After passing through a security checkpoint that required Ivarsson’s biometrics, they walked into a massive downward-inclined hallway that opened into more maze-like corridors. It all felt so disorienting to her like she was a tiny ant trapped and lost in a sprawling anthill. Soon they reappeared near the central atrium on the other side, opposite where she first passed through on her way to the Holohabitat. Many advanced aircraft still lay below. She only had time to catch a few glimpses before they disappeared into more corridors. Thankfully, Ivarsson soon stopped at a random door that slid open.
In stark contrast to the drab, bare concrete walls of the corridor, inside the room spotted white walls that glistened like shiny metal, a vast network of powerful lights working to keep every corner illuminated. They stood in a narrow hallway. On either side, glass windows afforded her a glimpse into the adjacent rooms. On the left side, streaks of sparks and shavings were dispersed into the air as giant industrial robot arms cut and reshaped metal, while bipedal robots, strikingly similar to the dummies from the tests, aided in other avenues. It occurred to her that the room was sound isolated, not even a whisper of the machines grinding into metal gracing her ears. The room on the right seemed less hectic, with bipedal robots shuffling about and assembling things she couldn’t comprehend.
“Mrs. Nkanga,” Ivarsson called, standing in the doorway down the hallway.
“Oh, sorry.” She had slowed to a crawl, gawking at the synchronized efficient movements of the machines that she forgot herself.
Behind Ivarsson, she stepped into a spherical lounge with the only furniture being two round couches with a coffee table between them. Synapse sat on one side, staring off into a bare white wall as if in a trance, while another man, tall and lean with a messy head of hair, sat on the other side, observing Ella with a keen gaze.
“Take a seat, Mrs. Nkanga,” he said, motioning to the area beside him.
Instead, she chose to sit on Synapse’s side.
Undeterred, the man leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “The name’s Agent Mason, Director of the Homeland Intelligence Division, HAVEN. That ring any bells?”
Her brows furrowed with utter confusion. “Nope, am I supposed to know you?”
Mason ignored her question, whether rhetorical or not. “Your brother, Jalen Nkanga. How close are the both of you?”
Only now was she certain that this little excursion had nothing to do with her bypassing any security measures.
She shrugged. “He’s my baby brother.”
“Uh-huh. So where is he at this moment?”
Her mouth automatically opened to answer his question, but at the last possible moment, she stopped herself. The situation was highly unusual. Here she was alone in a room with two directors of specialized divisions in HAVEN under the intense scrutiny of one of them. This was an interrogation. And Mason’s interest lay in her brother. She looked to the quiet Ivarsson for help. Upon witnessing the harsh exterior the agent wore, she returned to the grizzled face of the man sitting across from her.
She shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
Mason proceeded with a flurry of questions. “For the past few weeks, can you give me an idea of your brother’s whereabouts? His activities? The things he said and the locations he frequented?”
Her heart was racing now. What did they have on Jalen? Moreover, what was her brother actually up to? The last time she communicated with him, Jalen stated that he was giving out a few curses. What that meant, she did not know. The truth of her powers’ origin was something she couldn’t divulge, no matter what. The complications it would cause to her career, as well as the ensuing security risks, were something she never hoped to deal with. After all, she was well aware that there were many powerful entities with a taste for gods, much less one who was new and inexperienced with the whole divinity thing like herself.
“I don’t see why I’m obligated to tell you.” She countered to all his questions.
Mason huffed. “You see, Mrs. Nkanga, your brother’s actions could have severe ramifications for your future with us. I hope you understand how dire this situation is.”
“If that is so, why not come out and say it? Tell me what he did rather than beating around the bush with vague threats.”
Her nervous demeanor gave way to a simmering annoyance.
Mason fell silent, his mind clearly firing on all cylinders as he assessed her. One thing she glimpsed from his calm but stern exterior was an inner rage. The man was hurt by something. Something he believed Jalen was responsible for.
Before Mason could counter with his next set of words, Synapse turned in their direction for the first time and spoke. “That would be all, Liam.”
