PART 1: VINCENT – Chapter 14

Liam, Sabine, Austin, Vincent, and Marielle all sat in the meeting room toward the front of the large oval table. Marielle bit a hangnail nervously, while Sabine leaned against a single finger, her face pallid. Austin was yawning and trying to cover it with the back of his wrist. Marielle wondered how late he had been up and what exactly he’d been doing. Then she thought better of that one. Nope. She didn’t want to know. 

Before long, the doors opened at the back of the room, and Kirra, Tala, Jamie, Mateo, Kiritani, Sasha, Wei Ling, Erik, Klara, and Tayane all filed in. Some took seats, while a few remained standing like Tala, who leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, snapping her gum and making big, pink bubbles with it. 

“Okay,” Vincent began, standing and tucking one arm behind his back. Liam and Erik both looked ready to shoot at him at any time. “Mesdames et messieurs, je m’appelle Vincent Fabron.”

“Never trust someone who says full phrases in a different language in a room full of English speakers,” Austin said under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest. Marielle got the impression this was a joke that didn’t land right.

“Would you like to translate?” Vincent asked, glaring daggers at Austin, who lifted an open hand as if telling him to continue. “I said, ‘Hello, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Vincent Fabron.’ I apologize that we have not been properly introduced. I would not mind speaking with all of you later if I am permitted.”

“He’s charming, I’ll give him that,” Klara whispered to Kirra.

Kirra nodded. “I want to be his friend.”

“Let’s get to why you’re here,” Liam growled, then sipped his coffee. 

Vincent tilted his head forward. “Simply put, I am here to help.” At this, he launched into a speech about dimensional travel, using a lot of confusing scientific terms. Eventually, he noticed everyone’s blank faces and paused. “I’m guessing no one in the room understands what I’m getting at. Mon Dieu…”

“I do!” Klara lifted a hand.

Vincent nodded. “I thought you would, to be honest.” He pushed his glasses back up. “I’ll be as plain as possible: I come from a different dimension.”

Austin flicked his gaze to Barbara, who met his eyes, then quickly broke eye contact as her expression grew serious. Marielle noticed this and slotted it in her mind for later. What was that look about? 

“In my world,” Vincent continued, “we also discovered radianite over twenty years ago, and many of us gained special abilities when we were exposed to it, similar to here. The difference is that in my world, the radianite has a slightly different composition and is slowly killing everyone on the planet. There is no stopping it.” 

He paused, put a hand on the table as if steadying himself, then straightened and continued. “They have been tinkering with a specific kind of fusion, just as you have here, and have developed a teleporter of sorts. They’ve figured out how to use it to open space and time—with my help, I’m afraid—as well as how to travel to other dimensions.”  

“Are you suggesting that there are more dimensions?” Sabine interjected.

He nodded once. “There are.”

“How many?” Jamie asked from the back of the room.

“We are uncertain,” Vincent replied.

“If you’re from another dimension, the one that’s trying to get rid of us… Why would you come over here to help us?” Liam asked.

Vincent nodded as if this was a reasonable question. “Because how would you feel?” Everyone in the room looked as though they were considering this. “I wanted a solution as much as anyone, which is why I helped them stabilize the fusion to create the teleporter. At one point, we could bring people in but not send someone out. As a result, I was able to bring in myself.”

Marielle’s heart quickened. He hadn’t destroyed the factory… his double had. 

“I wrote codes and built many things for them. I didn’t know that the end result was moving toward the annihilation of an entire other world. Wouldn’t you want to help?”

Again, everyone was silent, drumming their lips and gazing at one another with narrowed eyes. 

“So we’re all over there?” Jamie asked.

Vincent looked from person to person and gave a small nod to each of them. “Oui, you are, and most of you are much the same as you are here. Marielle was a profiler. Jamie, you were just alike; Sasha, the same…” 

“Who was the blonde woman?” Marielle asked, her eyes narrowing.

Vincent shook his head. “She is not here with you—yet.” He took a deep breath. “While many things are very similar between the two dimensions, not all events went the same way, and not all people are exactly alike.”

