056 FILLING THE PUZZLE
Damen held his phone tightly, debating whether to power it on. If he did, his mining app would appear right there on the front screen… it was impossible to hide it.
Before he could decide, Dorin snatched it from his hand.
"No…"
"Relax," she said, flashing that teasing smile. "We're not checking whatever smut you've got in there."
"There's no smut," he said flatly.
Lander didn't comment.
He simply opened a metallic case on the table — a portable container-like machine — and placed the phone inside. The lid sealed with a hiss, and the hum of scanners filled the air.
"What the hell are you doing to my phone?" Damen demanded.
"If we break it, we'll pay you back," Dorin said casually.
Damen's jaw tightened.
"Pay me back? How can you pay me back if you break my phone? The mining app's inside."
A soft beep echoed.
The light on the device shifted between amber and green. Lander leaned closer, watching. It was a portable psychic-wave detector — a crude and simple detector but functional. It was nowhere near the sophistication of the Fortress Myrone system but effective, nonetheless.
Damen hid a smirk. "They'll detect nothing. With this baby machine."
Lander frowned as he opened the box and lifted the phone by its edge, dangling it like evidence. His brows drew together.
"This doesn't make sense…" he muttered.
Damen snatched it back quickly. "Lucky you didn't remove the case," he thought silently — the phone cover was made of a special material designed to block psychic emissions.
"Wait, I'm not done—" Lander began.
"You're done," Damen snapped. "You almost fried my phone in your bloody microwave!"
Lander hesitated, still puzzled.
"What is it, Detective?" Dorin asked.
"I'm sure the psychic readings we tracked came from him or during the use of his phone," he said, glaring at Damen.
To prove a point, Damen tapped his phone. Dorin's phone started ringing in her pocket.
Lander's eyes narrowed. He pulled out another handheld scanner, and swept it around. The readings were clear. There was no psychic trace in the room.
"Now what?" Damen asked, his tone dripping with irritation. "You people are crazy."
"No, we're not insane," Dorin replied, her tone firm now. "We suspect you're connected to the serial psychic attacks in the city."
Damen blinked. "What serial case? I didn't see the news," he asked, feigning confusion.
Lander leaned in, with his sharp eyes. "Don't you find it odd that so many people near you collapsed into psychic shock? Your classmates — Thames and Onda. Your uncle Ralph. The boy band Sneaker and their bodyguards. The MMA fighters…"
The names hung in the air like ghosts. Damen stayed silent, his mind running faster than any scanner could read.
"They deserve it", Damen replied flatly and unapologetically.
Dorin and Lander stared at him.
"Wait …. my classmates got hysterical, and my uncle had a heart attack. But Sneaker and the MMA fighters? What the hell happened to them, and what does that have to do with me?" Damen asked.
"He's right, Lander," Dorin said, stepping between them. "You're stretching the hunch. He wasn't at the Black Owl when the boy band was hit, and he wasn't at the stadium when the fighters went down."
"And what have all these conspiracy theories got to do with my phone?" Damen insisted.
Lander tapped his datapad, eyes hard. "I checked the timestamps on the attacks and cross-referenced camera footage of you. Even when you weren't physically with the victims, your hands were always on your phone."
"Hell, you could link even that to me? Who the hell are not always with their phones nowadays… You people are bent on making me guilty", Damen thought. In his mind there was only one thought- he couldn't look guilty.
Damen barked a laugh. "So, your logic is: millions of people use phones every day, and millions die. By that standard, everyone's guilty of murder."
Lander didn't have an answer.
They'd already run his phone through the detector; the last threads of their suspicion had been cut. They have nothing on Damen.
"You're barking up the wrong tree, Lander," Dorin conceded, softer now.
Damen's patience thinned. "Okay, then — if I'm cleared of the murder charges, I'm getting out. I just came through a space rift, and I'm exhausted."
"We can't leave," Lander said. "We're using your apartment for this mission."
"Fine. I'll find somewhere else to crash." He moved for the door.
Dorin put a hand on his sleeve, stopping him. "Wait. Maybe you can help us."
He halted. "What?"
"There are missing students in school," she said quickly before adding politely, "We can't ask around as SIA agents— it would tip people off and worse cause a panic. We need someone who's a student, who can move without drawing attention. Will you help?"
"Nah. Not interested," Damen said.
"There's a bounty," Lander added.
"I'm rich," Damen replied, reflexively.
