Silently, Cap led Brock through hallway after twisting hallway, her hand glued to his lower arm. There were several moments when he wanted to ask where they were headed, but her fierce expression glaring back at him whenever he started to slow down silenced his tongue. Eventually, she dragged him to a halt in front of a door slightly more ostentatious than the many they had passed. A translucent panel sticking out above it bore the words “Director Shimada” in bright orange.

“Look,” she began, “I don’t care what the Director asks, you tell him when you crossed over, you heard a voice.”

Brock opened his mouth to explain that he actually had heard a voice, multiple voices in fact, but she pressed a finger against his lips.

“You heard a voice, and it was Starak’s.” Her visible eye pierced into him. “You tell him that, or so help me, I’ll find a way to make you hurt forever.”

Brock tried to swallow but his throat was unnaturally dry. He made do with a nod.

“Good.” Cap turned towards the door. “Make sure you remember that.”

She used her free hand to draw a sigil in the air, phosphorescent trails dragging behind her index finger. With a final flourish, she punched through the center of it, and it split apart in glimmering shards. The door in front of them slid open, revealing an impenetrable veil of coruscating energy. She pushed Brock towards it, and he flinched as he passed through.

There was a moment of discontinuity, as if everything was suddenly somewhere else, and then he emerged into a well-appointed office.

Luxurious leather chairs flanked low glass tables set in the front half of the room, head-height floor lamps casting a warm illumination over them. An imposing granite desk dominated the back half of the room, and floor to ceiling windows behind it revealed the azure sky Brock had seen on his trip up the roots, but now shading more towards indigo. Massive green leaves the size of small islands were visible in the distance, drooping down in wide-spread clusters, and through them Brock could see twinkling lights. After a second, he realized they were stars.

Just how high up are we now? he wondered.

There was a grandiose chair behind the desk, more like a throne, but despite the copious amount of light flooding the room, it was hidden in impenetrable shadow, with only the barest visible outline of a sitting figure.

“Take a seat,” a deep baritone commanded from the unseen person, and Brock felt himself stumbling to obey the powerful words. He pulled out one of the leather chairs by the glass tables and sank into it, the leather slightly cool against his skin. The figure behind the desk rose and walked over, stepping out of the unnatural shadow.

It was an older man with iron-gray hair, close-cropped on both his head as well as his beard and mustache. Three long scars ran across his face in a ragged diagonal, as if something large had clawed him savagely long ago, drawing pale lines from his eyebrows through his lips and into his chin, and his eyes were a clear and piercing blue. His black suit was sharply tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular frame.

He also had dark, moss green skin, and a pair of ivory tusks jutting out from his lower jaw.

What the heck kind of person is that?

He stopped in front of Cap, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“My condolences, Captain Swift. The whole department shares in your loss. Starak was a good man.”

“He’s not dead yet, Director Shimada, sir,” Cap replied firmly. The Director frowned, and lowered his hand to his side.

“Ahh, yes, Yuriel sent me the initial Appraisal report, along with your notes. Quite an odd one indeed. There is much in there that she recommends further investigation on.” He ran his other hand through his short hair. “She does not share your conviction about your fiance, however. She seems quite insistent that two intelligences sharing the same body is impossible.”

“I know what I saw, Director,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Starak is still there. We need to find a way to recover him.”

“All in good time, Captain,” the Director told her in a soothing tone. “All in good time. First, however, I must debrief this young man. Brock, I believe?” he asked, turning his head to the side. “Brock Unmanly?” Brock nodded shakily.

“Uhhh, yeah. That’s me. Except, uhhh, my last name is Manly. No ‘un.’”

“I see. KB does enjoy their games. Now then, Brock, has your situation been explained to you?”

Brock nodded again.

“Uhhh, I think so. Somehow, I’m in this guy, Starak’s, body, and, uhhh,” Brock gulped, “I guess I killed him?”

“Quite so,” the Director said sternly, taking a seat in the leather chair across from him. Behind the chair, Cap crossed her arms over her chest and gave Brock a single-eyed death stare. “Quite so. Now, we recognize that this isn’t entirely your fault, but we still must hold you accountable for the death of one of our people. As such, there are two ways this can go.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Brock’s stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud, interrupting the Director, and he blushed. He really was extremely hungry. The Director gazed at him for several seconds, unblinking, then moved his fingers through a complicated series of motions. The air over the table shimmered and sparkled, similar to the veil across the doorway, and then an array of meats, cheeses, fruits, crackers, nuts, vegetables, dips, and other finger foods appeared on the table in a lavish spread, dropping neatly one by one onto a long silver tray that materialized with a pop of air. Saliva gathered in the corner of Brock’s mouth. He hesitantly reached out, then paused. Was it really okay for him to eat magic food?

The Director offered a brief smile, perfect white teeth visible beyond the ivory tusks.

“It’s not poisoned. I promise.”

Brock was too hungry to refuse, and immediately dove in to the charcuterie, though he tried to keep the lip smacking and enthusiastic grunts to a minimum. Unperturbed, the Director continued.

“As I said, there are two ways this can go. The first is where you fully cooperate with us, and in return, we try to find a way to harness your powers for the betterment of our society. You will not be allowed to use all of them, of course.”

