Chapter 335: Return to the Facility
The portal flashed with a blinding intensity, and in the blink of an eye, the wooden architecture and damp air of the tavern vanished. In their place, the cold metal, polished concrete, and smell of ozone from the TMC facilities filled the room. Alexander took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and adrenaline at being back.
"Well, that was certainly fun. Follow me, girls," Alexander said, adjusting his clothes.
They were in the exact outpost hall he had arrived at initially. Before he could even take his first full step away from the transport frame, a deafening siren echoed through the steel walls and red emergency lights began spinning on the ceiling. Within seconds, dozens of heavily armed guards swarmed the room, training advanced laser rifles on them that looked thoroughly lethal.
Sydney, Paige, and the fake Brianna instinctively reached toward their hips where their weapons should have been, but found nothing. Alexander knew bringing unregistered personnel would cause misunderstandings, but he hadn’t anticipated such a rapid, aggressive response from security protocols.
A man clad in tight tactical armor identical to Alexander’s, but bearing command insignia, stepped through the ranks of soldiers. He was the base supervisor. He checked the holographic display on his wrist before looking up.
"Let’s see... Travel ID 55ABD8836. Team Leader Alexander, reporting back with three unauthorized individuals," the supervisor stated in a cold tone. "Raise your hands. You will be handcuffed for your safety until your status is officially determined. If you do not cooperate, there will not be a second chance."
Alexander felt the physical tension in the girls, ready to spring at the guards despite being unarmed.
"Calm down, girls. Raise your hands and cooperate," Alexander commanded in a calm, firm voice. "Don’t try anything, everything will be fine."
"Sensible choice, Team Leader," the supervisor commented, gesturing to his men.
Several guards moved in cautiously. They demanded their hands and placed gauntlet-like restraints that covered them from wrist to elbow. The moment the metal locked onto Alexander’s skin, he felt a sharp, tiny prick in his flesh, but he brushed it off, remaining composed as he waited to be escorted away.
Minutes later, the guards shoved Alexander into an isolated interrogation room. The reinforced metal walls and blinding white overhead lights created a suffocating atmosphere.
The interrogator in charge, a burly man with a harsh face, wasted no time. He stepped up to the table, slammed his fist onto the steel surface with a loud bang that echoed through the room, and leaned in close.
"Cut the crap, Alexander!" the interrogator yelled, the vein on his neck bulging. "I demand immediate explanations! You venture into a high-priority portal and come back with three unregistered intruders, no advance report, and level-three discrepancies in your mission log. What the hell were you thinking?!"
Alexander didn’t flinch at the outburst. He kept his back straight against the metal chair, responding with coldness.
"Calm down," Alexander said, his tone unwavering. "Those three women aren’t a threat. I successfully secured a legitimate slavery contract with the sector’s locals. They are under my absolute control and give us direct access to local infrastructure."
The interrogator narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but before he could interrupt, Alexander pressed on.
"Furthermore, the mission yielded higher returns than expected," Alexander added. "During my time on the other side, I awakened a skill."
On the way to the room, Alexander had pondered that point extensively. He didn’t want to be reckless by revealing his ability to copy techniques; that was his trump card, a tool far too dangerous and strategic to expose to TMC’s high command. Yet he didn’t want to show something minor like [Echo] or basic thermal vision either; that would leave him marked as a low-value asset, depriving him of the privileges, status, and resources he needed for his true plans. He had to present the perfect middle ground to demand leverage without giving away his real hand.
The interrogator leaned across the table with both hands, a mocking smirk playing on his lips as he glanced down at the gauntlet restraints locking Alexander’s arms.
"So you’re saying you awakened?" the interrogator scoffed, tilting his head. "In case you didn’t know, high-tier awakened individuals aren’t so easily subdued, nor do they politely let themselves be fitted with containment cuffs."
Alexander locked eyes with him, unblinking, and allowed a subtle, sideways grin to cross his face.
