They stopped at the end of the corridor in front of a reinforced interrogation room.
Two armed officers stood guard outside while the thick observation glass beside the door had already been cracked once and replaced.
The detective turned toward them, his earlier irritation gone. "I'm telling you now," he said seriously, "this guy isn't normal."
Harleen Quinzel frowned slightly but kept her professional tone. "At the end of the day, he's still a patient. Is all this really necessary? He's restrained, so how dangerous can one prisoner actually be?"
The detective looked at her for a moment before answering. "The first three doctors asked the same thing."
He rubbed his face tiredly.
"None of them lasted more than ten minutes in that room. One walked out screaming and started smashing his own head into a wall."
"Another had a panic attack so bad he needed sedation. The third hasn't spoken properly since yesterday."
Harleen's expression stiffened. She had expected difficult, maybe violent—not this.
"Wait," she said carefully. "It's that bad?"
"We've had trained officers refuse to stay near him," the detective replied. "People start acting wrong after talking to him too long. That's why we called Arkham."
Harleen glanced toward the sealed door again. "Then why not move him directly to an asylum?"
"Because the court wants proof first," the detective said. "Until a psychiatrist officially declares him mentally unstable, he's still classified as a prisoner, not a patient."
"This is part of why I hate laws," Daniel said. "Too many loopholes."
Then he looked at the detective. "What exactly did this guy do?"
The detective's expression hardened. "Murdered three high school students. Two boys and one girl."
"Reason?" Daniel asked.
"According to him?" The detective let out a humorless breath. "They annoyed him while he was sleeping in the park."
Daniel was quiet for a second. "Weapon?"
"A brick," the detective replied. "He smashed their heads in."
Harleen's expression changed slightly at that. She had expected unstable, maybe violent, but this sounded colder than ordinary insanity.
The detective looked directly at her. "So please be careful, Doctor. Because if this evaluation goes wrong and he's declared mentally unfit, the court will order us to transfer him to an asylum."
His jaw tightened afterward.
He clearly did not want that happening. He wanted the man locked in a prison cell, not somewhere people might eventually call him 'treatable.'
"Don't worry," Daniel said as he pulled the door open. "The doctor and I will make sure he gets exactly what he deserves."
The detective didn't look reassured by that sentence.
The two of them stepped inside the interrogation room.
It was cold, plain, and brightly lit. A metal table sat in the center with a single chair on each side. The prisoner was restrained to one of them, wrists cuffed tightly against the armrests.
He looked ordinary at first glance.
Thin build. Messy hair. Tired clothes.
But his eyes felt wrong. Empty in a way that didn't look human.
"Well," Harleen Quinzel muttered under her breath as she pulled out the chair, "here goes nothing."
She sat down across from him and opened the file.
Daniel leaned against the wall nearby, arms folded, watching quietly.
Harleen glanced at the first page before looking up at the prisoner. "Let's start simple. What's your name?"
"Jake Wilson," the man replied calmly.
Harleen nodded once and picked up her pen. "Alright, Jake. I'm Dr. Quinzel. I'm here to evaluate your mental condition."
Harleen rested the file on the table and clicked her pen once. "When you killed those students," she asked calmly, "what were you feeling?"
Jake looked at her for a few seconds without blinking.
"Annoyed," he said.
"Annoyed enough to kill three people?"
"They wouldn't stop talking," Jake replied. "I was trying to sleep."
Daniel, leaning against the wall, looked at him for a moment. "You know most people just tell others to shut up, right?"
Jake slowly turned his head toward him. "Most people are noisy."
"That somehow didn't answer the concern."
Harleen ignored Daniel and continued writing notes. "Did you feel guilty afterward?"
Jake's dead-looking eyes shifted back to her.
"Should I have? And before that, doctor… aren't you a little young?" Jake said while looking directly at Harleen Quinzel. "You really shouldn't wear such plain coats. You should wear something sexier."
Harleen's face immediately twisted in disgust.
Jake grinned wider. "No? Then why don't you come over here and give me your mouth?"
Harleen looked genuinely disturbed now. This guy was seriously fucked in the head.
At the same time, Jake himself was confused.
A month ago, people had started obeying him whenever he gave direct commands. Slowly at first, then more and more easily.
One person at a time—that was the limit—but once he got into someone's head, he could push thoughts around until they stopped trusting themselves.
That was what happened to the previous doctors. He had spent minutes twisting their thoughts until panic and paranoia broke them apart.
This time, though, the doctor was attractive enough that he decided he might as well enjoy himself first.
"So that's what this is," Daniel said. "You're a metahuman."
Jake's eyes widened.
Daniel was suddenly behind him.
One hand clenched into Jake's hair and yanked his head back hard enough to make the chair scrape loudly against the floor.
"Hey—what the fuck?!" Jake shouted, struggling against the restraints. "Let go of me! I know my rights!"
"You lost the right to complain somewhere around the triple homicide."
*****
A/N: If you'd like to read ahead of the Webnovel release schedule, you can join my Patreon!
The Patreon version is 30 chapters ahead.
👉 patreon.com/Universal_Peace