Chapter 801

Hannah Higgins had spent the past several days drifting through life in a daze.

Until the laboratory accident, she had a respectable job and a steady income. Now, she had lost a close friend and coworker, and the entire town seemed to have turned against her.

It didn’t matter whether someone had anything to do with the accident. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone had someone to blame.

And, somehow, that someone was her.

People called her a murderer. A monster. Some openly told her she should kill herself to pay for what she’d done.

The sheer change in her life was so drastic that Hannah sometimes wondered if she had fallen into an endless nightmare.

Then things started getting even stranger.

Whenever her emotions became too intense—when she was frightened, angry, or simply pushed too far—the objects around her would begin moving on their own.

Bottles flew off shelves.

Equipment crashed across rooms.

More than once, the phenomenon had caused serious accidents.

It didn’t take long for someone to notice.

Agents from a mysterious organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. eventually came looking for her.

Hannah had hoped that meant someone had finally arrived to help.

She had been very wrong.

The moment the agents found her, an unmanned car suddenly tore down the street and charged straight toward a crowd.

Before Hannah could even understand what was happening, something struck her hard in the back.

The world went black.

When she woke again, she was lying inside a cramped metal room illuminated by dim, artificial lights.

The walls, floor, and ceiling were made from some material she couldn’t identify. Everything was cold. Sterile. Lifeless.

For one terrifying moment, Hannah wondered if she’d died and gone to Hell.

Then the door opened.

She quickly discovered that Hell was considerably more organized than she had imagined.

She was still alive.

Unfortunately, she was also a prisoner of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The two agents who had come to question her were familiar in very different ways.

One was Phil Coulson, who had introduced himself when they’d first met.

The other was a stern Asian woman Hannah had never seen before.

They claimed they only wanted to understand what had happened.

Hannah wasn’t stupid.

It was an interrogation.

Every question carried the same underlying assumption: the strange phenomena surrounding her had something to do with her.

They believed she had somehow developed a superhuman ability during the laboratory accident.

They wanted to know how.

The problem was that Hannah had no idea.

What exactly was she supposed to tell them?

That God was punishing her?

That the strange things happening around her were simply another part of the punishment for whatever sins she had committed?

That was the only explanation she had.

She didn’t understand what was happening any more than anyone else did. If anything, she was the most confused person involved.

Apparently, that answer hadn’t satisfied the agents.

But they didn’t argue.

They simply left.

Hannah breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

The room was cold and oppressive, but at least nobody was screaming at her here. And if this really was some kind of S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, maybe their advanced technology could prevent her strange episodes from happening again.

She sat down on the only mattress in the room.

The pressure of the past few days had exhausted her.

Maybe, for once, she could get some sleep.

The door opened again.

Hannah immediately tensed.

A young man strode into the room carrying a chair.

He was tall and fairly handsome, and noticeably younger than the two agents who had questioned her earlier. He had even grown a beard, presumably in an attempt to make himself look more intimidating.

It didn’t quite work.

There was still something almost delicate about his features that the facial hair couldn’t hide.

He shut the door behind him, dragged the chair across the floor, and planted himself directly opposite her.

Then he stared.

He looked impatient.

Very impatient.

Hannah’s stomach dropped.

She knew this routine.

She’d seen enough police movies to recognize the classic good-cop, bad-cop setup.

Coulson and the other agent had been the opening act.

Her answers hadn’t satisfied them.

Now they’d sent in the person who was supposed to break her.

He’d threaten her. Intimidate her. Maybe use methods that wouldn’t exactly make it into an official interrogation manual.

And S.H.I.E.L.D. was a secret organization.

Who was going to stop them?

Hannah glanced toward the walls.

There probably wasn’t even a lawyer waiting somewhere outside.

She was just about to mentally prepare herself to demand one when the young man abruptly asked,

"Do you know any French people?"

Hannah froze.

...What?

That wasn’t what she had expected.

The first agents had at least asked questions related to her.

This guy had walked in and immediately asked whether she knew any French people.

What kind of interrogation tactic was that?

Her fear intensified.

Maybe he was the kind of psychopath who simply needed an excuse to beat someone.

And if that was the case, she had absolutely no idea what the correct answer was.

This guy looks way too calm.

Evenson noticed the panic spreading across Hannah’s face and realized he’d come on a little too strongly.

He took a breath and softened his tone.

"Hannah Higgins, you don’t need to be this nervous. We’ve thoroughly investigated your background, including your parents and relatives. None of them have any connection to anything suspicious, so you don’t need to worry."

