They locked him on a seat with blue metal restraints and placed a hood over his head. His beating heart eased down to a normal rhythm, his hearing picking up the sound of multiple people entering the truck and settling down.

The thought of transforming and defending himself with all his might crossed his mind. However, that thought disappeared just as fast. This wasn’t the time for resistance and violence. It would derail any chance at freedom he had. Plus, a part of him was interested in what HAVEN planned to do with him.

The truck rumbled and rolled forward. Where they were taking him, he couldn’t know. He opened the gates holding his cosmic life force and let a little flow through, just to test their security systems. Sure enough, the chains suppressed his life force, binding him. It felt similar to his time with the Hrímgard Legion and high queen Laufey. Only these chains were much weaker. This assured him some reprieve should the situation turn sour.

The truck screeched to a halt less than an hour after moving. So he deduced that he was still in Hermosville. Or a neighboring city if they drove particularly fast. They unfastened him from the chair and led him into a large room with exposed roofing, possibly in a warehouse. Then he was moved through multiple doors and security checkpoints. They searched and scanned almost every orifice of his body, by patting him down manually, and running him through multiple X-ray scanners.

“What the hell are you guys looking for?” he asked after his third trip through the scanner. “Let me know rather than wasting both our time.”

The operator didn’t even acknowledge him.

Thank God I didn’t carry Abigail’s rosary with me.

After the search, they placed him in a containment cell, nestled beside a corridor with many other cells of similar design, and they removed his hood. The walls, devoid of any windows, and floor were composed of the same blue metal they used to restrain him.

His saving grace was the wash basin, toilet, and shower, located on the right side of the small room. They took his clothes and replaced them with a white shirt and pants. Rather than fearing what they might have had on him, his mind was preoccupied with why he had given this body normal bodily functions. In his life force’s universe, when he was making his vessels, he had been so excited about going to Earth that he never stopped to consider adding quality-of-life updates to his human vessel. Now the powers that arrested him could watch him defecate through the camera he currently looked at.

Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea. He smiled and got up to use the toilet.

With no frame of reference, the passage of time proved difficult to measure. However, he estimated that he spent several days in monotonous isolation, occasionally broken by the bland grub, slipped through an automated chamber.

After spending a million years stuck in the heart of a sentient star, this isolation attempt to unnerve him felt like child’s play. If they intend to weaken his mental state, then they failed terribly at the first stage. His original physiology afforded him the patience to wait for a very long time, if it came to that. He lay on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, his mind calm and collected, when the heavy door sealing him in opened.

Like before, a mixture of HAVEN agents and Knights of Arixxer rushed in with their weapons leveled at him. They stood still, not uttering a word. He, too, paid them no mind as well, picking at the dirt stuck in his nails. The same agent that cuffed him entered the room. He was a skinny and tall man with brown hair and a week-old stubble.

“Stand up slowly and face the wall,” the man said. His demeanor was relaxed and his tone flat, like he was reading from a dictionary. “Then place your hands behind your back. Yep, just like that.”

Jalen complied. Although he was perfectly fine in solitude, it wasn’t exactly an enjoyable way to pass the time.

The man cuffed him. “Do not resist. Any attempt to resist will result in additional restraints.”

Then more agents pulled Jalen off the wall and pushed him forward. In addition to the cuffs, they placed a hood over his head and locked his legs together. Two agents handled him, each holding on to his biceps. The situation baffled him. They were treating him like the most wanted man in the country. Now, he couldn’t wait to see what more they had in store for him. They led Jalen through many doors, then secured him to a chair before removing his hood.

A bright bulb spilled white light from the center of the windowless gray room. Four cameras hung from each corner of the room. He sat at a table in the center of the room with the only other chair opposite him. The familiar, lanky agent entered the room and took the seat. Silence ensued as the man stole glances at him while he arranged his papers.

“I am Agent Mason with the Homeland’s Agency for Vigilance and Extraterrestrial Negotiation. HAVEN for short,” the man said, still immersed in his documents. “And I will be conducting this interview. You may not be familiar with me now. But I assure you, Mr. Nkanga, I am very familiar with you. Did I pronounce your name right?”

His family name originated from his father’s homeland, Nigeria. The specifics of its origins eluded him presently. But one thing that remained constant was that Americans had a hard time pronouncing the name. Not this agent, apparently.

“Yes, you did,” Jalen confirmed.

“Of course I did,” Agent Mason said. “I wouldn’t be much of an agent if I failed at that, now would I? Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Nkanga?”

He remained quiet, parsing through the agent’s words. One thing became certain to him. Mason stated his question to fish for answers. Only what answers they wanted from him, he didn’t know. So he chose to ignore the question.

Mason set his documents down, and leaned back in his chair, observing Jalen. “I expect you to answer my questions truthfully and to the best of your ability. Do you understand Mr. Nkanga?”

“Aren’t you meant to read me my rights about having a lawyer?” Jalen asked. “Miranda rights, was it?”

Mason leaned forward. “Humor me then. How would you go about contacting this lawyer? What funds will you use to pay your lawyer’s fees?”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

He lowered her gaze to his feet. However, his solemn facade was a ruse. The agent had just violated said Miranda rights. Rights that were supposed to be read to him.

“Could you kindly state for the record,” Mason asked, “your name, age, address and phone number?”

“Jalen Nkanga. Twenty-four. No address. No phone number.”

“Don’t play smart with me, boy. Where exactly have you been bunking up since your return?”

“Uh, The Narrows. At my sister’s.”

“I see.” Mason clasped his hands on the table. The creases on the agent’s forehead became more pronounced as he narrowed his eyes into slits. “What do you know about the demonic massacre?”

