Chapter 18 – Anti-Mutant Forces (Part 2)
Time crawled.
Zane stood against the wall, posture slouched, eyes vacant, performing his role like an actor born for the stage. The silence that filled the hallway was far more deafening than any scream. Fifteen people. Fifteen strangers huddled together in a tense standoff with a boy and a corpse.
They watched him like a caged animal. Every twitch of his hand, every shift in his breathing was scrutinized. Their expressions were a blend of fear and disgust—like they wanted to back away, but didn't dare to.
Zane felt none of it. Not the judgment. Not the tension. Not the unease. He'd lived with all those eyes in his past life—coworkers, clients, enemies. Their eyes were always the same. Cold. Calculating. Or, in some cases, simply indifferent.
So he wore the mask of the old Zane. Fragile. Nervous. The kind of person who avoided eye contact and stammered when spoken to. That was what they expected, and that is exactly what they will get.
In the background, his real mind was working like a machine.
He scanned every face. Burned their details into memory. That man with the lazy eye and clenched fists—defensive, potentially dangerous. The couple holding their teenage daughter close—protective types, not likely to act. The elderly woman in a bathrobe shaking as she clutched a rosary—harmless, terrified.
A few families. A few loners. A small ecosystem of tenants, and none of them had ties to the original Zane. Not one familiar face among them. No one looked heartbroken or even concerned. Just scared. Suspicious and very hostile. That made him safely assume that he was only in a good relationship with the landlord and only the landlord.
'Perfect,' Zane thought. 'No attachments means no one to contradict whatever story I give. But it also means no one to stand up for me if things go south.'
It was a double-edged sword, and he was already walking on the blade.
Just then, a sound echoed in the distance—long, metallic, and shrill. Not quite a police siren. Sharper. Harsher. Something military. Zane tilted his head toward the window just as the first set of futuristic vehicles screeched to a halt outside the building.
Dozens of figures in white and black hazmat suits emerged with clockwork precision. Each one carried strange rifles strapped to their backs and devices strapped to their chests, blinking with lights. Helmets masked their faces entirely, with glowing blue visors and air filters hissing with each breath.
A man near the front raised his hand.
"Lock down the area. Seal the building. Check neighboring complexes. I want a thirty-meter radius cleared immediately!"
The others moved without question. Fast. Efficient. Hive-minded.
The aura they exuded was nothing short of oppressive. Even the air itself seemed to stiffen.
"M-Mommy… who are they?" a small voice asked behind Zane. A child clung to his mother, shaking as the soldiers stormed the front doors.
The mother didn't answer. She just held her child tighter, mouth trembling.
Within minutes, the AMF stormed the building. Twenty agents, at least. They moved in tight formation, weapons ready but not yet raised. Some carried handheld scanners that emitted a pulsing green light as they swept them along walls, ceilings, even the floor.
Others broke off into search teams. Every step they took echoed through the stairwell with the weight of military boots and intent.
Then, finally, they arrived on Zane's floor.
"Everyone, remain where you are!" one of them barked.
"N-No one here was bitten! I swear! We didn't touch anything!" a middle-aged man said, hands in the air like a criminal.
"We'll determine that for ourselves," the lead agent replied coolly. "Line up. Everyone gets scanned. No exceptions. We must make sure nobody has the 'Mutation Gene' activated in them. It won't take long."
Zane watched silently as panic spread like wildfire through the group. No one wanted to be near him anymore. People shuffled to the opposite side of the hallway, making space as if he were radioactive.
'So… they can scan for the gene itself,' he thought, eyes narrowing. 'Mutation Gene. That explains it. It's not just surface-level. It integrates into the DNA. That would explain the grotesque body changes I saw before.'
He glanced briefly at the disfigured corpse still lying on the floor. The stench had grown stronger, mixed with the iron tang of blood and the sickly-sweet rot of something unnatural.
Two agents split from the group and approached carefully.
Weapons lowered. Distance maintained.
"Stay right where you are," one of them said. His voice was muffled through his helmet's filter, but Zane caught the suspicion behind it.
"Did you kill him?" the second agent asked bluntly.
Zane's lips trembled. He took a shuddering breath. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor like a puppet cut from its strings. He covered his face with his hands and let out a pitiful, hiccupping sob.
"I-I was just trying to go home…" he whimpered. "He came at me… h-he was bleeding… melting… I didn't know what to do! I panicked! I pushed him and… and he hit his head, and then he got back up! H-He wouldn't stop! So I— I stomped! I just stomped and kept stomping until he stopped moving!"
The hallway was silent, save for his heaving cries.
Even the agents hesitated.
The one on the left lowered his scanner slightly. The other looked toward the leader, then back at Zane.
"He's a kid," one of them murmured. "Barely looks fourteen."
"Check him anyway," the first replied. "Make sure he wasn't scratched or exposed. I'll deal with the body."
"Got it."
Then, the man stepped forward and carefully spoke. "Hey, calm down, boy. We aren't here to hurt you, ok? What's your name?"
"Z-Zane."
"Zane? Oh, you have a nice name. Now, listen to me, Zane. You have done a great thing by killing that mutant. Not many are brave enough to do such a feat, and you're admirable for it. You saved the lives of many people. But… This still doesn't mean we can just let you go back home immediately. We must make sure you're completely fine first. I promise you everything will be fine and you will be let go in no time."
Zane didn't lift his face, but behind his fingers, his eyes gleamed coldly.
'You're lying,' he thought as the agent crouched a good distance away from him. 'Your voice is calm, but your heart's racing. You think I might mutate in front of you. You're trying to keep me from lashing out. That could possibly be a trigger for the mutation, or he simply doesn't want me to suddenly touch him.'
He didn't blame them. It was the smart move. But it also told him something important.
Mutation wasn't always immediate.
And fear might accelerate it.
Zane looked up, wide-eyed.
"O-Okay… What do I need to do?"
"Just hold still," the agent replied. "We'll scan your DNA and your blood. Then, if everything checks out, you can go home."
Zane nodded slowly, still sniffling.
Inwardly, he was calculating his next steps.
'I'm still not fully certain if I have been infected or not. I wasn't certainly scratched or bitten by the monster, but it could also be transmitted through simple touch.' He thought to himself.
The scanner passed over him with a soft beep. Then another. Then, the agent gently pressed something against his neck—it was cold, then warm, then gone. Everything happened surprisingly quickly, way quicker than Zane could make anything of it.
'It seems they at least advanced technologically when it came to mutants. Makes sense why they would focus their scientific minds on this.' He mused. In the end, the man pulled away quickly.
No reaction. No alarm. No mutation signal. All the tense atmosphere vanished as quickly as it appeared.
The agents exchanged glances.
"He's clean," one said.
The leader nodded.
"Bag the corpse. Run full-spectrum scans on it. I want to know how it mutated, when it mutated, and if there are any signs of environmental triggers. The rest of you—double-check every floor. I want a full sweep."
Then he turned to Zane.
"You're going to be okay, son," he said, his voice softer now. "You did something important today. Just hold on a bit longer."
Zane gave him a watery nod and sat quietly, still playing the part.
"Before we let you go, I want you to tell us what exactly happened and what you saw. This is very important, so please remember every single detail you can. Take your time."