Liam Mason felt for his pack of cigarettes. Smoking on the premises was not something he intended to do. But God, he needed one after that shit show of an interrogation.

He walked through the wide concrete corridor. On either side, a mixture of agents from the Special Paramilitary Division (SPD), HAVEN’s combat department, and knights from the Arixxer order, stood guard, as was customary of their tumultuous collaboration these days.

Past a heavily fortified security checkpoint and a few nondescript doors, Mason arrived at his destination, the observation room adjacent to the interrogation room.

Grand Master Persia Gemellianus almost ran into him in the doorway.

“Stand aside, agent,” she said. “I will speak with the man.”

Mason made himself as large as possible. “You will do no such thing. I can’t have you fucking up an already fucked situation.”

This did the trick, shifting the Grand Master’s attention to Mason, who entered the room. After all, he had learned to play into her combative nature. Agents of the Homeland Intelligence Division (HID) sat busy behind their computers. The room’s ambiance was dark, lit only by mood lights, status blips, and light from the monitor screens.

“Sam, get me a cup of coffee. The usual,” he said to an agent.

“Why would you let the man go?” Persia asked. “He is clearly hiding something. Do you not grasp the seriousness of the situation? Your interrogation style is inadequate. Coupled with physical threats, you would’ve achieved a better result.”

He sighed. “The problem, ma’am, is evidence. We are thoroughly lacking in reasons to justify the way we have already handled him. Further utilizing your methods is like pouring gasoline on fire.”

“I could squeeze any relevant information out of him in no time.”

“And then what, ma’am?” Mason took the coffee from the agent and placed it on the desk in his office next to the observation room. “How do I deal with the aftermath? The suspect is a superhuman with regeneration, who allegedly vanished off the face of the Earth for six years.

“One thing I’ve learned over my 30 years in the force is you treat superhumans like ticking time bombs. Sometimes you fuck with a firecracker and come out unscathed. Other times, you light the fuse and the whole damn city goes up in flames.”

The Grand Master stormed off, slamming his door shut. Mason expelled a long breath and reached for his cigarette. He would have that smoke after all.

❊ ❊ ❊

They dropped Jalen off on the sidewalk of a random street. It worried him not though, as he walked through the streets with a smile on his face. What started off as a truly inconvenient circumstance turned out to be a blessing in disguise days later.

Hours ago, he sat down with HAVEN lawyers and a lawyer they provided to represent him and negotiated reparations for the unfair and inhumane way they treated him. What had been a tactic they employed to scare him into talking had royally backfired.

In the end, Jalen made out with $50,000 from the settlement negotiations. His lawyer told him that the fee HAVEN paid out was way more than they usually did in cases like this. It was probably related to a human rights violation incident the Hermosville Herald was running about HAVEN, that was making waves amongst the masses. He paid his lawyer $5,000 for representing him. Even though he won big, Jalen reminded himself to exercise caution, as HAVEN definitely had their eyes on him.

He retained the lawyer to begin the process of overturning his death certificate. In fact, he planned to go to the court later today. However, his first stop was a mall in order to finally get a phone. Since his bank account was still locked, he paid for the phone with cash.

Using the phone, he contacted his sister and assured her he was alright. Then he called Aunt Darcy to check if they were holding up well. Jessica apologized to him for talking to the police about him, stating that they had intimidated her. That was to be expected. He forgave her and promised to stop by sometime before Aunt Darcy let him get off the phone.

Later that day, it turned out he had been too optimistic about the court proceedings. Or perhaps excitement had clouded his understanding of his lawyer’s words. The first step was petitioning the court to overturn the death certificate. This involved submitting evidence and documentation supporting the claim that he is still alive. He rented a motel nearby and worked rigorously over the next few days to complete this step. Luckily, Ella kept his passport, social security card, and other government-issued identification documents. He made a trip to the bank to collect bank statements and tax records. The manager there was at times unresponsive while being downright rude other times. So his lawyer had to place in a few calls, threatening legal action before the bank manager attended to him.

The rest of the evidence was easy to retrieve. Medical records, pay stubs from the superhero store he worked at, and photographs of himself. The tense moment came when he waited for his DNA testing results. If it came back not matching his registered DNA, then the court process would be moot. A heart-pounding sigh of relief escaped him when the results came out with a plausible match alluding to his superhuman traits changing things.

The last step in this thorough process was to acquire sworn statements or testimonies from witnesses who could attest to having seen or interacted with him after his presumed death. He found the entire ordeal ridiculous and expensive, but what else could do? To alleviate his stress, the lawyer elected to receive his legal fees after the court proceedings were concluded, when HAVEN wired the rest of his settlement into his reinstated bank account. After recording a deposition-style testimony of Ella concerning the proof that he was alive, Jalen made his way over to Aunt Darcy’s.

