Bringing Comfort to the Abandoned Subway Station, the Liaison Director's Art of Conversation
The wind on the subway platform carried a damp smell of rust and dust.
Gwen Stacy Stacy was dressed in a well-tailored black uniform, the collar buttoned up perfectly. Behind her were two Liaison Office officers in the same uniform, carrying several insulated boxes and supply bags bearing the logo of the Negative Zone Logistics Department.
Hela's Undead Centurion expressionlessly opened the isolation door leading to the depths of the platform for them. Behind the door, the previously arrogant "Inspection Group" members were now being held in several "detention rooms" temporarily converted from energy barriers.
Their suits were wrinkled, and their faces bore expressions that were either anxious or gloomy.
Instead of heading straight for the Man with Gold-Rimmed Glasses who was leading the group, Gwen Stacy first had her subordinates distribute the hot food, clean drinking water, and blankets from the insulated box to the other members of the Inspection Group.
The entire process was quiet and orderly.
The Liaison Office officers didn't utter a word, mechanically performing the tasks of distributing, recording, and collecting tableware. This silent, procedural "care" was more oppressive than any humiliation.
The Man with Gold-Rimmed Glasses leaned against the energy barrier, coldly observing everything.
He didn't touch the food that was delivered.
After the "sending warmth" process was completed, Gwen Stacy signaled to an operator to set up a portable metal table and two folding chairs in the open space in the center of the platform.
She sat down first, then gestured "please" towards the detention room where the Man with Gold-Rimmed Glasses was.
The Undead Centurion understood and removed the energy barrier in that room.
The Man with Gold-Rimmed Glasses straightened his collar, stepped out, and sat down opposite Gwen Stacy. He looked at the table, then at Gwen Stacy.
"If this is how you treat your guests, then it's truly unique," he said, his voice hoarse and tinged with sarcasm.
Gwen Stacy didn't respond to him. Instead, she took a miniature recorder from her briefcase, placed it in the center of the table, and pressed the start button.
The red indicator light flashed silently.
"As per regulations, we are under protective detention. Today's conversation is part of the review process," Gervin said in a flat, emotionless voice. "First, we are here to understand your living needs and ensure your basic rights are protected. Is the food to your liking? Are there any areas where your accommodations need improvement?"
The Man with Gold-Rimmed Glasses laughed, his laughter sounding somewhat jarring in the empty subway station.
"Stop acting, little girl. Do you really think you can make us give in with such a little trick?"
He leaned forward, crossed his hands on the table, and stared sharply at Gwen Stacy.
"This is my last warning to you, and to those behind you. My name is B-15, and I am here on official business under the orders of Kang the Conqueror. Your current actions are a blatant challenge to the authority of Council of Kangs. Release us now, and it's not too late. Otherwise, when Kang's army arrives, you won't even have the chance to submit a written explanation."
Gwen Stacy as he finished speaking, a pen in her hand, writing something in the notebook in front of her.
Upon hearing the name "Kang," her pen paused only slightly.
"Mr. B-15, is that right?" Gwen Stacy up, her gaze calmly meeting his. "You just mentioned ' Kang the Conqueror ' and ' Council of Kangs.' Could you please elaborate on the organizational structure, functions, and affiliation with the ' Multiverse Coordination Committee ' of these two entities? This information is crucial for us to verify your identity."
B-15's expression froze.
He had prepared a whole host of threats, but he hadn't expected the other party to respond in this way. She was like a meticulous police officer questioning an unknown outsider.
"You have no right to know this!" B-15's voice rose a few decibels.
"Then let's change the subject." Gwen Stacy's tone remained unchanged. "According to our records, during your detention, you activated the highest level alarm without permission. We are initially classifying this action as 'suspected endangerment of Dimension security.' Do you have any explanation for this?"
"I was calling for help! You were the ones who illegally detained me first!" B-15 slammed his fist on the table.
"We are in 'protective detention,' not 'unlawful confinement,'" Gwen Stacy corrected, pointing to the recorder on the table. "Mr. B-15, please watch your wording. Every word you say will be recorded in its entirety as evidence for subsequent investigations."
She firmly grasped the initiative in the conversation. Whether the other party threatened or yelled, she turned it into "case details" that required the other party to explain and prove.
B-15 felt an unprecedented sense of frustration. He felt like he had punched a ball of cotton, all his strength dissipated into nothingness.
His proud background and status are utterly useless here, in the face of these cold, impersonal procedures.
Gwen Stacy, seeing his increasingly pale face, knew the time was almost right.
She took another document from her briefcase and pushed it in front of B-15.
The document's heading bore the prominent words: "Detention Notice".
"This is the final step in this discussion," Gwen Stacy said. "Please sign this notice to acknowledge that you are aware of your detention and the rights and obligations we have read to you."
B-15 stared intently at the notification, his chest heaving violently.
Signing meant that he acknowledged the legality of the other party's procedures and admitted that he had been reduced from a high-ranking "inspector" to a "suspect" under investigation.
This is an utter disgrace.
"What if I don't sign?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"We will note 'the person refused to sign' in the report. This is also part of the review process," Gwen Stacy's answer was airtight. "However, according to procedure, refusal to cooperate may lead to a reassessment of your detention level and review period. My personal suggestion is that you sign it."
silence.
B-15 looked at Gwen Stacy's young yet expressionless face, then at the Undead Soldiers standing beside her like a statue, and at the recorder flashing red light.
He knew he had no choice.
He grabbed the pen abruptly, as if he wanted to crush it, and hastily signed his code name at the end of the notification.
After signing, he forcefully pushed the notice back to Gwen Stacy.
Just as Gwen Stacy reached out to take it, B-15 leaned forward slightly, his lips moving silently.
No sound was made.
But Gwen Stacy understood.
That was lip reading.
A secret about her father, spoken in the language of her own universe.
Gwen Stacy's outstretched hand paused almost imperceptibly in mid-air.
For the first time, a crack appeared in the calm on her face.