He visibly trembled, eyes slowly focusing to stare at her. "I was there."
She leaned forward despite herself. "My God. What… what was it like?"
He was silent for such a long time that she thought he didn't hear her. But finally, the words grated from his mouth. "It was hell."
"You've been here for six months. Nearly in the safe zone."
"Safe zone?"
"According to the stats, most layovers commit suicide or get themselves killed within eight months. Something about the time gap, feelings of loss, not having a place in the world, and the loneliness, depression… it eats at a person. They usually end up quickly turning to increasingly dangerous crimes, or like I said — self-termination."
He met her eyes with a steady gaze. "I'm not a stat."
She smiled. "I think I can see that, Mr. Wolfe."
"Call me Jett."
"Okay, Jett. I'm curious. What was your profession before the Cataclysm?"
His response surprised her. "I was like you."
"You were RCE?"
"No, but I remember when rescue, combat, and enforcement units were all rolled into one cohesive organization. Nathan Ryder was behind that. He was behind a lot of things. I wasn't RCE, though. I was ACU."
Her eyebrows rose. "You fought Imperials? Wow."
"Yeah, I was in an Aberrant Control Unit. Tactical team deployed to combat metahuman threats. You know about the Imperial War?"
"Bits and pieces."
"Well, humanity won. But in doing so, we broke the planet. There was mass chaos in those days. The ACU went from a military institute to a peacekeeping organization. We were law and order. The last line against total anarchy."
"What was your rank?"
"I was a major."
She was impressed, despite herself. She didn't know what she expected when Jett turned himself in, but she sure didn't expect a relic from the Imperial War. She couldn't help but feel a strange kinship to the man. He wasn't so different from her. Fighting a war where victory was impossible. She knew exactly how that felt.
Isaac shifted from his position in the corner. She knew he was studying her. The interrogation was nothing like they had originally planned. She mentally refocused. Remember what you brought him in for.
"Okay, Jett. I appreciate you coming in voluntarily. But I need you to continue to be honest with me. Can you do that?"
"Sure."
"Let's start with where you were at two-fifteen a.m. this morning."
He narrowed his eyes. "You know exactly where I was. I'm sure my holoband showed up when you ran the crime scene."
"You were there in the alley. What happened?"
He leaned back, folding his arms. "A girl was chased into the alley by a gang of thugs. I tried to intervene."
"By yourself?"
He shifted his shoulders, lowering his gaze. "I had been… drinking. Wasn't thinking straight."
"I guess not. Though if 'not thinking straight' means trying to defend helpless citizens against possible rape and murder, I hope everyone in this city starts drinking what you had."
A stiff smile curved his lips. "I got my ass handed to me."
"Yeah, I can see that. What happened then?"
"One guy pulled out some strange weapon. It… morphed from his holoband. The shot missed but took down the building. I was lucky to get away alive."
"Yeah, biogun. Not the thing a normal thug would carry."
"Biogun?"
"Polymorphic liquid alloy firearm. Basically, it's a handgun powered by the body's energy. Fires thermal rounds capable of… well, you saw what they're capable of."
"Yeah."
"What about the old man?"
He stiffened. "What old man?"
"We found a Mr. Wayne Thomas dead at the scene. Former Agent. Retired from the RCE thirty years ago. Lived a respectable life running a small business and contributing to his community."
Jett shook his head. "I didn't know him."
"Did you see him? We couldn't find any serious wounds other than injuries from the falling building. Coroner says the cause of death was heart failure. But he was far away from his home in Manhaven. Do you have any idea why he would be at a busted-up alleyway in the Warrens?"
He raised his head, looking her in the eyes. "I wish I could help you out, Detective. But the truth is, I never met the man before and have no idea what he was doing there."
Ronnie glanced at Isaac, who shook his head. She turned back to Jett.
"Alright, I think we have everything we need. You're free to go."
Surprise flashed across his face before he suppressed it. "Okay."
"Anything comes up, any follow up questions… we expect you to cooperate."
"I understand."
She watched as he slipped a shabby jacket on and walked to the door.
"Hey, Jett."
He turned around.
"There's help if you need it. Free counseling available to ease layovers into society. You don't have to feel alone."
He silently studied her for a moment. "Do you feel alone, Agent Banks?"
"I…" She hesitated, caught off guard by the question.
A sad, broken smiled crossed his face. Tipping his fingers, he walked out of the room.
She turned to Isaac. "Well?"
"My link to the chair pad secured the proper readings. Pulse, body movement, temperature. And of course, I scanned his face and eyes for accurate evaluation."
"And?"
"He was mostly telling the truth."
"Mostly?"
"That last part. About not knowing what Mr. Thomas was doing in the alley. That was the only detectable lie."
"So… he wasn't lying about trying to save some girl from being attacked?"
"If he was, it wasn't detectable by any of my sensors. I don't think he's that good."
"Yeah, me either." She ran her fingers through her tight, curly hair. "Think it's worth it to chase this any further?"
"Seems an open and shut case. Mr. Thomas died of heart failure, so no homicide investigation. No other deaths except gang members. Their injuries appear to be the result of the building falling on them, save for a few unexplainable broken bones and a stab wound. I think we can chart that up to Mr. Wolfe's rescue attempt."
"He'd have to be a one-man wrecking machine."
"He is ex-military. I ran the data on the unit he described. The ACU units were quite formidable in their day."
"Something still doesn't add up. Hell. It's a dead end. We have a stack of cases more pressing than this one."
"Want to put Mr. Wolfe on our watch list? Keep an electronic eye on him?"
She considered for a moment. "No. I think he's been through enough."
"Surprise, surprise. Veronica Banks having an empathetic moment. This guy must really impress you."
"Don't call me Veronica." She spoke absently, mind working things over. "Something about him. Can't put my finger on it. He's… different."
"He's vintage, for one."
"Yeah, can you imagine sleeping for over three hundred years? The disorientation of waking up to another world, another time… it's a wonder he can even function."
"Not something one could recover swiftly from."
"Yeah." She stared at the door, frowning. "Okay, we're done for now. Unless we can trace the biogun that did the damage, there's not much to go on."
"And what about Vigil?"
She gave him an amused glance. "What?"
"Vigil. Short for vigilante, according to old reports. The name was given to a masked, unidentified, self-proclaimed guardian of the city. Declared a wanted outlaw by authorities, and a scourge by the criminal underworld."
"The last sighting was twenty years ago, Isaac. I was just a kid back then. Besides… most of that talk is exaggerated. Some kook in a suit made a name for himself beating up low-key thugs. Probably was killed or got hurt enough to quit that nonsense."
"So you don't believe—"
"Those idiot toughs? No chance. They're snorting bloom out there. No use taking anything they say seriously. Give it a rest, Isaac. Vigil is just an urban legend. He doesn't exist."