His aunt pulled him into a tight hug and cried profusely. He held onto her as well, once more feeling the effect his disappearance had on his loved ones. It was comforting to be back. Aunt Darcy relegated his lawyer to a second wheel while showering him with affection, fried chicken, desserts, and apple juice; his favorite. It took a long time before Jessica and Frank got around to recording their testimonies.

“You must come again,” Aunt Darcy pleaded at the doorway.

“I will, aunty,” he said. “And please assure Jessica that everything is alright. It isn’t good when she is this down on herself.”

With the testimonies done, there was nothing he could do but wait. So it was about time he paid a visit to his mother’s resting place. He hopped on a train at the subway, his destination, Southside Haven Memorial Gardens. His journey was ripe with self-reflection afforded by the drab, monotone tunnel the train shot through.

Oddly enough, Southside Haven Memorial Gardens was one of the most beautiful places in Southside Haven. Nestled between two towering trees were wrought-iron gates adorned with intricate scrollwork. Today being a Saturday meant the cemetery was ripe with visitors. The cemetery showcased thoughtful landscaping, with lush greenery, manicured lawns, and vibrant flower beds that provided a sense of tranquility and natural beauty. He traversed the cobblestone pathway, marveling at ornate statues dotting the landscape that paid tribute to the lives and legacies of those laid to rest here. His mother rested deep into the cemetery, in a section not nearly as decorated, but still well maintained.

Dirt and dust masked her headstone, hiding her name from him. So he made a trip to the nearby chapel, retrieved some cleaning supplies, then thoroughly washed her headstone. It was only then that he sat down beside his mother and told her stories about everything that had transpired since her death.

From his seated position, he noticed something peculiar. Next to his mother’s headstone stood another headstone with his name on it. It read:

Jalen Nkanga / 2003 - 2023

Dear Beloved Brother,

Your laughter still echoes in our hearts,

Your kindness is forever remembered.

Though you’re gone from our sight,

Your spirit remains a guiding light.

You loved the stars, yet never pursued science’s path,

But in the cosmos, we feel your presence, unmasked.

Your dreams now dance among celestial spheres,

As you rest in peace, free from earthly fears.

Forever in our hearts, dear Jalen,

Underneath the vast, twinkling cover.

He let out a soft chuckle that came with tears, then sat motionless with his head hung low. If his sister and everyone else thought he died, it made sense that he’d get a headstone of his own. Plus, he couldn’t deny it. He did die that day—though it was technically thousands of years later—and was remade anew. So the headstone would stay. It rested beside his mother, after all.

A few hours later, while the sun merged into the horizon, he made a call to someone he had been putting off since he came back—his ex-best friend, Marco Toscani. Unlike his sister’s number, which was forgotten in time, he remembered Marco’s and Sarah’s. How could he not, after what they did to him? 

“Who is this?” Marco asked. He sounded slightly out of breath but very much the same Marco.

“How much did you pay for my mom’s funeral?” Jalen asked.

“Huh? Who the fuck is this? And what are you talking about?”

Jalen heard a familiar female voice in the background, alleging the fact that it was a scam call. His blood boiled.

“Genevieve Nkanga. Did you pay for her funeral?” Jalen asked.

The call went quiet as Marco probably asked Sarah about the identity of the mystery caller and how he knew about Genevieve.

“Listen fucker, you tell me who you are or I’ll come loo—”

“Take a guess, Marco. I’m the long-dead son of a dead mother.”

Marco fell silent again. Minutes later, he spoke again. “Jalen? That you? It makes no fucking sense. I thought you were dead, my man. We all did.”

He doused his boiling rage with a mental shower. “How much did you pay for my mom’s funeral?”

“My man, the money doesn’t matter. I was just helping my best friend.”

“Dude, answer the fucking question! How much?”

“About $8,000. It’s all good, Jalen. Why don’t you come—”

“I’ll pay you back your money.”

Then he cut the call.

He returned to The Narrows, where his sister’s home was located. Victor sat on her front steps with his head in his hands, faint sobs emitted from him. When he heard Jalen drawing near, his head whipped up.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Victor said, then stood up and wobbled over to him. “Ever since you came back, she has changed and everything’s gone to shit. What the fuck did you do to her?”

“Not much.” He could smell the rancid beer odor from the large man’s mouth. “Perhaps she just saw you for who you are.”

Victor, red-faced with rage, grabbed his collar and nearly lifted him into the air. “Say that again, bitch. I see you like running your mouth like Ella.”

“Know this, Victor. It is for Ella’s sake that I haven’t broken every bone in your body. Release me now while my patience is thinning.”

“Ella’s sake? Why would I give a flying fuck about that bitch? She had the nerve, I tell you…the nerve to break up with me after everything I’ve done for her!”

He punched Victor in the midsection, his fist sinking deep. Victor released him and dropped to his knees, puking out bile and alcohol.

Undisturbed, he unlocked the front door with the key Ella gave him. “Clean up that mess and disappear by the time I come out. Or else broken bones would be the least of your worries.”

---