Lander's tone sharpened. "You're not. Your foster family mistreated you. I didn't dig deep, but someone's underwriting your gym fees and your lifestyle. Do you want me to expose you?"
The question sank into the room. Damen's face tightened. He could not say he'd taken money from the gangsters he'd killed, could he?
He swallowed hard.
On impulse, Damen pulled out a small token and flipped it across the light. "This is Lord Nicaesa's token with access to all services and resources in Fortress Myrone. Do what you will with it. I can't tell you more… it's classified and beyond your pay grade."
Dorin caught it effortlessly, inspecting the token before handing it back. "It's legit. A real token from Fortress Myrone. Only top agents ever get their hands on these," she said.
Lander and Dorin exchanged a look—one of those wordless moments that always made Damen feel like a part of him was being dissected. He could feel the suspicion in the air, tightening like a noose.
They'd always been puzzled by him. The profile didn't match—Damen, who'd been poor and desperate his entire life, suddenly had money, skills, and connections that didn't make sense.
And now the myth was falling into place.
Damen had a secret benefactor.
Someone inside Fortress Myrone, someone probably tied to his deceased superhero parents, was pulling strings—funding him, training him in meta skills. The pieces clicked, the puzzle was complete.
"It makes sense now," Dorin said, her voice edged with realization.
Lander pulled Dorin aside, lowering their voices as they spoke without Damen.
"It seems the boy isn't connected to the psychic attacks directly, he's not culpable," Dorin whispered, her gaze never leaving Damen.
Lander didn't answer immediately.
He just stared at Damen, his thoughts clearly working over time. Then, his voice lowered to a near whisper, "Whatever caused those attacks... it's highly likely to be connected to him. We need to keep him close, watch him. He could lead us to the source."
Dorin nodded, her mind already calculating. "I'll keep him under surveillance, 24/7. Track his every move."
Lander shook his head, his expression hardening. "If you do that, you'll scare him off. The real culprit will stay hidden, and we'll waste our time. It's not the right approach."
Damen could feel them talking about him, their words seeping into his awareness like poison. The longer he stayed with them, the higher the risk of his secrets slipping out. Every second in their presence was another moment that could expose him.
"So, anything else?" Damen said, trying to keep his tone light, masking the tension in his chest. "Can I go now?"
Every second felt like a countdown.
Damen's mind was racing now. "How do I get out of here without them suspecting more?"
057 ABOUT GOSSIPS AND PROMS
"Do you want to intern at the SIA?" Lander asked suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.
He leaned back in his chair, not waiting for an answer. "Perks include full membership at Heroes' Gym. It's the only public meta gym in town, by the way."
"I can pay for the membership," Damen replied with a cool indifference.
Lander's lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "Money alone wouldn't get you in. If not for Dorin, you'd never set foot in the gym. She's been letting you use it, bending the usual rules."
Damen had long suspected there was more to his access to Heroes' Gym than just luck. Even the staff had sometimes looked at him oddly, as if he were a special case.
Now, it was all starting to make sense.
"Why did you allow me into your gym in the first place, then, if it's so exclusive?" he asked, turning to Dorin.
Dorin didn't hesitate, her gaze unwavering. "Because I saw you in the main hall, with your parents' superhero medals. I made an exception out of respect for their legacy. You earned that much, at least."
Damen was struck by the simplicity and honesty of her answer.
It was Dorin, from the very start, who had made the exception…. long before they suspected him of anything. She had seen something in him, something worth nurturing, and that chance had allowed him to train when no one else would've given him the time of day.
He took a moment to consider Lander's offer.
The gym—with full access, and unlimited hours.
Training was crucial to Damen, especially now. He'd been avoiding it lately to keep a low profile, but with the suspicion out in the open, maybe it was time to face it head-on.
Besides, working with the SIA would open doors, give him insights into law enforcement—knowledge that could come in handy if he ever crossed the line himself.
"All right," Damen said after a long pause, locking eyes with Lander. "Full access. Unlimited hours."
Dorin smiled, a hint of approval in her expression as she extended her hand. "Agreed."
He shook it, feeling the weight of the bargain settle.
Lander's tone turned blunt once Damen accepted the offer.
"You may be part of the SIA now," he said, "but I still haven't figured out the psychic attacks. I'm still convinced they're connected to you somehow."
Damen studied him for a moment. "Should I ignore him… or just tell him something believable?"