“But, I mean… You killed me, bro… How am I supposed to process that?” 

“Jamie”—Vincent pushed his glasses up again—“think of it like this. I did not shoot you; I shot someone whose ultimate goal was to kill you and everyone else in this dimension.”

Jamie snapped his mouth shut and briefly pursed his lips. “That makes me feel a little better.”

“What does any of this have to do with her?” Barbara asked, gesturing to Marielle. She met eyes with Barbara, then looked back at Vincent expectantly.

“That, I cannot say. Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m not entirely sure. It seems they need her for something.”

“Hang on a second.” Austin leaned forward. “If we’re all mirror images of someone on the other side… Then there’s another version of you here already, isn’t there?”

Vincent eyed Austin. “Oui.”

Marielle noted that the two of them seemed to be having an entirely different conversation with their eyes and body language than they were with their mouths, but she hadn’t the slightest idea what they were communicating to one another. The tension between them was thick.

“Well, where is he?” Austin pressed, blinking a few times.

“I’m not certain. The last I heard he was in Bergen.”

“Norway?” Marielle asked.

Vincent nodded. “I have already reached out to him, but knowing me…” He grinned proudly. “I don’t trust easily, and I have been known to disappear like vapor… poof.” He chuckled. “He doesn’t want to be found.”

“Can I ask a question?” Sabine growled.

Vincent nodded. “Oui.”

“If you’re here to help, why didn’t you just say so? And why let us imprison you, torture you, beat you?”

“To prove that I could.”

“So you’re an adrenaline junky?” Liam scoffed, thumbing his hat back from his bushy copper brows. 

Vincent threw his head back and chuckled. “No, no, Monsieur. I did not need to prove it to myself. I know myself quite well. To you.”

“Why?” Liam asked, leaning over the table.

“Because you needed to know who you are dealing with. You’re going to want me on this team.”

“And why should we trust you?” Austin asked, shifting his gaze from the table to Vincent.

Vincent glowered at him. “Why should anyone in this room trust you, Dr. Rancor?” Everyone fell silent. “Or this Barbara Hammond? You see? I can play that game, too… And I will tell you off the record, I am known to be untrustworthy.” He gave them a wry grin. “Oui.”

“Man, you’re just like… admitting it?” Mateo asked from the back near Jamie.

“Why not? You’ll find out sooner or later. At some point, we’ll encounter Chamber, and when we do, you might realize exactly who he is—and thus, who I am.”

“And who is that, Mr. Fabron?” Barbara asked tightly.

“Someone who is mostly out for himself.” 

“Again, why tell us any of this?” Marielle ventured.

“Simple, really. If you want someone to trust you, you tell them the absolute truth.” He turned his gaze to Austin, who wasn’t looking at him. “Isn’t that right, Austin?”

Austin raised a brow, tucked his chin in, and shook his head. “Fold,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m telling you God’s truth. Although I am generally not trustworthy, I’m here to help.”

“Why would we believe you after an admission like that?” asked Sabine, turning slightly in her chair.

“What choice do you have?”

Liam’s brows furrowed, then knit together tightly. “I got a lot of choices, here, soldier,” he said, glancing around the room. All of the other agents looked like they were preparing for a fight, their stances tightening and fingers dangling near weapons. Mateo held a hand up, ready to release one of his little minions if necessary, and Sasha reached for the bow hanging at his side. Sabine looked like she’d spit acid at any moment. Austin, Marielle, and Barbara were the only ones who remained calm.

Vincent smirked and tipped his chin up, looking down at the room over the top of his glasses. He seemed to get… taller. “Really? You’re not threatening me, Monsiuer… Let us not forget that I could have escaped this building any time that I wanted. If nothing else can prove me trustworthy to all of you…” A pregnant pause. “Let us also not forget that I can do this.” 

With a single, lightning-fast movement, he pulled a large sniper rifle from thin air. He held it in his hands for a moment, as if ready to point it at any of them. Everyone drew their guns and aimed them at him. 

