Oh shit. He’d killed a superior. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach, and he bit his cheek hard to distract from the nausea. The last thing he needed was to puke in front of his interrogator.

“Agent DePleur,” he said, keeping his voice carefully even. “Yeah, I know him. Knew him, I guess. I was assigned to guard the mayor a few times. Public events and stuff. It looked good to have something like me up there with him, you know?” The dehumanizing phrasing slipped out instinctively, a habit he was too far gone to notice.

“I saw what Agent DePleur did to people. I know they were criminals, they deserved it, but...” He grimaced slightly. Flashbacks to Raven Rock—blood, bruises, a metal gauntlet crunching into his cheek. “It was ugly, sir. He had a lot of enemies. I just don’t know who would still be, uh, capable of doing something like that once he was done with them.”