by James Peters
Inquisitor Natastia Briggam snapped a weighted baton against the table, making a thunderous crack. “This is an official Imperial Failure Inquisition. I will ask you questions and you will answer them fully, without holding any information back. I will decide what is important. Do you understand?” She wore a tight-fitting business suit, designed to accentuate her shapely legs and thin build. Her eyes burned with an intimidating glare.
Denton broke eye contact, saying, “I already told you everything. Why are you asking me?”