“Ah. See, now you’re all afraid. If I had wanted to kill any of you, don’t you think I would have done it already? Don’t you? I could kill everyone in this room from over two miles away, and you’d never know who fired the shot.” He gently set the rifle on the table for all of them to observe and took one step back.

“Yeah, I think we’d all have a pretty good idea of who did it based on the sound that thing makes,” growled Sasha, training his arrow between Vincent’s eyes. 

Vincent gave him a knowing smile. “Only if I were close, mon ami.” He snapped his right hand closed, and the gun glittered back up into his arms, returning the tattoo to his forehead.

“How do those things work?” Kiritani asked in awe.

“This? Is all nanotech I developed. Klara”—he nodded at her—“will understand. I did this to myself. It was a long, very painful process that involved burning off parts of my own skin and inserting many things into my body.”

Mateo made a gagging sound, and someone laughed. “That’s something I never needed to know.”

Vincent went on as if he hadn’t heard him. “You cannot remove it. It’s encoded to me, and me alone. Were I to die, the weapons would simply turn to dust and float away. No one else can own or possess this technology. It’s in my very DNA.” 

Austin swallowed thickly and turned to the left, four fingers against his lips. He’s trying not to say something, Marielle realized.

“And Chamber?” Sabine asked.

“Is the same. I know him too well—he’s me, after all. A less experienced, more cocky me, but me all the same.” 

“Yeah, but does he look that good in a suit?” Kirra asked with a small, silent chuckle.

“Oui.” Then he bent for a moment again, as if trying to brace himself up, and straightened. Marielle looked him over sadly. The last twenty-four hours had affected him whether he wanted to admit it or not. “Give me a week or two, I’ll show you. I’ll help…” He paused again. “I can help John.” 

Sabine’s eyes widened a little, and she leaned forward. “You see, the explosion”—Vincent interrupted himself in French with what sounded like a blessing or prayer out of respect for Morgan, John, and Peter—“which took so much from you, Sabine, was created from the other side. Someone broke through, but they couldn’t cross over.”

Sabine’s eyes widened even more, and she pushed herself up from the table, heading for the door before pausing and standing with her back to everyone in a sort of daze. They all let her be out of respect, or possibly fear to approach her.

“I can build things, help you all prepare,” Vincent explained with a reassuring nod. “But let’s talk about something else first.” He swallowed hard. “There are agents on the other side that don’t exist here yet, and some that never will, like Iselin. Her path in life is still in Norway. It has not come this way yet.”

“Considering that Chamber was in Norway, it might,” Barbara pointed out.

Vincent nodded thoughtfully. “Oui.”

Marielle drummed her bottom lip in thought. “Why did she hate you so much?”

Vincent bobbed his head one way, then the other. “I may have been the reason she lost her arm,” he said with a small, silent chuckle. “Well, no, a giant radianite bear was why she lost her arm, but I may have had a hand in it.” He chuckled again with a closed fist to his mouth. “Okay, that wasn’t meant to be a joke, but…” His smile broke through again.

Austin, who had obviously been trying to remain as serious as possible until this point, broke out in a “joke realized” grin and made a sound like a vacuum bag bursting. Then he literally wiped the smile off of his face with a rub of his left hand and sat back.

“Back on track, classroom.” Liam cleared his throat. “What about these other agents?”

“Their names are Nightwatch and Blackout, Cory and Finola O’Fallon from Ireland. They are… les diables.” 

The room fell silent, sensing exactly what these words meant. “Devils.” Mateo moved behind Vincent to get some coffee, dropped about half of the sugar from the dispenser into it, as well as most of the cream, then returned to his spot along the wall near Tala. 

“Both siblings were born with xeroderma pigmentosum, an extreme reaction to UV or light. Both children were cured when exposed to radiante and got their abilities. Finola has night illusion abilities, electricity abilities, and an ability to blind a person with complete blackness for a few moments. Cory… He’s the real monster. His ultimate ability is known as sleepwalking. If he manages to bite you, he can take control of you for a short time and make you do or feel whatever he wishes. Including kill someone.” 

