Federal Interrogation

Time: 2:00 PM, Federal Building, Downtown Manhattan

The Federal Building squatted in downtown Manhattan like a concrete fortress, its brutalist architecture designed to intimidate rather than welcome. Alex had passed through no fewer than four security checkpoints, each one more thorough than the last, before finally being led down a sterile corridor that smelled of industrial disinfectant and barely contained bureaucratic power.

Agent Torres was waiting for him in Interview Room C—a windowless box painted in the kind of institutional beige that made you want to confess to crimes you hadn't committed. The woman looked exactly like central casting's idea of a federal agent: sharp suit, sharper eyes, and an expression that suggested she'd heard every lie ever told and wasn't impressed by any of them.

"Mr. Chen. Please, sit." Her voice carried the flat authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.

Alex took the single chair across from her, noting that it was positioned slightly lower than hers—another psychological tactic designed to make him feel small and vulnerable. It was working.

"Before we begin, I want to be clear about something." Torres opened a thick file folder, revealing what looked like surveillance photos of Alex entering and leaving various buildings. "This is not an interrogation. You're not under arrest. You're not even officially under suspicion of anything. This is what we call a 'voluntary consultation' regarding an incident that may have national security implications."

"National security?" Alex's voice cracked slightly on the words.

"The Hudson River Gateway incident." Torres pulled out a tablet and activated a video player. "According to the official report filed by Iron Wolf Guild, a routine D-rank dungeon unexpectedly spawned a D-rank boss monster, which was subsequently eliminated by the team leader using standard B-rank techniques."

On the tablet screen, grainy security footage showed the entrance to the dungeon. Time stamps indicated the footage was from two days ago.

"Here's what interests me, Mr. Chen." Torres paused the video and looked directly at him. "According to guild regulations, all dungeon activities must be recorded for safety and regulatory purposes. Iron Wolf Guild submitted their footage as required. However, our technical analysis suggests that certain portions of their recording may have been... edited."

Alex felt sweat beginning to form on his palms. "Edited how?"

"Excellent question." Torres's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "It appears that approximately three minutes and forty-seven seconds of footage were removed from the timeline. Three minutes and forty-seven seconds during which, according to the audio track, something quite dramatic occurred."

She pressed play, and Alex heard his own voice, distorted by the dungeon's acoustics but unmistakably his, shouting warnings about the Tunnel Worm. Then there was a strange gap in the audio—a silence that felt unnatural, as if the sound itself had been carefully excised.

"Now, I've worked with awakened individuals for seven years," Torres continued conversationally. "I've seen B-ranks take down A-rank monsters through skill and determination. I've seen teams of C-ranks coordinate perfectly to defeat threats that should have overwhelmed them. But I've never seen evidence of an F-rank awakener engaging a D-rank boss and surviving, let alone contributing to its defeat."

"Maybe the footage was corrupted," Alex suggested weakly.

"Corrupted." Torres repeated the word as if she were tasting something unpleasant. "Mr. Chen, do you know what a polygraph machine measures?"

The sudden change of subject made Alex's heart skip. "Stress responses, I think. Heart rate, breathing, perspiration."

"Very good. And do you know why we don't use them on awakened individuals?"

Alex shook his head.

"Because awakened individuals have enhanced physical control. A C-rank or higher can regulate their heart rate, control their breathing, even manage their perspiration to a degree that renders traditional polygraphs useless." Torres leaned back in her chair. "However, there are other methods. Micro-expression analysis. Vocal stress patterns. And of course..."

She reached into her bag and produced a device Alex had never seen before—a sleek metal cylinder about the size of a smartphone, covered in softly glowing indicators.

"This is an Awakener Response Detector. It measures fluctuations in what we call 'awakener energy signature.' Even F-rank awakeners emit a detectable field when they're under stress or attempting deception. It's quite sensitive."

Alex stared at the device, feeling trapped. "Is that even legal?"

"Oh, absolutely. The Awakener Registration Act of 2026 explicitly authorizes the use of ARDs in national security investigations. You did agree to this voluntary consultation, after all."

Torres activated the device with a soft chime. Immediately, several of its indicators began to pulse with a soft blue light.

"Interesting," she murmured, studying the readouts. "Your baseline is... unusual for an F-rank. Let's start with some simple questions, shall we? State your name for the record."

"Alex Chen."

The device's lights remained steady blue.

"Age?"

"Twenty-four."

Still blue.

"Are you currently a registered F-rank awakener?"

"Yes."

Blue, but one of the indicators flickered slightly.

Torres noted something in her file. "On the day in question, did you enter the Hudson River Gateway dungeon with Iron Wolf Guild?"

"Yes."

"Did you witness the battle with the Tunnel Worm?"

Alex hesitated. "Yes."

The device's lights shifted from blue to yellow.

"Did you participate in the battle with the Tunnel Worm?"

The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Alex could hear his own heartbeat, could feel sweat gathering at his temples despite the room's aggressive air conditioning.

"I... I was there when it happened."

Yellow lights, with hints of orange beginning to appear.

"Mr. Chen, I'm going to ask you directly, and I want you to think very carefully before you answer." Torres leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. "Do you possess any awakener abilities beyond what would be expected of an F-rank individual?"

The question hung in the air like a loaded gun. Alex thought about Marcus's protective lies, about his family's safety, about the video footage on Hunt's tablet, about the Combat Data Archive interface that only he could see.

"I'm just an F-rank cameraman," he said finally.

The device erupted in orange and red lights, beeping insistently like a smoke alarm.

Torres studied the readouts with professional interest. "Fascinating. Either you're lying, or you genuinely believe something that's demonstrably false." She turned off the device and made several notes in her file. "Mr. Chen, let me be very clear about something. This country has protocols for dealing with awakened individuals who pose potential security risks. These protocols exist because history has shown us what happens when powerful abilities go unchecked and unmonitored."

She pulled out a photograph from her file—a city street reduced to rubble, emergency vehicles scattered like broken toys.

"Detroit, 2027. An unregistered A-rank awakener suffered what we call a 'psychotic break.' Forty-three people died before specialized containment teams could neutralize the threat." Torres put the photo away. "We have similar photos from incidents in Phoenix, Portland, and Tampa. Each one involved an awakener whose abilities were greater than their official registration indicated."

Alex stared at his hands, trying to keep them from shaking.

"I'm going to give you the same twenty-four hours that I'm sure others have offered you," Torres said, closing her file. "Use that time to think very carefully about whether you want to continue claiming that you're 'just an F-rank cameraman.' Because, Mr. Chen, if you are something more than that, it would be much better for everyone involved if you told us voluntarily."

She stood, smoothing her jacket with practiced efficiency.

"My card." She placed it on the table—plain white cardstock with just a name and phone number. "Call me when you're ready to have an honest conversation about what happened in that dungeon."

As Torres reached the door, she paused without turning around.

"Oh, and Mr. Chen? If you're thinking about running, or hiding, or disappearing into the underground awakener community—don't. We're very good at finding people who don't want to be found. And we're much less generous with uncooperative subjects than we are with voluntary consultants."

The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.

Alex sat alone in the interview room for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, staring at the card on the table. Finally, he picked it up and walked to the door, each step feeling like he was walking toward a cliff edge in the dark.

Outside the Federal Building, the afternoon sun felt like a blessing after the artificial lighting of the interview room. But as Alex began the long journey back to Brooklyn, he couldn't shake the feeling that Agent Torres's eyes were still watching him, waiting for him to make his choice.

Or waiting for him to run, so she could prove just how good the government was at finding people who didn't want to be found.