Jason nodded. "Same way I know that I'll always 'barely' pass the psych evals."
"Good to know," Agent Dalton said just as Bradley finally entered the room.
Both men sat down and got ready to take notes. Agent Dalton had a yellow legal pad and a pen. Jason opened his laptop and set it on his lap. At the side was a camera that would record everything, but perception in the moment mattered as well. While Bradley went over all of the generic information, such as the man's name, address, and place of work, Jason focused on Arturo's expression, looking to see what was considered "neutral" for this man.
Then Arturo broke in. "Why am I being held? And where the fuck am I?"
"Federal holding facility," Bradley told him. "You, Mr. Ganza, have been charged with domestic terrorism; infringement of interstate businesses, crossing state lines in the process; rape of a minor; rape; assault and battery; attempted murder; and more." Bradley tossed a paper at him. "There's a list, and I know they already read you your rights."
"I want an attorney," Arturo said.
Bradley nodded. "Sure. I can do that. But let me just throw something out there. We have an entire department of cyber specialists who are currently going through the data. All of it leads right back to you, but most attorneys won't really understand the nuances between a static and a dynamic IP address. So, if you'd prefer I ask your attorney why an IP address from Plano, Texas, is linked to the threats made during the time when you lived in - let me see, Plano..."
"Fine," Arturo grumbled.
"He's good," Agent Dalton breathed.
"He's a fed," Jason said, a little impressed with how far his partner had come.
And in the room, Bradley eased himself into the chair across from Arturo. "So, would you like to start with listing your accomplices?"
"To what?" Arturo asked. "You've given me a list of charges, but you haven't told me what I've supposedly done yet."
"Mm, right." Bradley pulled out a legal pad and began writing. "The FBI is currently executing a subpoena to a hosting company for all programs, information, and databases related to the forum for a group who calls itself the Kings of Gaming, specifically for a user who goes by the online handle of, um... Let me see. Yes, Soul Reaper. That's you, isn't it?"
Arturo scoffed. "I'm not Soul Reaper."
"Then who are you?" Bradley asked. "You see, we now have every technical device you had on your person. We know you logged into that site, because you had a burner phone with an icon for it, but it hadn't been used yet. Now, the fact that we can consistently match your location to an IP address on that site multiple times a year doesn't look good."
"I'm not fucking Soul Reaper!" Arturo yelled.
"Then who are you?" Bradley demanded.
Arturo just leaned his head back and groaned. "Yeah, see, I know how this goes. You want me to list off a name, and then you'll charge me with the crimes that can be tied to it, right? Doesn't matter which name I pick. You need a patsy, and I'm the one that'll work."
Bradley dropped a stack of papers onto the desk. "That's the report on logins that correlate with your known addresses. It seems that Cyber Magazine keeps very good records on where they send their journalists." Then he patted the stack. "This, Arturo, is called a pattern. What I want to know is why. What made you target Destiny Pierce, Nina Sarkovsky, Janna Meyer, Claudia Watson, Riley Andrews, Rhaven Moore - "
"Ethan," Arturo corrected.
"Her legal name is Rhaven Moore," Bradley assured him. "And there's more. Quite a few more. You see, when you made that post with your kill and hit lists? It gave us a reason to dig. A legal one. So now you have two options. You can confess and hope we'll give leniency during sentencing, or you can continue to fight against the growing mountain of evidence the FBI has gathered over the last eight years."
"Soul Reaper's a fucking pussy," Arturo snapped. "That asshole can't do shit on his own. If you've logged into the Kings of Gaming, then you know that's what everyone says. He needs the flunkies to do it for him!"
"Who is Gold Eagle?" Bradley asked instead.
That got Arturo's complete attention. "What? I've never heard that before."
"White Wolf?"
The man swallowed. "No idea what you're talking about. Those aren't names I've seen."