To counter that, he scowled and addressed them brutally as he laid the papers he had brought with him on the table’s surface. "You want to hang every one of them, right?" he barked, and the affirmative response was almost overwhelming. He slammed the palm of his hand onto the table he stood before and demanded again, "And how many of you will pull the ropes and hold them up long enough for these men to die, slowly, while pissing and shitting their pants as their life leaves them, while they thrash at the end of that rope and gasp for mercy? It won't be pretty. It will be the ugliest thing you've ever witnessed ... and done. Show me how many of you are willing to hold that rope tight," he asked. This time there was silence as the crowd before him absorbed the implications he’d put forth. Slowly, three or four hands rose. One was a woman, the other few men, and Sokowski nodded. "As the Reaper just mentioned, we've been interrogating the prisoners and questioning the former captives, some of who are in this room right now.