He had intended that to be reassuring.

Hannah heard something completely different.

They investigated my family?

Her blood ran cold.

They’re threatening my family.

Was there no limit to what these people would do?

"So, I have a few questions for you," Evenson continued, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. In the dim room, however, it looked considerably more sinister. "If you answer honestly, this will all be over soon."

Hannah swallowed.

"The laboratory accident. And everything that’s happened since then. What do you know?"

Evenson leaned back slightly.

There was a reason he was asking.

If the laboratory really had contained the magic Mephisto was trying to recover, then everyone involved in the experiment was potentially suspicious.

Hannah, as one of the survivors, was even more suspicious.

But there was an obvious problem.

Someone had modified the particle collider itself, creating a specific slot for the mysterious cube.

That wasn’t something a quality-control employee could casually arrange.

Hannah—and the other low-level employees—were probably innocent.

That didn’t mean they knew nothing.

They might have seen something the people in charge had overlooked.

"I don’t know," Hannah said.

Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to continue.

"I don’t know anything about what happened or what’s happening now. If I had to explain it, I’d say it’s God’s will. God doesn’t forgive sinners. Maybe this is punishment for what I’ve done."

Evenson stared at her.

Hannah’s eyes remained fixed on him.

Please believe me.

And please don’t do anything horrifying.

Evenson leaned against the back of his chair.

"Hm."

Then he asked, "Do I look like someone who cares about God’s judgment?"

Hannah’s expression went blank.

"Never mind."

Evenson waved a hand.

It was obvious she was still too rattled to think clearly.

He reached into his belongings and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Want some?"

Apparently, water was supposed to help people calm down.

Hannah stared at the bottle as though he’d produced a grenade.

Then she shook her head violently.

"No. No."

Her golden hair whipped around with the motion.

Evenson blinked.

"Okay."

He put the bottle away.

Hannah stared at him in horror.

Waterboarding.

Of course.

Maybe the bottle was only the beginning.

Perhaps they’d tape something over her face and pour water over it.

Or maybe there was some kind of truth serum in it.

What kind of organization carried bottled water into an interrogation room?

Evenson, completely unaware of the mental catastrophe unfolding across from him, shrugged and pulled out a thick stack of documents.

He had barely opened the file when Hannah suddenly covered her chest with both hands and retreated toward the corner.

Evenson stopped.

He had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

He decided he didn’t particularly want to know.

He tossed the documents onto the table in front of her.

"We’ve thoroughly investigated the laboratory," he said. "Everyone involved, both living and dead. Unfortunately, that hasn’t answered one of my questions."

Hannah slowly lowered her hands.

Evenson continued.

"Do you know who actually funded your laboratory?"

Hannah relaxed by perhaps one percent.

At least this was a normal question.

She picked up one of the documents and flipped through it.

"It’s right there. James Victor. He’s a wealthy man who was interested in science."

"That’s the public story."

Evenson shook his head.

"Ms. Higgins, haven’t you ever wondered about it? You were conducting particle-collider experiments, and that laboratory had been operating for years. That’s far beyond what someone like Victor could realistically afford."

Hannah hesitated.

"I... I don’t know."

She looked down at the file.

"I’m just an employee. I’m not even part of management. How would I know something like that?"

"I understand."

Evenson nodded.

"But you were a fairly senior employee. You had enough clearance to enter the supervisor’s office. So think carefully."

He leaned forward.

"During conversations between the people running the laboratory, or perhaps in some documents, did you ever hear anything about the real person funding the project?"

Hannah frowned.

Evenson added, "For security reasons, they might not have used his actual name. They could have called him ’that man,’ ’the Boss,’ ’the leader,’ something like that. They might even have used the name of an object as a code name. A type of alcohol, for example."

As Evenson questioned her, everything taking place inside the interrogation room was being transmitted to the monitoring station outside.

Cameras in a detention room were hardly unusual.

Phil Coulson watched the screen carefully.

He was there because he knew Evenson.

More specifically, he knew that Evenson’s patience had a habit of disappearing when circumstances became irritating.

Coulson wasn’t opposed to using force. As a senior agent, he’d seen firsthand how effective it could be.

But force was supposed to be the last resort.

And he preferred making sure Evenson remembered that.

Grant Ward stood beside him, watching the interrogation with a puzzled expression.

"What is he asking her?" Ward said. "He doesn’t seem particularly interested in her powers."

"Does he need to be?"

Coulson smiled.

"Hannah is already in our custody and isolated. More importantly, Evenson is an Avenger. Don’t let his questions make you forget what he’s capable of."