“What? I’ve just started!”
“And I distinctly remember only awarding you ten minutes with her. Your time has expired. Besides, your issue is with one Jalen Nkanga. The lady here possesses a different name.”
“My issue?” Mason raised his arms in a gesture of frustration. “You’ve got to be shitting me, Hori. If we don’t get this shitshow under control, forget Howard ripping you and myself new assholes, or the goddamn Congress for that matter. We’d be lucky to scrape our sorry hides outta this shitpile with our skulls intact while the goddamn city burns!”
The only tell that Synapse was anything other than neutral came from the narrowing of her cybernetic eyes. “Director Mason. Let me refresh your memory in case you may have forgotten that I too, am dealing with a precarious situation. The Radiant Tower, outfitted with my security systems—systems you’ll recall were deemed impenetrable—was breached and subsequently subjected to an explosive decompression event. My comms channels are saturated with inquiries from no less than fourteen global intelligence agencies and the highest echelon of the United States government.”
Mason grunted and fished into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“No smoking on my premises,” Synapse stated.
“Why don’t you fuck off and shove that rule up your arse,” Mason said after lighting a cigarette.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Synapse stared at him for a few tense seconds longer before directing her gaze to Ella, who just wanted to shrink into the sofa from the heated exchange.
“Why do you want to become a superhero?” Synapse asked.
Like before, she took her time to parse through the words, pondering the angle the woman was coming from. It was plain obvious Mason wanted her brother. So what did Synapse want? In the end, she elected to answer the questions as truthfully as possible, unless anything about her godhood came up.
“So that I can go after Killer Cell,” she said.
Synapse locked eyes with her. “It also wouldn’t hurt to acquire the funds to pay off your debt.”
Shit.
Of course, they knew. Long before she ever stepped foot here, they would’ve learned everything there was to know about her.
“That too,” she added.
“What do you intend to do if you find him?”
She gulped as if something was lodged in her throat. The image of Rebecca’s lifeless form, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling of the ambulance, ripped into her mind. She tried as hard as she could to dispel the scene, yet her attempts were futile. Rebecca’s chest, torn through by bullet holes, remained. The dried tears caking her still eyes remained.
If Ella were to get her hands on the Killer Cell, only the presence of the Abrahamic God could stop her from doing the abhorrent things that raged in her mind.
Synapse, privy to her turmoil, inquired. “Are you familiar with the name Maxwell Davies?”
What is it with them and asking about random names?
“No.”
Synapse nodded, her eyes lighting up and projecting a screen. The face that appeared on the screen made her heart lurch and her blood boil.
“It seems you are familiar then,” Synapse said. “It would not do us any good if you had forgotten Killer Cell’s face so soon.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Mason interjected. “Why the hell are you discussing classified information with—”
Synapse silenced him with a raised, flat palm. “Liam, while I appreciate your passion, I trust you haven’t misconstrued this as a collaborative effort. This is my necessary corrective to rectify the shitshow, as you so eloquently put it.” Then her hand dropped. “Mrs. Nkanga, pay very close attention to what transpires in the next few minutes. Your firsthand experience, while commendable at thwarting the enemies’ advance at The Radiant Tower, what you know is a rudimentary understanding of this situation’s complexities.”
The projected picture of Max Davies began to move. Ella had to fight her simmering yearning for revenge to pay attention as Synapse requested. Davies appeared to be in the kitchen of a small apartment, the tiny living room serving as his backdrop.
“Do you know why we are having this talk?” A gravelly voice rich in maturity asked.
“Yes, sir,” Davies said. “I am well aware of the reasons for this summons.”
His tone sounded soft-spoken.
“What sources notified you?”
“A few of my former colleagues after the incident at the Tower.”
“State your name and title for the record.”
“Maxwell Davies. An operative of the Special Paramilitary Division, HAVEN.”
“Where are you stationed, Davies?”
Davies appeared calm, with slightly nervous undertones. “Brussels, Belgium, sir.”
“How long?”
“About two years.”
“What is your mission?”
