in a room like this for a whole day, not letting me eat, sleep, use the bathroom, drink water, see a lawyer, anything, until I signed whatever they put in front of me. Turned out it was a confession."
He lets out a bitter laugh. "PD's cleaner than it was fifteen years ago, but there's still a lotta dirt if you look enough. Dunno if those officers were connected to the people who had me, but those assholes are workin' with the prison. That or the warden's too damn stupid to know there's a whole lab under his jail, stickin' people with... somethin'. They took me down there, jabbed me in the neck with a needle, said it was 'Boost's granddaddy'. Something about maps?"
He points to the side of his neck, where he was injected. "Whatever it was, it gave me these powers. They've been doin' this for a while, too, there's a lot of people down there. Should've known somethin' was up from the beginning, I guess, but I was too damn scared to notice how quiet everything was upstairs."
"Shitloads of the stuff. When they had me in their infirmary, I saw whole crates with the label on 'em."
He seems to be able to read how ludicrous it sounds to Murdoch, in the agent's expression, as his tone gets a little defensive. "Why would I come all the way up here just to lie to y'all? Call that girl with the red hair in here if you don't believe me; she's a psychic, right? Did that weird memory-sharin' shit."
« Last Edit: Dec 17, 2015 0:42:00 GMT -6 by Aaron Silverman »
"They've hidden the entrances, probably don't let anyone go near 'em. Move shit in and out at night - I know when I got taken down there, they came to my cell at like midnight, knocked me upside the head. I woke up strapped to a table, about to get that MAPP shit put in me. But yeah, it's down there; when I busted out, there was this staircase, I came out on the prison grounds."
"I was bein' chased and shot at. Came out into the sun, standing on grass, there was a wall in front of me so I punched a fuckin' hole in it and ran as fast as I could. You can't imagine how good fresh air feels, how much you love the sunlight, when you've been trapped underground for months."
He shudders even thinking about it, closing his eyes. "Couldn't tell you where exactly in the complex I was, and there's probably multiple entrances. Sorry, I was just movin' as fast as I could to get out of there, didn't really take in the view."
"Not sure it'd be that easy. They know I broke out, they probably know I'd go lookin' for you guys. Think they'll really back down for two guys who walk up sayin' they're Paradigm?"