The uproar continued, with civilians running everywhere. Derick stood frozen, phone pressed to his ear; he couldn't speak after hearing those words from Jean. Still, he forced himself to play along and said, 'Yes."
Jean ended the call; Derick had no expression on his face. He kept his phone in his pocket, standing frozen, and then suddenly he dropped to his knees. His head was hurting. A throbbing pain pressed against his skull, drowning out every thought. The words of Jean were echoing in his head; they were like sharp knives piercing and stabbing his skull, trying to force the command.
Derick was resilient; he didn't give in. Blood dripped from his nostrils; the pain was starting to go, but he was still bowed to the ground. The racing footsteps of Raymond arrived; he was breathing heavily. He was surprised to see Derick on his knees, bleeding from his nostrils.
"Derick, is everything alright? What's wrong?" Raymond asked.
Derick said no words and just bowed his head to the ground. Raymond was about to move close to his ally, then Derick raised his hand, gesturing to stop and yelling:
"Stay back; don't come any closer. I could kill you."
Raymond's eyebrows burrowed; he was perplexed, but even so, he still felt he should go help Derick. Derick, still adamant, shouted:
"I said stay back. Do you want to die?"
Raymond snapped back at him. "Shut up, you're the one who's going to die. You're bleeding from your nose."
Derick now calm. "I'm fine. I don't know, but my body has always been special. This is its way of resisting the control."
Derick got to his feet and cleaned the blood from his nose. Raymond got closer and asked.
"What control?"
Derick answered. "The control of the superhuman, and I know who it is."
The ponytailed man looked perplexed, but a grin slowly spread across his face.
"Alright then, let's go meet the others."
They made their way to go join their other allies.
[Narrator]:
Alright, there's progress. Let Derick cook; you better put your stocks on him, he's going to go sky-high.
****
Two hours passed. The once-roaring streets of Ultra City now carried only the faint hum of patrol drones and guards coordinating families back to their homes. In the heart of it all, the Hero Building stood like a beacon. Derick and Raymond stepped inside, the air heavy with unspoken questions.
Inside the building, officials were busy as a bee. They were back in work mode, focused on finding solutions and identifying anyone suspicious at the burial. Derick and Raymond focused on getting to the top floor, which they did.
Sitting in the room were Commander Layla, Johnathan, Timothy, and Larry. They all carried worry on their faces. Both guys walked in with confidence; through the disaster, they had cracked a clue.
Derick had this serious look on him; his eyes were sharp, and his brows were arrowed. Larry saw him; he wanted to laugh but held it in.
Layla was stressed; she shook her head tirelessly. "I don't know what is going on in this city; it's like we've been playing in their palms all along. She turned to Raymond. Any luck from your side?"
Raymond sighed, "We got something interesting; could you say it, please, Derick?"
The tall, dark-skinned fellow cleared his throat and then spoke. "I know who the mind-control superhuman is."
Silence filled the room; they were all dumbfounded, their eyes showing shock, with no words spoken at first. Who could expect words? What had just been heard was too good to be true.
Johnathan hit the table harshly, saying. "This isn't a joke, right?"
Derick replied. "Why will I joke about this? We aren't in a time for jokes. I know who she is; now I finally accept that Leonard was not the real perpetrator—he was manipulated by her."
A frown formed on Layla's face, and she shouted:
Who is she, and why are you speaking now about her?
Derick replied back before Layla could say more. "Don't see me as an accomplice, ma'am; I just figured it out today."
Everyone leaned in, listening closely.
"We've been in contact for a while now, and I used to think that she could be like those types of girls, those dominant ladies. I thought it was a good thing until today. She asked me, no, commanded me to kill."
"What?" Larry exclaimed.
Derick continued, "A normal person might think that was just a fun thing, but the way she said it had this diabolism in it; it felt too commanding. I just played along, but not long after my head began to hurt, but like I told Raymond, my body's special; I have resistance to this sort of thing. It was painful, but I fought through it."
Johnathan asked. "What's her name?"
He replied shortly. "Jean Bassett."
Johnathan went through his tablet, then found information about her. It showed it as photographic imagery. Jean's details appeared. It read:
Jean Bassett, twenty-four years old, school teacher.
They all saw it and sighed a breath of relief; it wasn't just a breath of relief but a sigh that they had a breakthrough at last.
Larry asked quite the question.
"Do you know where she lives?"
Derick felt puzzled by the question; he looked left and right, and each of them had eyes saying, "Do you know the answer?" Derick replied in his Derick manner. "How do you expect me to know that? You can't expect me to be stalking her. Who do you think I am? I'm not Joe Goldberg.
[Narrator]:
Hey, 🙃 I saw what you did there; I saw it.
Larry rolled his eyes and uttered a statement that disturbed Derick.
"Ugh, useless."
It pissed off Derick, but as a man who doesn't escalate such issues, he just bantered back. "Useless. Even with your fancy gizmo, you couldn't find her or give us a clue."
An argument brewed, both men fired; it was friendly, but it caused noises. Raymond once again had to settle their word exchanges.
The room had peace; throughout it all, Timothy didn't speak at all. He kept mute, head bowed down; his eyes were losing the bright light.
Layla called to him. "Timothy, do you have anything to do or anything to say?
He was lost in his thoughts until she shouted his name before he realized the commander was speaking to him.
Timothy's voice is in a low and calm tone. "Sorry, Layla," he pleaded. "I don't actually know what to do. I don't have anything to say. They already got something, so it's pointless if I speak."
The entire room felt for Timothy. No one had ever seen him this down before; surprisingly enough, he doesn't do anything to plan ahead against the rebels of the city. Layla gave a small smile; she picked up her phone and said.
"Send them upstairs."
Some moments later, whoever Layla had called to report where they are. The elevator doors slid open; who came from it were two old individuals. They did not know who they were, but one knew them.
Timothy rose to his feet, bitterness carved into his expression as he spoke. "Mr. and Mrs. Edgar, what are you doing here?