“The apprehension of parties responsible for the global superhuman slave trafficking, as well as the liberation and rehabilitation of the victims.”
“Where were you on the day of the incident at The Radiant Tower?”
For the first time, Davies appeared uncertain, pulling his hands from below to rest them on the table. It turned out that he had handcuffs on. A muffled voice somewhere in the room, off camera, urged him to answer the question.
“I believe answering that question specifically constitutes a severe breach of protocol, sir,” Davies said. “For the safety of my agents and the victims caught in this mess, the best I can provide is a general overview of my whereabouts.”
“Proceed.”
“I was west of Brussels conducting surveillance, sir.”
“And you have a witness that can correspond with that alibi?”
“A few, sir. My partner and many other agents present on the field that day.”
The hologram shut off, leaving Ella grappling with an unsettling confusion.
Synapse, seeing her perplexed emotions mixed with anger, said. “Director Howard Burns conducted that interrogation days after the incident. I dispatched—”
“I can’t believe this shit!” Mason exploded, lighting another cigarette. “This is classif—.”
Undeterred, Synapse continued. “I dispatched a specialized team to Belgium to conduct a comprehensive analysis of Davies’ biological makeup.”
Ella felt like her head was fuming from the information overload. “What are you getting at exactly?”
“Max Davies is not Killer Cell, nor is he responsible for anything that happened that day.”
Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “But... I saw him. I was there!”
“You observed a biological facsimile,” Synapse corrected. “A molecular duplicate, precise down to the last base pair. With your background in biology, I expect you to understand better. Killer Cell left a lot of his biomass that day, which I studied extensively for weeks. My analysis revealed a complete biological match with Davies. Blood, tissue, even cortical mapping. Identical. Except for one key divergence: the power gene in the DNA that grants superhumans their abilities. Davies possesses a sonic absorption mutation, while Killer Cell’s allows for complete biomorphic malleability and mitosis on a human scale.”
“So you don’t know the true identity of Killer Cell,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.
“More accurately, he could be anyone. Anywhere. Potentially, different people, in many places, simultaneously. Our conventional methods of detection and apprehension are rendered... hopeless.”
“How about retracing Davies’ path before he left the country, ma’am?” Ivarsson said. “That way, we could see who he came into contact with, assuming Killer Cell requires skin contact to copy someone.”
“Won’t work,” Mason said. “The fucker has clearly been planning his moves for years. If I were him, I’d change into a hot chick, brush up with Davies in a seedy bar, then never use that disguise again. Unless we can nab the DNA samples of a shitload of people from across the street, we’ve got no shot at finding him.” Synapse’s knowing gaze on Mason made him lean forward with interest. “No fucking way. Don’t tell me you can actually—”
“Not yet,” Synapse admitted. “The prototype is in its nascent stages.” Then she turned to Ella. “This brings us to the crux of this unusual meeting. The pressure from the government and the president—”
“Thanks to his upcoming bid for re-election,” Mason added, then shrugged at the glare from Synapse.
“The pressure from the government and the president means a considerable strain on our resources and manpower to apprehend Killer Cell. The entire Radiant Assembly bar Metal Knight and Lightflare are hard at work currently scouring the country, which leaves a power vacuum for enterprising criminals. To rectify this conundrum, Howard is assembling a team whose sole focus is to hunt down Killer Cell and retrieve the Hypersphere he stole. Are you interested? Of course, this is assuming you pass the Superhero Assessment.”
“Yes.” she blurted out before her mind could even ponder the ramifications of the request. Here was a chance to go after the person who killed Rebecca. There was nothing to consider. No matter how elusive Killer Cell was, she would find him. No matter how long it took, he would pay for what he had done.
“Then that settles it.” Synapse stood from the couch, compelling her to follow suit. “Agent Ivarsson will escort you to the gate. Since you are finished for the day, I encourage you to get some much-needed rest for tomorrow’s activities.”
As she turned her back, Synapse added. “And do not fret over your morality, considering your hatred of him. You will find that some on the assembled team share a common animosity toward Killer Cell.”