Chapter Text
Rescued by Bigfoot
Takes place between Skin Game and Peace Talks
"You don't need to know my name. Assume any appellation I allow you to use during our time together is not my legal name."
The young man paused amidst his cursory reading of the prepared statement and raised his beleaguered face to consider me. He was a young man. Very young. Only sixteen, if the file I had sitting in front of me was correct. And my files were always correct.
"Are you serious?"
"Quite." I pushed the topmost paper from the dossier out to him. "Kyle Redmond. Born September 12, 1998. A resident of Butte, Montana, high school drop-out. Only child of Gregory Redmond and Shannon Bates. Does this all appear in order?"
My files might always be correct, but giving witnesses a sense of control tended to put them more at ease. More willing to cooperate.
"It's pronounced 'butt,'" Kyle lied, smugly. When I didn't challenge the statement he added, "And I didn't drop out. I was following my calling, and the school board couldn't handle my budding talents."
"Departed over creative differences," I supplied.
"Yeah, exactly!" He settled more deeply against the uncomfortable metal chairs. "So if I'm not going to get your real name anyway, do you mind if I call you Agent K?"
I grimaced. An impenetrable poker face is one of the first things you're taught at the Library. The people we brought in could be unusually observant or possessing of untapped empathic abilities. Skills that landed them in front of us to begin with. It would defeat the whole purpose to send them home--for those who were allowed to--with more knowledge than was deemed necessary. But certain compromises made for the sake of plausible deniability within the entertainment industry had left many American citizens with a farcical preconception about who we are and what we do. Some of which were trotted out often enough that, in defiance of my training, it was starting to get annoying.
"Agent Jones will do," I said. "Mr. Redmond, will you tell me what you were doing at Yellowstone National Park on March 18?"
He gestured down at his statement. "Why bother? You guys seem to know what I was doing better than I do."
"I would prefer to hear it in your own words."
He hesitated a moment. "We were out filming a documentary."
"Who is we?"
"Seriously dude? My bud Jake Sherman? That other guy you hauled me in here with, remember? If you're gonna interrupt me about shit you already know we'll be here all day, Tommy Lee."
"Hilarious," I said, in a tone my last partner said was dry as old paint. An empath on staff had confirmed it was actually drier. "And what was your documentary meant to be about?"
"About how dangerous hiking in the woods can be."
"So it was intended as a PSA," I answered, turning his flippancy back onto him. "Very commendable. More so than, say, exploiting the disappearance of a dozen hikers for social media attention."
"Lay off, man! Competition's hella fierce. You can't worry about stepping on a few toes if you're gonna get subs."
I remained silent.
"Sides, it's been a year. No one's gonna find anything else but more pieces." His voice cracked, taking on a hysterical edge. "God, that shit was messed up man. People need to know there's something out there. Me, Jake and my brother used to go hiking in Yellowstone all the time and even we didn't know there was anything that could do, ya know, that."
"And what did you find out there?"
"A bear! This frickin' huge-ass grizzly came out nowhere and--"
"No."
He shrank into his seat.
"Mr. Redmond. I'm going to have to ask you to be very frank with me. No matter how insane or fantastic it might sound."
The sound of Kyle's chair rattling as he adopted a more comfortable position was discordant in the nearly empty room. He tugged his knees to his chest, silently shaking his head. All the bravado was gone. He looked more like a cornered animal than anything. Protocol discouraged us from being overly familiar with witnesses, but feeling nothing for this terrified kid was an effort not worth making. I had debriefed adults who had gone through half as much and been reduced to gibbering wrecks.
"You said that people deserve to know, Kyle. I agree. What you can tell me here, it might help people."
Protocol also discouraged us from telling outright lies. When it could be avoided. Sometimes it was just the most efficient course of action.
"Okay. Here's whatreally happened."