"Jonas! Wake up! Wake up this instant!" Cherlyn cried, her palm tapping his cheeks with swift insistence.
"Don’t you dare act fragile now. Get up!" she snapped, her voice sharp and uncompromising.
Jonas stirred, his eyelids fluttering open as the world around him spun in disarray. His gaze was unfocused, his breath shallow.
"Where... where am I...? Agent Lyn...? Then it was only a dream...?" he murmured, bewildered.
"You were not dreaming," came a voice. Low, composed, unmistakably real.
Felzein had crouched beside him, his chiselled features framed starkly in the dim light, "And yes, I did knock you senseless."
"Ahhh!!" Jonas cried, recoiling with a gasp. "You... you... you...!"
He gaped at Felzein as though the man were some spectre risen from the grave, his complexion blanching, his breathing ragged and erratic.
"If you faint again," Felzein said with chilling indifference, "I’ll haul your body to the nearest wharf and toss it into the sea."
The threat delivered with unnerving calm, proved remarkably effective.
Jonas, still quaking, forced himself upright into a seated position, his limbs trembling but obedient.
Cherlyn sighed, the sound laced with exasperation and weariness, "Jonas, this is not a jest. Felzein is the true identity of Professor Vaf," she declared with grave clarity.
"Y-You mean to say... you’re truly..." Jonas stammered, eyes wide with disbelief, as though the ground beneath him had suddenly shifted.
"Spot on. Full marks," Felzein replied, a crooked grin playing on his lips as he held up two fingers in a mock salute.
"I-I still can’t quite believe it. You’re really him? Professor Vaf?" Jonas faltered, inching back slightly, as if the truth might explode were he to acknowledge it too swiftly.
Felzein inclined his frame forward, his eyes glinting like steel, “Shall I reacquaint your stomach with my knuckles? Or would a slap suffice this time?”
Jonas blanched and gulped audibly, “No! No need! Thank you ever so much!”
Cherlyn sighed, exasperation simmering beneath her breath, “Jonas, must I replay the entire scene on a projector for your benefit?!” she barked, her tone edged with disbelief.
Jonas stood rooted, rigid as granite, his features contorted in helpless confusion.
With arms folded and brows lowered, Felzein spoke again, a subtle menace in his voice, “Or shall I present the golden clearance card once more? This time, perhaps, with the fingerprint scan to accompany it?”
Jonas paled even further, as if a bucket of icy water had been flung upon him, “No! Truly! There’s no need!” he spluttered. “I believe you! I truly do!”
“Excellent. Then lend us the aircraft at once. We’ve no time to waste. Our destination is Japan,” Felzein declared, his voice clipped and laced with urgency.
Jonas hesitated, shifting uneasily on his feet, “Well… that may prove somewhat difficult…”
“What now?” snapped Cherlyn, her patience fraying fast. “Don’t tell me there’s another obstacle.”
With a long, weary exhale, Jonas’s posture sagged under an invisible weight, “For the past two months,” he began heavily, “our organisation has been prohibited from operating by national authorities.”
“What?!” Felzein and Cherlyn cried out almost in unison, their faces stricken by the revelation.
Jonas offered a slow, solemn nod, “It’s true. We’ve been frozen. Our operational clearance revoked. All access terminated. Several of our agents have been recalled, quietly and without justification.”
Felzein took a single, measured step forward, his voice low and cutting, “Sabotage?”
Jonas’s response came barely above a whisper, “That would be my suspicion, yes. Though I’ve yet to determine who orchestrated it. But one thing is certain. It’s no coincidence.”
Cherlyn’s fists clenched by her sides, her eyes flashing like flint, “There’s a traitor within the house! Someone pulling strings from the shadows.”
Jonas cast his eyes downward, his voice laden with quiet despair, “The situation grows more chaotic by the day, Professor. It’s as though each moment is a snare, cunningly laid.”
Felzein said nothing at first. His brows knitted, the sharp contours of his face betraying a mind already racing through layers of implication.
When at last he spoke, it was with cold precision, “Tell me! Have you crossed swords with anyone of considerable standing as of late? Someone with the means to retaliate from the shadows?”
Jonas took a moment, rifling through memories, weighing names and encounters, his jaw tightening.
“We’ve certainly ruffled feathers. Many of them belonged to people seated far too comfortably in positions of power. But all our actions were in pursuit of justice, for the good of the people,” he said resolutely, though the subtle tremble in his gaze spoke of uncertainty.
He inhaled deeply before continuing, “If I had to name one, it would be Jeffrey Hunanto. He’s a titan of industry, owns half the infrastructure north of the capital.”
Felzein’s expression darkened, “Jeffrey Hunanto?” he repeated, as though summoning the ghost of a forgotten warning.
Jonas nodded gravely, “We’ve intercepted several of his men, each tied to disturbances, black-market deals, coercion, incitement. Yet no matter what charges we present, he slips away untouched. His influence, it’s staggering.”
Felzein leaned in slightly, his tone now a blade sheathed in velvet, “And tell me! Does this Jeffrey Hunanto maintain any known ties to a politician named Derry Budiman?”
