Generation X pt. 3 ch. 1

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"Updates!" the sergeant hollered as he pace back and forth, scanning the room frantically. The room was in complete dismay. File cabinets hung open, papers were scattered all across the floor.
"Sir!" a young blonde woman called out, staring at the computer; her fingers clicking the keyboard just another dull sound amongst the chaos. The sergeant moved quickly to her desk and leaned over to the monitor. A file was opened on the monitor, revealing a long list of words.
"It's a known group sir, they call themselves 'CMepTb'"
"What in god's name is shamret?"
"Um, its pronounced, 'smiert' sir. It's Russian." the woman answered matter-of-factly.
"Well then," he responded, trying to seem un-phased by his horrid pronunciation.
"So wha-" the opening of the office door choked away his words. A slender man with glossy black hair stepped in, slowly adjusting his eyes to the bright light behind his square-lensed glasses. He kept his hands in the pockets of his black suit.
"Ah, CMepTb," he stated, ignoring the fact that the room had fell silent at the sight of his arrival. "The classified, yet secretive group." he said, articulating his words perfectly. The sergeant glanced at him, taking note of his black suit.
"Damn reporter," he muttered, turning to get a good look at the man.
The suited man narrowed his eyes at the sergeant. He responded with a sigh. Everybody left the conversation to the two men and went back to typing.
"What do you know?" he snapped, stepping closer to the reporter.
"I know where your girl is," the reporter responded, side-stepping away from the intimidating sergeant.
The sergeant's expression softened. He glanced to the ground and closed his eyes.
"w-where is she?" he stuttered. The woman at the desk turned her head slowly to face the sergeant. Not once had she heard him stutter; and definitely not emotionally. The reporter looked at the disarmed sergeant and smiled.
"Well, I would say she's tied up in a cold, dark room. She probably only has about half of her clothes, and is probably surrounded by a bunch of armed, male guards." he stated sarcastically
The sergeants eyes flew open with rage. He clenched the reporter's throat in his massive hands and slammed him up against the near wall, causing the file cabinets to vibrate. Everybody ceased working and turned to the struggling reporter who was clawing at the constriction around his throat.
"YOU BASTARD!" the sergeant screamed, causing his face to redden as the reporters whitened. The reporters eyes grew wide, as if he were being attacked by a grizzly. The woman ran up to the sergeant, face flushed.
"Sarge! He's the only link we have to her so far! Let him go!" she stated quickly, putting her hand on his shoulder. He ignored her. The reporter started making a gagging sound, using everything he had to get some oxygen to his deflating lungs.
"Sir! Please!" the woman begged, becoming deeply concerned. The sergeant stared long and hard into the eyes of the reporter.
"Fine," the sergeant said, letting go of the man's throat and turning away. The reporter took a long drag of air and started coughing vigorously. He started taking in short, quick breaths as he put his hands up to his fire-red throat. The sergeants hands were outlined in white on the man's throat.
"Thank you sir," the woman sighed, returning to her desk. The sergeant nodded.
"Thank you-Thank you sir-I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean any harm-sir-sorry sir. " the reporter babbled, stating each part of his sentence in-between breaths.
"good," the sergeant acknowledged the fact that he had set the man straight. "however," the sergeant started, straightening up his stance. "if you ever, ever, say something near that again, I won't be listening to Blondie here's advice." the sergeant emphasized. The woman at the desk smiled.
"yes sir." the reporter agreed. "I didn't know you cared about her so much sir," the reporter muttered, looking to the sergeants back.
"she's-" the sergeant cleared his throat calmly. "of key importance." he said strongly, keeping his gaze straight.
"to whom may I ask? sir?" the reporter questioned, starting to stand up a little more than he originally was.
"to," the sergeant paused, peering over his shoulder. "the nation," the sergeant growled, looking back to the huge screen that covered the wall.