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?"