Cynthia woke slowly, awareness creeping in through the fog. Her head ached and her throat felt dry; her heart began to pound as she remembered the assault in the parking structure, but otherwise she felt fairly normal.

She had no idea where she was. The room was dark, but she thought she heard someone breathing, and somehow had the feeling that she was in a confined space, something no bigger than an au’tel room. She was seated in some kind of stiff-backed chair, her arms and wrists bound to the sides. She tried moving her arms but they held fast.

“Where am I?” She was halfway afraid to ask the question, but felt she had no choice.

A dim light snapped on behind her, illuminating the room. She was facing a wall with a small square of cloth attached that featured the logo of the Necktie Party. The sight of the logo, a hangman’s noose, made her heart beat even faster as fear surged through her veins. Her chest heaved as she sucked oxygen.

“Don’t be afraid.”

The voice came from behind her, and was altered to sound electronic, metallic.

“Don’t be afraid?” she said, her voice strained. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“This isn’t what you think it is.”

The voice had moved closer, and she heard the scrape of a chair as someone sat down behind her. She twisted her head in an attempt to see who it was, but in vain.

“Don’t bother doing that. You’re not going to see my face.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Necktie Party. Part of it, anyway.”

Cynthia’s mind raced. Somehow, for reasons she didn’t quite understand, her fear began to recede.

“What happens next? Tar and feathers, or a rope?”

“Neither. You aren’t in any danger, Mz. Howard. I didn’t bring you here to harm you.”

“All right…then why did you bring me here?”

 “You need to know the truth. You’re an honest reporter, the only one I could think of to explain this to.”

“Explain what?”

“The truth.”

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