"Who said you subdued me?" Alexander replied. "I allowed you to put this shit on me because I didn’t feel like making a scene or turning your guards into mincemeat. Don’t flatter yourself."
The interrogator clenched his teeth, visibly irked by Alexander’s arrogance, and leaned further across the table.
"Let’s see if you’ve actually awakened," the interrogator said in a provocative tone. "Show me."
Alexander slowly extended his cuffed hands forward, locking a freezing gaze onto him without blinking.
"At this distance, there won’t be anything left of you but blood," Alexander said.
"Use it, I double-dare you," the man taunted, crossing his arms without budging an inch.
Alexander weighed his options in a split second. He knew he couldn’t reveal his actual arsenal, but he had to deliver a demonstration frightening enough to put an end to the man’s insolence. He focused a concentrated mass of raw energy into the palm of his hand.
Before the skill even fully manifested visually, the room lights flickered, and a high-threat alarm began blaring from the ceiling. The thermal and mana sensors embedded in the walls picked up the sheer density of the swelling power. Seeing the monitoring panels flash critical red, the interrogator’s composure shattered instantly; he leaped backward, putting several meters of distance between them and flattening his back against the exit door while his hand blindly scrambled for his sidearm.
Alexander dispersed the charge with a mocking smirk and lowered his arms.
"Well, I thought you weren’t a pussy, but I guess I was wrong," Alexander said, shaking his head. "What are you scared of? Didn’t you just say I wasn’t an awakened?"
The interrogator swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath and regain his stance under Alexander’s gaze. He adjusted his uniform with slightly trembling hands and pressed the console button to release the restraint locks.
"My apologies, Team Leader Alexander," the man said, lowering his voice as the mechanical latches on Alexander’s arms disengaged with a hiss of pressure. "You must understand that containment protocols are strictly enforced for everyone."
Alexander massaged his wrists, freed from the weight of the metal, as he stood up.
"However, I cannot make the final call regarding your status or that of your companions," the interrogator continued, stepping aside to open the door. "TMC’s primary evaluators are already on their way to examine your case."
"I’ll wait here. It’s not like I want to fight you guys anyway," Alexander said, leaning back into the metal chair with utmost nonchalance. "Where did you take the girls? If anything happens to them..."
The interrogator quickly raised his hands in a pacifying gesture, still catching his breath.
"Don’t worry, Squad Leader. With your identity verified, they will be treated with the utmost respect. I promise on my life."
"I’ll take your word for it... on your life," Alexander replied in an icy tone that made the air feel heavy. "If anything happens to them, don’t expect to walk away alive if I ever catch sight of you again."
"U-Understood," the man stammered before quickly retreating through the door and sealing it behind him.
Alexander leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. It seemed maintaining a tough, commanding front made things infinitely more convenient around these people—so if that was how it had to be, so be it.
Leaning back, he waited. Barely two minutes later, the door swung open and two individuals stepped inside. One wore a trench coat straight out of a mobster movie and held a lit cigarette between his fingers, while the other looked like a highly sharp, refined corporate executive. Seeing Alexander looking so relaxed—almost propping his feet on the table—both men narrowed their eyes in disapproval.
"The whole world dreams of awakening, and yet you’re taking it this easy, brat?" the man in the trench coat said, taking a long drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling. "You better learn some discipline. This is a TMC outpost and we’re not playing games here, understood?"
Alexander looked them up and down without flinching, letting out a bored sigh.
"Are you done playing around?" Alexander said. "Examine me and let me go. I don’t have time to waste with you two."
The corporate executive adjusted his glasses, fixing a cold glare onto him.
"Looks like you won’t cry until you’re fucked, right?" the executive said, turning to the side. "Butch, subdue him. I want to see what he’s capable of."
Seeing the suited man address the trench-coated figure as "Butch," assigning him the dirty work like a common brute, Alexander felt offended by the blatant disrespect.