Chapter 17
As we stepped through the doorway, a young officer in his late twenties approached us with purposeful strides. "Are you Vivian, Johan, and Astra?" he inquired, his voice taut with authority. We nodded, and I couldn't help but take in the crisp lines of his military attire, crowned with a sleek face cap. His very presence screamed "subordinate," leaving no doubt that he was not the one who had summoned us here. "You're here for us, I take it?" I queried, my tone as direct as the glare of fluorescent lights above.
A flicker of respect softened his neutral expression. "Yes, I'm here to guide you to him." With that, he pivoted on his heel and led us down a dimly lit corridor, flanked by walls adorned with sleek, high-tech equipment that hummed and pulsed like a living organism. The atmosphere crackled with tension, growing thicker with every step we took.
Reaching a solitary room at the corridor's end, the officer pushed open the door and gestured for us to enter. As we crossed the threshold, a shiver ran down my spine. The room was dominated by a commanding figure, his back turned to us, clad in a perfectly tailored grey suit that amplified his imposing stature. His dark, steady gaze seemed to pierce through the distance, while his hair—black mingled with white—was slicked back, further highlighting his chiseled features. Despite his age, likely somewhere between 50 and 65, he radiated an authority that held us all in thrall.
"Greetings, sir," the soldier intoned crisply, his voice sharp. Mr. Thompson turned to face us, his calm demeanor a contrast to the soldier's strict formality. Responding with a soothing softness, he dismissed the soldier, his focus now honing in on us, assessing our strengths with a narrowing gaze. A smile danced at the corners of his lips as he gestured toward chairs facing his desk.
The weight of his presence was palpable, and I could sense Vivian's unease growing by the second. Johan, however, maintained a composed exterior, his expression schooled into neutrality. Me? I stood resolute, my eyes locked onto him, searching for the truth hidden behind that calm facade.
"Vivian, Johan, and Astra," he called out, his voice low and deliberate, as if he had known us intimately long before this moment. As we took our seats, his gaze lingered over each of us, his fingers caressing a small flag on the table, the gesture almost reverential.
"I have been expecting you," he intoned, his voice like a chilling breeze sweeping through a winter's night, sending shivers down our spines. His eyes bored into us, seemingly unearthing every secret we harbored. The name 'Thompson' suddenly ignited memories from our country's past, recognition dawning like a slow sunrise—he was the legendary supreme commander of Japan's forces, a name that elicited whispers of awe and fear.
As he spoke, his gaze roamed over us like a hawk eyeing its prey. Vivian's eyes flitted nervously, her agitation a palpable presence, while Johan sat upright and formal, reminiscent of a soldier at attention. Meanwhile, I met his gaze with unwavering determination, intent on deciphering the intentions masked behind his placid exterior.
Tension thickened the air, pressing in on us as Director Thompson toyed with the flag, his fingers dancing with quiet precision—a stark reminder of the power he wielded. "I trust you have adapted well to your new… abilities," he said, his tone loaded with a sinister undertone, reminiscent of a snake oil salesman peddling a deadly elixir as a miracle cure.
In that cramped room, the walls felt as though they were closing in, ensnaring us in a web of intrigue and deception with Mr. Thompson effortlessly orchestrating the strings like a master puppeteer.
Mr. Thompson's eyes seemed to bore into our souls as he awaited our responses. Vivian's voice trembled slightly as she spoke, "He's strong." Her words in the air, a simple yet ominous assessment.
Johan's response was more measured, his voice firm and authoritative. "He is strong, confident, and more battle-ready and experienced." His words painted the soldier's picture of a formidable opponent, one who had honed his skills through countless battles.
Mr. Thompson's (Director) gaze shifted to me, his eyes expectant. I met his stare, my mind racing with thoughts. I knew he was looking for more, expecting more. The weight of his expectation settled on me, and I responded, my voice steady and assertive, "He's a force to be reckoned with, but we are not intimidated."
The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Mr. Thompson's expression was unreadable, but I sensed a glimmer of approval in his eyes. He nodded, his voice low and measured, "Good. I'm glad you all understand the gravity of the situation. The soldier you faced his Albeit. He is just the beginning. There is more at stake here than you can imagine."
Mr. Thompson's words hung in the air like a challenge, echoing off the walls of the dimly lit room. The silence was oppressive, a heavy blanket suffocating us. Vivian's eyes darted to Johan and then to me, her face pale. Johan's expression remained stoic, but I could sense the tension in his shoulders—a coiled spring waiting to unleash its energy.
I leaned forward, my voice firm. "What do you mean, sir? What's at stake?" My words broke the silence, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
Mr. Thompson's eyes sparkled with a hint of approval, accompanied by a small nod of his head. "I'm glad you're eager to know," he said, his voice dripping with an air of superiority. "You see, Albeit is just a pawn in a much larger game—a game that no one understands fully." He paused, glancing at each of us. "Perhaps it involves you three? No, maybe even everyone."
The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in on us as the weight of Mr. Thompson's words settled in. I felt a shiver run down my spine—a sense of foreboding creeping in. What did he want from us?
Johan's voice was firm. "Tell us more, Director Thompson. What do you want from us?" His words echoed my thoughts and pulled me back to the present, and I felt a surge of gratitude toward him.
Mr. Thompson's smile was enigmatic, thin, and calculating. "Ah, I'm telling you this because you were involved, but I'm getting ahead of myself," he said, his voice smooth as silk.
"First, let me ask you something." He leaned toward his desk and placed a flag at the edge of it. "Will you join our force?" he asked, his voice piercing and heavy.