Coulson nodded toward the screen.

"Even if Hannah’s abilities go out of control, he can neutralize her in seconds."

Ward considered that.

Coulson continued.

"That’s exactly why he’s approaching this differently. He’s not wasting time on something we already know. He’s trying to figure out where the ability came from."

"The accident."

"That’s our working theory."

Coulson’s expression hardened.

"But we don’t know whether the accident was actually an accident. We don’t even know whether the experiments themselves were exactly what they appeared to be."

Ward’s expression changed.

"Considering what we’ve seen lately..."

"Exactly."

Coulson folded his arms.

"We’ve gone from Killian’s Extremis to the Centipede organization. There are too many people suddenly interested in enhanced humans."

He looked back at the screen.

"So the question is whether Hannah’s powers were an accident..."

He glanced at Ward.

"...or whether someone used a particle-collider experiment as cover for an attempt to create a superhuman with telekinetic abilities."

Ward stared at him.

"You think that’s possible? Creating superhumans with a particle collider?"

"Who knows?"

Coulson shrugged.

"Look at the Hulk. Before Bruce Banner’s accident, who would’ve guessed gamma radiation could turn a man into an indestructible green giant?"

He paused.

"And there’s something else."

Coulson’s gaze sharpened.

"Do you really believe that explosion was caused by a particle collider malfunctioning?"

Ward’s brow furrowed.

"The damage was..."

"Exactly."

Coulson pointed toward the monitor.

"A functioning particle collider supposedly exploded, and all it did was punch a hole through the roof. The blast was weaker than some plastic explosives."

He looked at Ward.

"You’re the explosives expert. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?"

Ward’s expression slowly changed.

It did.

If a working particle collider had genuinely exploded, the damage should have been catastrophic.

Maybe it wouldn’t have leveled the entire town, but the office building housing the machine should have been destroyed.

Then there was another problem.

Why was a massive particle-collider experiment being conducted inside an office building in the middle of a densely populated town in the first place?

The deeper Ward thought about it, the stranger the entire situation became.

"So that’s why Evenson is asking these questions," Ward said.

"Exactly."

Coulson smiled.

"I’m glad to see that kid from New York finally developing the instincts of a senior agent."

He allowed himself a moment of pride.

Evenson had always been frighteningly intelligent when he wanted to be. His reasoning could sometimes be unnervingly rational.

But Coulson had been the one who brought him into S.H.I.E.L.D.

He was entitled to feel proud.

Besides, nobody was here to stop him.

Back inside the interrogation room, Hannah was struggling to remember.

After several long moments, she finally spoke.

"There was... something."

Evenson looked up.

"I think I heard my supervisor talking with Mr. Victor once. They mentioned someone."

She frowned.

"They called him Mr. Delaire."

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

"They seemed very respectful toward him. I remember Victor saying that Mr. Delaire was running out of patience. He wasn’t happy with the progress."

Hannah’s expression dimmed.

"Maybe that’s why everything became so rushed afterward."

She lowered her gaze.

"The people above us started pushing for faster results. They ignored some safety concerns. Sometimes they didn’t even respond when people complained."

Her voice grew quieter.

"And then the accident happened."

Evenson rubbed his temple.

That wasn’t an accident.

He suddenly smiled.

"Delaire."

He repeated the name slowly.

"Sounds French."

Hannah looked at him.

"And as it happens, I know there was a Delaire family in eighteenth-century France. They were apparently rather... obsessive about certain things."

He stopped there.

Evenson rose from his chair.

"Thank you, Ms. Higgins. This has been a very pleasant conversation."

He gave her a polite smile.

"And I sincerely appreciate your help. You should be out of here soon."

He turned toward the door.

Then stopped.

Evenson took out the bottle of water he’d offered earlier.

He unscrewed the cap, took a drink, and tossed it to Hannah.

"Drink it. There’s no truth serum in it."

Hannah caught the bottle automatically.

Evenson glanced at her cracked lips.

"Your mouth is practically splitting from dehydration."

He opened the door.

Before leaving, he looked up directly at the security camera and curled his lip.

"Some people like to call themselves good guys, but apparently locking someone up for hours without even giving her water is perfectly acceptable."

He scoffed.

"Unbelievable."

Outside the room, Coulson sat motionless in his chair.

He said nothing.

But there was one thing he knew for certain.

Being criticized by Evenson was one thing.

Being criticized by Evenson for something Coulson had actually done was another.

That, apparently, was intolerable.