Chapter 41: The Scientist’s Gamble
Dr. Marcus Vance stood in his private lab, the rhythmic hum of machines providing a backdrop to his thoughts. The sleek, sterile environment was exactly how he liked it—predictable, controlled, and under his command. On the holographic display in front of him, data flickered in rapid succession, charts and readings from the latest tests on the biofeedback inhibitors embedded in Foster and Blackwell.
The inhibitors, his own creation, were nothing short of revolutionary. They were designed to suppress a metahumans dangerous abilities without shutting them down completely. It was a delicate balance—one he had perfected after years of research. These weren’t crude devices meant to simply cage a metahuman’s power. No, Vance’s inhibitors were smarter, attuned to their specific physiology. They adapted to fluctuations in emotional states, keeping the boys’ abilities in check without causing damage to their bodies.
He was confident in their effectiveness. He had to be.
As Vance adjusted the display, a soft chime signaled the door to his lab sliding open. He didn’t look up. He knew who it was before she spoke.
“Dr. Vance,” Agent Talia Reed greeted him as she entered, her voice calm but carrying the usual professional edge. She moved with the same precision as always, efficient and controlled, much like the environment Vance had cultivated in his lab. “I have the latest data on Blackwell’s emotional and physical responses.”
“Put it on the display,” Vance said, his tone clipped but not unkind.
Reed stepped forward and, with a swipe of her tablet, transferred the data to Vance’s screen. He immediately began analyzing the new information, his eyes flicking over the numbers with an intensity that came naturally to him. Blackwell’s readings were stable, even if his emotional responses remained muted. The inhibitor was doing its job—keeping the boy’s power in check without stifling him completely.
But there was something else in Blackwell’s data that intrigued Vance, something beneath the surface. Despite the emotional detachment, the power was still there, simmering, but controlled. It was proof, to Vance, that his inhibitors were doing exactly what they were designed to do.
“He’s stable,” Vance muttered. “As long as we maintain the current levels, he’ll remain manageable.”
Reed stood silently beside him, her gaze flicking over the same data. Vance appreciated her steady presence, though he was aware that she didn’t always agree with his methods. Reed had a tendency to be more… compassionate, more invested in the subjects as people rather than assets.
“What do you think, Dr. Reed?” Vance asked, not bothering to look away from the screen. “Still concerned about Blackwell’s emotional state?”
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Reed hesitated for a moment. “His emotional detachment is very concerning, yes. But it’s the suppression itself that worries me. We don’t fully understand the long-term effects.”
Vance smirked slightly. “You worry too much, Talia. The inhibitors are finely tuned. They’re designed to adapt to the fluctuations in their powers without overloading their systems. If there were any risk of long-term damage, we’d have seen it by now.”
Reed folded her arms, clearly not convinced. “And what about the psychological effects? Suppressing their abilities may be affecting them on a deeper level than we can measure. Especially Blackwell.”
Vance waved a hand dismissively. “Psychological effects are a secondary concern. Our primary goal is containment. The rest is… manageable.”
Reed remained quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed slightly. Vance could tell she was still uneasy. She had always been more empathetic toward the subjects, particularly Blackwell. Perhaps it was his emotional detachment that drew her in, or maybe she saw something in him that reminded her of her own struggles. Either way, Vance didn’t have time for such sentimental concerns.
“Look,” Vance said, turning toward her and leaning against the edge of his desk, “the inhibitors are working on them. Better than even I anticipated. Foster and Blackwell are stable. Their powers are being kept in check, and we’ve managed to avoid any more… incidents. That’s all that matters right now.”
Reed didn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on the data in front of her. “But what about Keene’s suggestion? Stronger inhibitors on them. More direct control.”
Vance snorted, shaking his head. “Keene is paranoid. He thinks brute force is the answer to everything. My inhibitors are perfectly sufficient. If we push them further, we risk destabilizing their systems. The current levels are precisely calibrated for their physiology. Any more, and we could cause more harm than good.”
Reed raised an eyebrow. “So you’re confident in your design?”
“Of course,” Vance replied without hesitation. “These inhibitors are state-of-the-art. They are built to last, to adapt to the fluctuations in their power. There’s no need for stronger measures—especially not the crude methods Keene is suggesting.”
For a moment, there was silence between them. Reed didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. She knew Vance’s reputation, knew that when it came to the science of metahuman control, few could rival his expertise.
“What about Foster?” Reed asked, changing the subject slightly. “His emotional volatility makes him more of a risk than Blackwell.”
Vance’s expression darkened slightly. Foster was indeed a problem. His powers were tied so closely to his emotional state that any spike in stress or anger could result in a dangerous outburst. But even with Foster, Vance was confident that his inhibitors would hold.
“Foster’s situation is different,” Vance admitted. “But the inhibitors are working. We’re suppressing the worst of it, keeping him from reaching dangerous levels. As long as we continue to maintain control, there won’t ever be another Galewood.”
Reed still seemed unsure, but Vance wasn’t interested in her doubts. He knew the risks. He had seen the footage of the Galewood explosion, had watched Foster’s power tear through the city. But that was before the inhibitors, before Vance had implemented his designs. Now, the boys were under control—his control.
“I know you’re concerned, Talia,” Vance said, softening his tone slightly. “But trust me. We have the situation under control. They aren’t the first people we’ve used these on after all. Plus the Academy’s leadership expects results, and that’s what we’re delivering.”
Reed nodded, though the tension in her posture remained. She turned to leave, clearly still wrestling with her thoughts, but Vance stopped her.
“Oh, and Talia,” he added, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Make sure Keene doesn’t get his hands on this data before I do. I don’t need him interfering with my work.”
Reed hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Understood.”
As she left the lab, Vance turned back to his holographic display, satisfied. The data confirmed what he already knew: the inhibitors were working. Foster and Blackwell were stable, and as long as they remained so, there was no need to implement Keene’s heavy-handed tactics.
Vance glanced at the small vial on his desk—the prototype for a stronger inhibitor. He had developed it at Keene’s insistence, but he wasn’t convinced it was necessary. His inhibitors were already the most advanced in the world. There was no need for overkill.
Still, Vance couldn’t shake the feeling that Keene was planning something. The man was ambitious, ruthless, and he wouldn’t hesitate to push for more control if he thought it necessary. But Vance wasn’t about to let Keene undermine his work. He had spent years perfecting his designs, and he wasn’t going to let some military brute come in and ruin it.
For now, though, he was in control. Foster and Blackwell were contained. The Academy was secure.