Captain Fitzgerald stands in one corner of the room, at attention with his hands folded behind his back. The air is eerily quite. Guard stand on both sides outside the door. Brandon, one of the two captives, still dressed in the torn and blood stained NLM uniform is dragged into the room. He's not resisting, allowing himself to be lead along. His uncovered flicks eye flicks across to Fitzgerald, and then the chair, before it goes wide. "Oh no," he mutters, trying his hardest to get out of the grip. Bang! Bang! The gun goes, but nothing from Brandon. He's out cold and out like a light.