"The subjects. The prisoners."
The woman with the sword spoke up first. Reynolds half-expected the press secretary to jump the gun and give her two cents, but it was rightfully so, as there seemed to be gears turning along with each member of his small audience. He turned to her and nodded along as she spoke. So she was bothered that they were taking people from Azkaban? Why? Did Death Eaters have some compassion for their fellow man now, that they actually cared
what happened to the wizards they tossed into that god-forsaken hole? Interesting.
He mused, as if he were turning his own studies on the reactions and behavior of the panel.
"Someone has to have known, right?"
But before he could answer, Ms. Chase finally spoke. The name she brought up did ring a bell. Even though he reported directly to Fischer, there was a vague recollection of someone named Hunt being present. He nodded, this time pointedly at her as if to answer her question. Then again, before he could answer, his mouth clicked shut when she called him out on his wording from earlier. Obliterated. He used that term so casually, and now it felt as if he couldn't speak, he was wide-eyed and perspiring even worse than when he came in. "No!"
He blurted out, in response to Delilah's question. "N-no...I...I don't think that, sir. I-I truly do not."
Ultimately, and reluctantly, Dr. Reynolds shifted his gaze to the Dark Lord, but he didn't look directly into his eyes. He simply couldn't. Reynolds wasn't above groveling, and he needed to dig himself out of this hole he'd fallen into. He expected--nay--wanted him to say something to add to this, even if it was an addition to the verbal onslaught of the two women at his sides, to give him a chance to bounce back and gather his thoughts to make sure they were in the proper order. He gulped, hard, like rocks or glass it was that intense. When the Dark Lord's voice never came, he took a deep breath and tried his best to recover from this, and it was only the beginning of the Questions and Answers portion...how the hell was he going to make it through this?
"With all due respect, Ms..."
Dru narrowed her eyes. "Windsor."
"Windsor. The prisoners of Azkaban were p-properly vetted. Records studied for their behavior, involvement with resistance, anyone who might have crossed the regime. F-Fischer found it more suitable to the cause than picking just anyone off the uh -- streets."
It wasn't a solid answer, but one that he hoped would suffice, before turning to Delilah. "I'm familiar with that name, b-but pardon me as I'm lowly r-representative. I just work there, I'm cooped up in the lab and Mr. Fischer is the one who d-dealt with the partners and investors. I just do as I'm told and I was told to come here to present Chimaera to the Dark Lord, you your honor, to showcase what we've been working on, to gain approval of your grace and provide an example of our longest running t-test subjects."
His stomach was in knots, and it felt like blades were ripping apart his insides. "My Lord, I mean you no disrespect. I-I just meant that before when the p-project was in its infancy, there was no way could have had a successful presentation of our work as we didn't h-have a solid foundation to go off of. I do not wish to undermine you, sir, I uphold your authority as I would with any of the Dark Lords past or future..."
But was that the right thing to say? He gulped again.