Jonas visibly recoiled, the blood draining from his face, “H-How… How do you know that name, Professor?”
Felzein’s reply came like a gavel, “Then it’s true. No wonder Hunanto moves as he pleases. Derry’s the scaffolding beneath his empire.”
He straightened, exhaling through his nose like a man prepared for the storm ahead, “You are to contact central command. Effective immediately, place both men under discreet but constant surveillance, Jeffrey Hunanto and Derry Budiman. I want their movements tracked, their communications intercepted, their alliances mapped.”
“And if they refuse?” Jonas asked, his voice almost a whisper.
Felzein reached into his coat, retrieving a golden identification card, one that shimmered with authority rarely questioned.
He offered it to Jonas with steady hands.
“Tell them this directive bears my seal. And if they dare doubt I still draw breath, show them this.”
Jonas accepted the card with reverence, his fingers trembling as though he held a relic from another world.
“Y-Yes, Professor,” he murmured. “At once.”
Felzein inclined his head ever so slightly, “Now then, tell me! Does the ‘Swift70’ remain operational?”
The blood drained from Jonas’s face, “The Swift70?!” he gasped, scarcely able to contain his shock. “Surely you’re not intending to...”
“I am,” Felzein interjected, his eyes as cold as winter steel, yet glinting with unwavering resolve. “If the skies have been barred, then I shall travel beneath them. I intend to use the submarine.”
Cherlyn, who had been standing nearby, turned sharply, her brow furrowed in disbelief.
“Are you seriously proposing that we sail to Japan underwater?” she asked, her voice coloured with scepticism.
Felzein nodded gravely, “Needs must,” he said with a weary sigh. “If we attempt the usual route through the airport, I’ve no doubt someone will recognise me and that is a luxury we can ill afford.”
Cherlyn’s shoulders sagged with reluctant acceptance, “Very well… I’ll follow,” she murmured, drawing a slow, steadying breath.
It was then that Jonas spoke again, his tone cautious, as though treading on uncertain ground.
“Forgive me, Professor… but may I ask? What mission draws you to Japan?”
Felzein fell silent for a moment. His expression darkened, and the air seemed to still.
Then he uttered a single word, one syllable, yet laden with meaning.
“Ryu!”
Jonas’s eyes widened in astonishment, “Ryu? You mean... Professor Kaito Ryu?!”
Felzein’s reply was firm, “Indeed. I go to Japan for Ryu. I intend to heal him.”
Jonas’s face lit up with unfiltered awe, “That’s… that’s extraordinary!”
Felzein gave him a sidelong glance, one eyebrow arched with suspicion, “And what precisely do you mean by ‘extraordinary’?”
Jonas laughed nervously, scratching his head in that self-deprecating manner of the hopelessly overawed.
“It’s just... both of my idols, alive and well! You, Professor Vaf, and Professor Ryu too!” He grinned sheepishly, the admiration plain in his voice.
“When the news of your deaths reached us, I was gutted. Absolutely gutted. I lost all appetite for days, and then...”
Jonas launched into an impassioned monologue, extolling his admiration and sorrow with such theatrical flair that Felzein and Cherlyn could only shake their heads in mild dismay.
"Utterly melodramatic," Cherlyn muttered, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Jonas gave a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his head, "Well, it’s how I truly felt," he admitted with disarming candour.
Felzein released a curt sigh, "Enough of that. Show me the way. I want to see the Swift70 stationed at this branch," he commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding.
"Of course! Right this way, Professor," Jonas replied with utmost deference, promptly turning to lead the way.
“But what about them…” he asked hesitantly, glancing back at the four guards still unconscious on the floor.
“Douse them with water later,” Felzein replied coolly, not even sparing them a look. “Now get moving.”
“Y-Yes, sir!” Jonas responded, hastening his pace.
The three of them exited the main operations room and ventured into a narrow corridor dimly lit and seldom traversed.
The walls were an austere blend of reinforced steel and concrete, laced with embedded cables and intermittent glows from hidden control panels.
A heavy silence hung over them, broken only by the rhythm of their footsteps and the faint, constant hum of electrical currents pulsing behind the walls.
They passed several sharp corners and a succession of high-security doors, each requiring Jonas to input coded sequences and scan a magnetic keycard before allowing passage.
Eventually, they arrived at a formidable titanium door, its surface matte grey and lined with reinforced ridges.
To its side, a small cylindrical retinal scanner extended from the wall, gleaming faintly under the corridor lights.
Jonas stood before it, eyes wide open.
A thin beam of blue light swept across his iris in a vertical motion, followed by a mechanical chime and a calm synthetic voice:
"Biometric authentication: Retinal pattern confirmed. Welcome, Agent Jonas Verro."
With a hiss of hydraulics, the great door began to lift, revealing a sloping corridor of cold metal lined with dim, flickering lights on either side.
The air grew perceptibly cooler, dense with the scent of aged metal and machinery long dormant.
"Welcome to the sub-basement of the branch headquarters," Jonas said quietly, his voice taut with a blend of pride and apprehension.