He exhaled slowly. "Fine. Lord Nicaesa told me once that my mother—Violet—was a powerful psychic. He said she probably placed a charm on me when I was little. If I'm ever in danger, it triggers automatically to protect me…. It's possible the psychic reading you've been getting around me came from there… but I never meant to hurt anybody."
Lander mulled over the idea. "That… could make sense. So, you're saying the psychic bursts we've traced might be the charm activating? Like when those students tried to bully you—or when your uncle collapsed?"
"That could be it…although it's definitely not my fault," Damen said with a shrug.
Then he added, "But my mother was a Superhero, not some dark villain. She wouldn't give me something evil. And she's gone now. You can't hold her choices against me."
Lander pressed on. "What about the victims in Black Owl Club and the MMA stadium?"
"I wasn't anywhere near either place," Damen replied calmly. "Maybe you've been connecting two unrelated cases."
"Maybe," Lander said, though his eyes stayed sharp before adding, "you do have no motive attacking those people."
Damen smiled faintly and folded his arms, crossing his fingers behind his back.
"Hopefully, that's the last time they bring up the psychic attacks," he thought.
------
Dorin reset the briefing for Damen's benefit. "About a month ago we started getting reports — students from Meta High No. 2 have been disappearing. No notes, no calls, nothing. They just vanish."
Damen scanned the dossiers spread across the table and shook his head. "These aren't runaway types. They're well off students. If anything, they'd be running back home for allowance money, not away from it."
"That leaves two options," Lander said.
"Accident or foul play," Damen finished.
Lander's jaw tightened. "Exactly. But the disappearances are scattered across time and place. Accidents don't add up. It's either coordinated abduction or murder."
"So, we need to know who's taking them — and why," Dorin said.
"Where do we start?" Damen asked.
"Ask around — without tipping anyone off," Dorin answered.
Damen snorted. "No. That's how you spook the suspects. If one of the students is involved, everyone'll clam up and bolt. It would become harder to investigate."
Lander looked at him. "Then what do you suggest?"
Damen folded his arms and offered a slow smile. "There's a place where kids trade secrets for bragging rights."
Dorin leaned forward. "Name it."
"The Black Owl."
-----
"Hey, buddy! Didn't think you'd actually come out for a real R&R. Been ages," Zairgid said, slapping Damen a high five.
"The school's facilities are subpar," Damen replied dryly. "Training there's a waste of time. Might as well get some fresh air."
Their car rolled to a stop in front of Black Owl, the city's most exclusive night club. Neon lights crawled along the walls like living veins. The bouncers at the door didn't even glance twice — they knew Zairgid.
"Mr. Aukuoma," the club manager greeted, bowing slightly. "Your suite is ready."
"Good," Zairgid said. "A few friends from Meta High No. 2 are coming. Make sure your men don't hassle them."
Inside, the suite opened into a sleek private lounge — crystal lights, soft beats, and too many familiar faces around.
Zairgid's welcome-back party was in full swing.
Students from rich families clustered in groups, drinks in hand, voices rising in the din. A few gatecrashers had slipped in, but Zairgid didn't care. He had money to burn. Treating a few freeloaders was nothing to him.
Damen, however, kept to himself.
He wasn't one for small talk. He took a seat in the corner with a drink and a plate of delicate cakes, letting the sugar dull his boredom while his ears worked overtime.
"Useless chatter," he thought as the gossip in the room rolled by.
"Did you hear XYZ is dating ABC?"
"Hey, you copied my dress! We should've coordinated first before coming."
"Whose hovercar is that outside? Must've costed a fortune!"
It was all noise — until one stray sentence cut through.
"You know, some students without any background suddenly got insanely strong."
Damen's attention sharpened. He leaned slightly forward.
"Yeah, I heard that. Their meta rating skyrocketed faster than ours, even without using the amplification theater."
"Maybe they're prodigies — like that monster, Damen Dark."
Damen was amused. The speaker didn't even realize he was there.
"How many 'monsters' can one school have? What are the odds?"
"Then what's their secret?"
"If we knew, it wouldn't be a secret."
The conversation shifted again, dissolving back into vanity.
"Forget it. Who do you think wll win king and queen at prom?"
"Not Damen Dark — he's handsome, but with no background, there's no chance at a real partner."
That last one stung more than he expected. Damen downed his drink, stood up without a word, and walked out.
Behind him, the music thumped on, as the laughter echoed — shallow, distant, and meaningless.
Suddenly, someone shouted from his back.
"Damen…, I didn't think you would come to a place like this."
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