“Why not?” Brock mumbled around a mouthful of cashews. The Director tented his fingers together.

“Even the weakest Sekkie we’ve ever encountered is far stronger than any of the natural inhabitants of our reality. Whatever mechanism allows you to cross over also imbues you with potent powers, and as such, we have no choice but to classify you as walking disasters. By cutting off those powers with the Limiters, we keep our society intact and our lives peaceful, instead of being the playthings of what, in some cases, could rightfully be considered gods.”

The Director tapped his index fingers.

“We are not stupid, however. We do recognize that your powers can be useful, and in fact, those same powers, properly directed, have enabled us to progress our standard of living far beyond what your reality enjoys. We would like to keep it that way, and thus, we make this offer to every Sekkie we apprehend. Work with us to help expiate your original sin of existence, and we will find a place for you in our world.”

Brock thought about how fast he had moved in that brief instant of freedom, how capable and wonderful his body had felt, and sadness grew inside him. It sounded like they would never allow him to relive that dream again.

“You said there was a second way?” he asked morosely. The Director nodded.

“Indeed. That way is where we lock you up in our most secure prison, make sure you get three solid meals a day, and never see sunlight again until you die of natural causes. Oh, and we’ll interrogate you for information the entire time. There may be some light torture.”

Brock sighed. He figured it was going to be something like that.

“Guess I’ll take the first way,” he mumbled, and the Director smiled.

“Excellent! I was hoping you would. There are many who choose the second, convinced in their arrogance they can somehow find a way around the Limiter and regain their full capabilities. They never do, of course,” he added, “and all our lives are better off for it. Now, I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to answer them completely truthfully.” The corners of his mouth briefly tightened. “Be forewarned that dishonesty means you are not cooperating fully, and thus our only option will be to pursue the second way. Do we understand each other?”

Brock finished off one last slice of something he thought might be salami coated in an apricot glaze, and leaned back in the chair, bracing himself.

“Uhhh, yeah. Fire away, I guess.”

“To start with - what was the last thing you remember from your previous life, and what was the first thing that happened after that?”

Brock felt his stomach drop. The Director was looking at him with mild interest over the tops of his fingers, while behind him, Cap’s scowl intensified. Don’t screw this up, she mouthed. He gulped.

“Well, uhhhh, I tried to save a cat from a truck, but I tripped and hit my head real hard.”

Mikael’s strange warning from earlier battled in Brock’s mind with Cap’s current threatened violence, both overshadowed by the Director’s specter of lifelong imprisonment and torture.

I really hope I can thread this needle properly, he moaned silently. I have to tell him the truth, but maybe not all of it.

“Then I closed my eyes, and I’m pretty sure I died? But I thought I kind of heard a voice. It said ‘save them,’ and then I woke up in that big room, and there was this weird old guy trying to kill me. It didn’t work, so he tried to kill them,” Brock pointed at Cap, “and so I stopped him. Then he ran away. Into the floor. It was weird. I punched some skeletons and they exploded.”

“Mmmm, interesting,” the Director murmured. “You say you heard a voice, in between closing your eyes and waking up. Do you know whose voice it was?”

Brock figured that if Cap’s eye was a laser, they wouldn’t need the Limiter to vaporize him, because her intensity would have already accomplished the feat. He gulped again. Somehow, he had the feeling the Director would know if he told an outright lie.

“I’d never heard it before, sorry.”

Cap’s expression turned murderous, and the Director smiled slightly.

“It would have been strange if you had, seeing as you didn’t yet exist in our world. Captain Swift,” he said, raising his voice slightly, but not turning around, “can I trouble you to play a recording of Operator Vandal’s voice? I’m quite certain you have one somewhere on your magiphone.”

Cap’s thunderous look faltered as she realized what the Director was suggesting, and she pulled a thin rectangle from her pocket. She waved her finger in a sigil over it, then poked it with a few taps. A rich baritone emerged.

“Hey babe, you must be up to your ears in paperwork right now. I’m grabbing sushi for dinner, let me know what you want. Lov-”

The words cut off as Cap stabbed furiously at the rectangle, her visible eye welling up with tears, but Brock was stunned by the voice. It was a dead match for the one he’d heard, or felt, from the shade in the gray place.

That’s who used to live in this body. That’s who asked me to tell her that he loved her. That’s who I killed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “that was it.” The Director regarded him thoughtfully, then nodded.

“Most interesting indeed. It seems we cannot rule out Captain Swift’s premise quite yet. If there’s anyone who’d come back from the dead to protect his squad,” he went on more softly, glancing down at the table, “it would be Starak.” Cap turned her back to them, her shoulders hunched and shaking softly, but she remained silent. The Director raised his eyes to Brock’s, and his expression turned grim. “Now then. On to more pressing matters.”

Brock tensed. What on earth is more pressing than appearing in someone else’s body, he wondered.

“What were the most popular anime in your world when you crossed over to ours?”

Brock goggled at him in baffled confusion.

“...whut?”

“Anime. What types of shows were trending on the major sites? Also, any information you have on up and coming light novel categories would be helpful as well, along with a list of the top-selling manga. Oh, and the top ten webserials, if you don’t mind.”

Brock’s mouth slowly fell open.

He had no idea what the Director was talking about.