The holding cell was secure, but Officer Lena Vance knew better than to trust walls. The man she had captured—the one with the cloaking suit—sat on the bench, his eyes vacant, his lips moving silently.
"Command, this is Vance. The suspect isn't talking."
"Copy, Vance. We're sending a psychic interrogator. ETA ten minutes."
Lena studied the man. His suit was still active, its surface shimmering faintly.
"You can't hide forever," she said.
He looked up, his eyes focusing. "I'm not hiding. I'm waiting."
"For what?"
The lights flickered. The man's eyes glowed red.
"For him