He paused. It was vital he parsed through any words the agent uttered to garner his intentions. The demonic massacre. It sounded a lot like what happened at Sancta Maria Monastery. His knuckles tightened at the thought of that spider demon, Jigoku Kumo. It was a struggle to keep his facial features neutral. Although, there was also the demonic attack in Midtown a few years ago when he was absent. Thinking logically, that was probably what the agent was referring to. It was a shame he spent the past few days while Ella acclimated to her new body, learning about Norse mythology. Rather than the massacre caused by demons in his home city.

So much to learn, so little time.

“Six years ago,” he said, “demons attacked Midtown, causing untold destruction and killing about a thousand people.”

That was all he knew.

Agent Mason nodded. “Were you in the city during the time of the attack? Yes or no.”

“No. Not during that time.”

“Interesting. So where exactly were you during the most violent massacre ever recorded in this city?”

He had deduced that it would come to this. He had prepared the best answer to nullify any leads the agent had. After all, everyone who saw him return to Earth was currently dead.

“I don’t know,” he said.

After Mason noticed that he had nothing else to say, he tipped his head back with confusion. “How is that possible, Mr. Nkanga? You see, I’ve been going through your records, and they paint a rather clear picture. According to them, you’re a young man of 24, no Alzheimer’s, no dementia, no traumatic brain injury, and no neurological disorders. You are clearly cognitively intact. Even I can remember exactly where I was when 9/11 happened. So, care to shed some light on how you could forget something as significant as your whereabouts during that time?”

“Look, I don’t know, because something happened to me a few weeks before that. I, uh, gained some powers and lost my consciousness for about six years, it seems.”

“So lemme get this straight.” Agent Mason sifted through his papers. “You became superhuman and blacked out for six years? When did this ‘something’ happen to you? Can you give me an exact date?”

“No, it feels rather hazy trying to recall what happened.”

“Then an approximation of the day should suffice. Was it before your graduation? After?”

“After.”

“Well uh, Mr. Nkanga. You know, I couldn’t help but notice something peculiar. It seems like your story has a habit of shifting depending on who’s listening.”

A spark of confusion flashed in his eyes. “What do you mean? That’s the truth.”

“The Truth, huh? I’m glad you said that word. What’s the truth? The story you coughed up now. Or the one you told your cousin. Something about you going on a pilgrimage, if memory serves me right.”

Then he almost burst into laughter. “What? That was clearly a joke. It means nothing. Plus, when I get out, I’ll be inquiring about the state of my cousin. I hope she was treated better than I currently am.”

“Are you threatening HAVEN, Mr. Nkanga?”

He shrugged, trying to raise his hands in a gesture of innocence. Unfortunately, his hands were chained to the underside of the table. “Nope. I’m just worried about my cousin. That’s all.”

Mason paused, reading his documents. “Let’s get back to that day you said you awoke your powers. How did it happen?”

Jalen thought back to that fateful day he met Tanarion, who whisked him into the world of cosmic gods and sentient stars. It crossed his mind to conjure up another false story. But all HAVEN would have to do is interrogate those men that Tanarion froze to disapprove of his false story. Furthermore, there was a high chance Mason had already pumped the men for information, considering how prepared the agent was.

“My mom died that day,” Jalen said, letting his genuine emotions about that day surface. “So I moved around the city aimlessly. My recollection of the events seems hazy now because I was in a dark place, but I remember some men coming out of a corner shop. They surrounded me and… uh. That’s all I remember. I must’ve awoken my powers then and passed out.”

Well, he couldn’t give up the full truth.

“So about your abilities, what exactly are they?” Agent Mason asked.

“I don’t know the full scope of what I possess, but regeneration is definitely one of them.”

“Can you freeze people in their tracks?”

Jalen shook his head. “No.”

“Can you teleport?”

“No.”

The agent jotted down something. “Are you familiar with SRA, Mr. Nkanga?”

Yes, I am.

“No, Agent Mason.”

“Well then, permit me to tell you what it is. The Superhuman Registration Act was enacted by the United States government and its allies to establish a system of accountability and oversight for individuals possessing superhuman abilities. That’s the basic history.” Agent Mason leaned in, pointing his pen at Jalen. “The crux of the issue is you failed to register your superhuman status with HAVEN within 30 days of the manifestation of said abilities. That is a direct violation of Section 1-102.”

“How could I have possibly registered? I was unconscious.”

“That is what you said, yes. The problem, Mr. Nkanga, is believing that to be true. As far as I’m concerned, you are a suspicious person who was present in Midtown at the exact location the demons emerged from three weeks later. Help me out here, Mr. Nkanga. Tell me the truth and every charge brought against you will be dropped. I can personally attest to that.”

He enunciated his next words. “I have nothing to do with the demons.”

“Very well, Mr. Nkanga. For your failure to register during the specified time frame, you will be fined $5,000. Your one-time monetary reward issued upon registration has been seized as well.”

“Fine,” he said. “Does that mean I’m free to go?”

“Of course. If you can wait just a moment. Do try to register in a timely manner. You don’t want a repeated offense charge. It can be very costly considering your difficulty with money.” Agent Mason grabbed his documents and headed toward the door.

When he grabbed the door handle, Jalen spoke. “Just one more thing, Agent Mason. I intend to file a formal complaint with the appropriate authorities regarding the treatment I have received while in custody. That includes the excessive duration of my confinement without breaks. Not to talk about my right to legal counsel being denied as per the Miranda rights. I made mention of it earlier, and yet you never attempted to provide it for me.

“I will not remain silent about the injustice I have experienced. Utilizing all available resources, I will raise awareness about my situation and seek support from the public and advocacy groups. I am sure the Hermosville Herald would like to hear my story.”

Mason turned with a pained smile. “Like I said. Wait just a moment.”

Then the agent bolted out the door.