Chapter 632

Please, you’re weak.

That was the message Moira had been trying to get across with everything she’d done since entering the interrogation room.

As one of the senior officers placed in charge of the Black Badge Division, Moira took her work seriously. Perhaps too seriously.

She was fascinated by the physical structure of abnormal humans and had more than a little interest in studying and dissecting them. But anatomy wasn’t the only thing that interested her. She’d also spent considerable time analyzing their psychology.

In her experience, abnormal humans tended to fall into three broad categories.

The first were the extreme narcissists. They believed their abilities proved they were chosen by fate, that they were fundamentally different from ordinary people, and that the universe ought to revolve around them. In short, they thought they were the main character.

The second group went in the opposite direction.

They were consumed by inferiority. Their abilities isolated them from everyone around them, and their inability to control those powers sometimes resulted in innocent people getting hurt. They carried the loneliness and misery of their condition like a hereditary curse.

Then there was the third group.

Human beings weren’t divided neatly into black and white, after all. Most people lived somewhere in the gray, and abnormal humans were no different.

The third type combined insecurity with confidence.

They might normally keep their distance from ordinary people and come across as timid or withdrawn. But the moment something involving their abilities or personal experience came up, that insecurity vanished. Suddenly, they were convinced they were the only person capable of handling the situation.

Moira believed Jessica Jones belonged to that third category.

Under ordinary circumstances, Jessica cooperated reasonably well with the police. As long as she wasn’t being charged with a crime, she’d answer their questions, even if she did so with an attitude that could strip paint.

But mention superpowers?

That cooperation disappeared.

Jessica immediately became evasive.

Her reasoning was simple enough. Ordinary people had no business getting involved in abnormal incidents. Police officers couldn’t handle threats like these, so keeping them out of it was supposedly for their own protection.

Which was why Moira had decided to demonstrate three things.

First, she wasn’t a police officer.

Second, she wasn’t an ordinary human.

And third, she was considerably stronger than Jessica.

Jessica now understood the message perfectly.

She stopped struggling.

Then she lightly slapped the table three times.

In many combat sports, that gesture meant surrender.

For the moment, Jessica was willing to back down.

"Good."

Moira slowly eased the table away.

Jessica immediately sucked in a deep breath. She dragged the chair Moira had restored back into place, dropped into it, and took a moment to recover.

Her first words were surprisingly practical.

"That table’s built pretty damn well. The two of us were pushing against it hard enough to break something, and it didn’t even crack."

"Police equipment. They tend to make it sturdy."

Moira adjusted her beret and glanced at Jessica.

"Now that we’ve formally introduced ourselves, are you willing to tell us what you know about Kilgrave?"

"I’ll admit you’re strong. At least physically, you’re stronger than me."

Jessica had conceded Moira’s strength.

She hadn’t conceded anything else.

"But what good is that strength against him? If anything, being stronger makes you more dangerous if he gets control of you."

Jessica knew exactly what she was talking about.

She’d experienced Kilgrave’s abilities firsthand.

The man could turn your enemies into your protectors and your friends into your executioners. With him, the old saying about hurting your own team wasn’t a metaphor.

Moira’s strength impressed Jessica.

It also terrified her.

If they confronted Kilgrave, Moira would almost certainly become one of his first targets. And if he controlled her, what then?

Against an ordinary person, Jessica could knock them unconscious before they did anything stupid.

But Moira wasn’t ordinary.

If Kilgrave turned her against them, the question of who knocked whom unconscious might be reversed very quickly.

"You don’t need to worry about that."

Moira adjusted her beret.

She hated the damn thing. It looked cool enough, but it was uncomfortable as hell. If headquarters hadn’t required her to wear it, she wouldn’t have touched the ridiculous hat.

"We’ll adjust our tactics according to the opponent. We’ll keep adapting until we find the approach most suited to the situation."

Her gaze sharpened.

"And the most important factor in determining that approach is the information you give us."

She leaned forward slightly.

"So if I were you, I’d tell us everything you know. Then we can figure out exactly how to cut this particular tumor out."

Jessica was silent for a long time.

Eventually, she sighed.

"All right."

Moira hadn’t rushed in blindly.

She wasn’t one of those idiots who heard about a dangerous enemy and immediately charged headfirst into a fight.

She also hadn’t been frightened by Kilgrave’s abilities.

She hadn’t dismissed the possibility of mind control, either.

Moira had remained calm from beginning to end, focusing on the most practical way to deal with the problem.

Maybe working with them actually had a chance of succeeding.

And Jessica was more than ready to see that bastard pay.

So she finally told them everything.

She explained Kilgrave’s obsession with her, how he’d controlled her for an extended period and treated her like a slave. She told them about the terrible things she’d done while under his control.

She didn’t hold anything back.

And Jessica’s blunt personality meant some of the details were delivered with considerably less restraint than most people would have managed.

Moira quietly committed every detail to memory.

"Good."

She folded her hands.

"I have a few more questions."

"What?"

"During the time you were with him, what did he call an elevator?"

Jessica blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me. Just answer the question."

Jessica frowned, trying to understand where Moira was going with this.

"Fine."

She thought for a moment, then told Moira what Kilgrave normally called an elevator.

Moira nodded.

"And what did he call the little metal thing at the end of a shoelace?"

Jessica stared at her.

"Uh... a metal aglet?"

She sounded uncertain.

"Aglet."

Moira considered that for a moment.

The questions sounded trivial.

They weren’t.

British and American English used different terms for an elevator, and the particular vocabulary surrounding shoelaces could reveal where someone had grown up.

Those tiny details confirmed something important.

Kilgrave really was English.

His nationality wasn’t some false identity implanted into Jessica’s mind.

Moira continued.

"How long does his mind control normally last?"

"If he doesn’t deliberately release someone, about a day."

"Does he need to be within a certain distance?"

"He usually controls people face-to-face. The maximum range can’t be more than a room or so."

Jessica shrugged.

"At the very least, they have to be close enough to clearly hear him."

"He controls people through his voice. What about phones? Radios? If his voice reaches someone through a device, does the ability still work?"

"Of course not."

Jessica spread her hands.

"If it did, I’d have been under his control again a long time ago."

Moira’s questions were finished.

McKenna shifted closer and quietly spoke into her ear.

"Sounds like his ability isn’t all that powerful. Taking him down shouldn’t be too hard."

"Agreed."

Moira nodded.

The requirement for direct, face-to-face contact was a major limitation.

For someone like Moira, who had spent considerable time dealing with the Eredar Twins, Kilgrave’s ability wasn’t particularly impressive.

She was completely confident that she could resist him through sheer willpower alone.

McKenna glanced at Jessica, then back at Moira.

"Want me to call in the soldiers?"

She paused.

"Putting one of them against someone like this would certainly make things easier."

"That’s not a bad idea."

Moira’s eyes suddenly brightened.

"Jeffrey Mason was only recently adjusted. He hasn’t had a chance to undergo any real combat testing."

She smiled.

"This sounds like the perfect opportunity."

She waved toward the door.

"Go make the call."