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Director Alexander Anderson stepped down onto the landing pad on the roof of the secret STRIKE detention facility located in the forest just outside of Lost Haven. Once the black special ops chopper that had transported him from Washington DC had touched down at the facility, a large group of staff descended on the craft, each eager to welcome him to the facility.

[i]Don’t you people have work to do?[/i] Anderson thought to himself as he greeted the “welcoming committee.” Anderson was less than pleased to have been pulled away from the STRIKE headquarters in the nation’s capital, however, a part of him couldn’t resist the chance to put a problem in its place. 

“Welcome to Alpha Base, Sir. The subject is currently in an isolation unit on sublevel 7.2.” One of the facility’s administrators told the Director.

“He’s completely cut off from all electronics?” Anderson asked.

“Of course.”

“And the suit?” 

“The suit is currently being stored safely in the armory.” The administrator said proudly.

“Good.” Anderson said as he made his way into the building. “Take me to him.”

Anderson was led through the building by a pair of administrators. Though he knew every inch of the facility, he allowed them to point out the various features of the building as they made their way through it. Though listening to their prattling on was akin to nails on a chalkboard, he didn’t stop them.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Anderson, they reached the door to sublevel 7.2. 
“I can take it from here gentlemen.” Anderson said as he turned to his escorts, making it perfectly clear that this was not a request.

“Director?” One of the administrators protested.

“It’s alright, I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.” Anderson said, perhaps more smugly than he had intended.

Anderson made his way down the long corridor of sublevel 7.2. While one might expect such a place to be dark and dingy, it was anything but. The harsh white lights and almost sterile surroundings might remind you of a hospital wing. The only difference being that in place of relatively comfortable rooms, there were what could only be described a glass pods, each containing a single individual. The cells themselves were Spartan in nature, a single uncomfortable cot and a steel toilet were the only furniture in the pods, which were kept at least 20 degrees cooler than room temperature. 

Anderson continued through the main corridor and went through another secure doorway. On the other side of this door was a single cell, and in that cell sat a single young man. Though he may be unassuming, the young man in the cell was more than capable of creating havoc on a large scale, and in fact, he had done so very recently during the Lost Haven Riots.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’ve caused a lot of trouble Mr. Price. I mean really, using a news chopper as a battering ram? That was…somewhat uncalled for, don’t you think?” Anderson said as he approached the cell.

Angel looked up at the man, no, the Director, as he approached. The sedatives had worn off not too long ago, and he still had a headache. Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, and looking at Anderson distastefully, he said, [color=Silver]"You know what else is uncalled for? Knocking me out, wrecking my home, and taking me back here. [i]God,[/i] I haven't been here in ages, and for good reason."[/color] 

Standing up groggily, Angel staggered over to the glass wall, and leaned in, slamming his fist on it. [color=Silver]"You don't think I feel guilty? That those three people that I killed don't haunt me? Well they do, Anderson. And from some of the stuff I've found in your databases, you should be a lot more penitent."[/color]

Turning away, disgusted, Angel sat down on the cot and leaned against the wall, eyeing the Director with distaste. [color=Silver]"And you know what is really uncalled for, Director? Getting a woman with FREAKING PLASMA-BASED FLIGHT ROBOTS AND DRONE BODIES TO TRANQ ME WHEN I WAS ABOUT TO GO AFTER THE SHROUD!"[/color]

Anderson listened to Angel’s protests and simply shrugged. He wasn’t interested in arguing semantics with the metahuman, he was simply there to show the young meta that no matter how far he ran, no matter where he hid, that STRIKE would eventually track him down, and could bring him in on a whim.

“Angel, my conscience is clear. I’ve never done anything that wasn’t for the greater good. Unfortunately, you can’t say the same. You murdered three people, three people with families…mind you, and you did it so that you could get an upper hand in a pissing contest with a low level merc. It’s a shame too, that reporter was quite the looker. I can’t say I thought much of her ‘reporting’ skills, but she was easy on the eyes.” Anderson said in slightly mocking turn.

“As for our tactics in bringing you in…you should be thankful that we sent Archangel after you and not Iron Knight, for all of her quirks, the young lady has shown a lot more…restraint than the Knight. Besides, you’re wasting your time going after the Shroud Syndicate. They’re an annoyance, and while they have proven to be dangerous, they are nothing compared to the threats that we are facing. If you knew half of what you thought you knew, you’d know that your ‘talents’ are misplaced in going after the Shroud Syndicate.” Anderson’s tone was condescending. He paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in.

“Mr. Price, we’ve been testing you from the moment you walked out of this facility. Son, do you really think that someone like you could really break into our database as easily as you did and get such sensitive information if we didn’t want you to? Granted, you did surprise us when you [i]commandeered[/i] Sherlock, and for that I congratulate you…but the secret files you hacked into, the deep dark secrets that you found…son, I really do hate to break it to you, but you didn’t find anything that I didn’t want you to find.” Anderson paused for a moment as he looked away from Angel.

“You know, that mech of yours is something special. And don’t even think of trying to repeat your…disappearing act. You’ll never get to the suit, it’s securely locked away in the Level 3 armory. No, I don’t think you’d stand a chance of getting to it in one piece.” Anderson smiled as he took a small datapad out of his pocket and set it on the ground just outside of Angel’s cell.

“Son, we’re headed for a war…I want you to be sure that you’re fighting for the right side.” Anderson said, smiling as he turned away from Angel Price and made his way back out of the cell block.  

Angel remained silent as Anderson justified his actions. Well, it seemed that he was doing everything for the same reasons that Angel was, although his conscience was not troubled by the terrible things he'd done. As the Director flippantly disregarded War-Pulse, Angel shook his head. [color=Silver]"The only reason you think that War-Pulse's threat level is negligible is because I had caught him at a bad time, apparently. I was barely able to hold him off, and the news copter got me the chance to escape."[/color]

Anderson then made mocking comments about the female reporter's looks, and lack of actual skill, and this simply infuriated him even more. This man simply exacerbated any situation he got involved in, him and his damned organization. Dammit, he felt bad enough already. Would he have to shoulder this man's moral burden, as well? Then, Anderson decided to drop a bomb on him, out of the blue. 

Wh-what? They had known? He had been so careful! It was all a test? So... everything he did was worthless? No! That couldn't be true! Could it? Angel leaned against the back of the cell, and covered his face with his hands. However, he needed to correct Anderson on one thing. Taking a deep breath, and lowering his hands, which he clenched into fists. [color=Silver]"I didn't [i]commandeer[/i] Sherlock, Director. I freed him."[/color] After that, he felt no need to talk to the Director. The only thing he wanted to do was punch that smug bastard's nose in, but that was impossible. So he sat in his cell, and he waited for him to leave.

When the Director left the detention block, at least from what Angel could see, the young man looked at the datapad that Anderson had given him. It was no secret that Angel could easily use this to wreak havoc on STRIKE, working with his prior knowledge of the facility, and his special abilities. So he didn't trust it. Hell, he didn't trust the very air he breathed, so steeped in subterfuge and plotting. So he tentatively synchronized with the device, and discovered that there was no discernible malicious software of any kind, so he probed deeper. 

There were several video, audio, picture, and text files, so Angel browsed through them at lightning speed; able to process the information much quicker; as fast as the machine could load them, Angel could view them and understand them. The data formed decipherable patterns, as Angel watched.