Sabine scoffed and finally turned to face the others, leaning on the wall. 

“He also has an ability he calls mirror image. He can project an illusion of himself and make you think he’s there when he’s not.” Vincent glanced around the room. “His last ability has to do with infiltrating dreams. Now that they’ve found us, it is likely they will attack again.”

“You know this because…?” Jamie wondered.

“I know some of their initial plans and how their teleporters work. They can teleport once, and then again twenty-four hours later, but afterward they have to let it cool down for a little over two weeks.”

Barbara leaned forward. “Let’s say I believe you about all of this—let’s say we all do.” She made a sweeping gesture to the room at large. “If there are doubles of everyone, how come we don’t know about this… Cory and Finola O’Fallon here?”

“It’s a good question,” Vincent said, and again, he leaned forward to brace himself, although this time it took him longer to straighten his posture. “It’s because they are dead.” A pause. “And be glad of it. While the radianite gave them their powers in the other dimension, it killed them here. I checked—they don’t exist.” His head weaved from side to side. “Or rather, they did, but they expired just over twenty years ago.” He swallowed. “There’s more, but I don’t wish to go on at this time. I am very tired after the events of the previous day. May I rest a while?” 

Everyone looked to Liam, who was leaning back in his chair and stroking his chin. At last, he nodded. “Marielle?” She met his gaze, and he eyed her thoughtfully. “Take him up to Room Ten and spend some time with him. Get him settled, give him some food.” That last was to Tala.

Marielle agreed and went to Vincent, then led him down the hall to the elevator. Only then did she realize how exhausted Vincent looked; he was fading by the moment. Once in the elevator, he parted his legs and straightened his back, suggesting a firm attempt to stay upright. The elevator began to climb.

“Vincent…” 

“Yes, Marielle?”

“How did my name get in that book?”

He was silent for a few moments. “You put it there,” he replied. “You told me that if we made it through, that’s how you’d know.”

“You said I’m a profiler with Valorant… but I didn’t come through with the others yesterday,” she said, the realization hitting her. “Because I’m not an agent, right?” She breathed out sadly. “Am I ever going to be an agent?”

“I believe you will be,” he said distantly, sounding half asleep. However, he’d positioned his body in a military stance, and Marielle knew he could stand like that even longer if he was required to. Similar to the way he dealt with torture, if he shut his mind down and applied it to something else, nothing would cause him to collapse for several hours, maybe even as long as a day.

“So, we know each other on the other side.”

“I know all of you,” he replied. “I am—was—good friends with Klara.”

The elevator stopped and dinged open. She led him to Room Ten and took him in, where he thanked her and went to lie on the bed. 

“Do you want to be left alone?” she asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind… stay. But please, sit.” He gestured to the chair in the corner.

She nodded, understanding. Even before she settled herself in the chair, however, she was amazed to see that he had fallen asleep clutching the pillow. She could tell by his soft snoring and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 

She looked him over in his vulnerable, sleeping state. He was handsome, almost angelic. This thought brought her back to the picture he’d painted. It was beautiful, billowing clouds and a perfect angel with bleeding silver wings. How precious his wife must have been to him, how priceless. 

“I can’t give her a face,” he’d said, “but this was how beautiful she was.” Marielle’s heart had sped up a little at these words.

“Parle de moi comme ça, Vincent,” she whispered now, her fingers gently grazing her own mouth as she dreamt of a kiss. Should she try to kiss him? Would he try to kiss her?

She shook her head. He hadn’t even made any specific gestures that suggested he liked her in any way. Sure, there was that whole first meeting and the sexual undertones of their conversation… but it had been more to a purpose than any indication that he actually wanted her.

She knew Austin wanted her—well, her body anyway. But she wanted Vincent, and she wanted him to look at her and love her and show her interest the way he apparently had done with his wife. She wanted love like that. “’Til death do us part.” 

Vincent had stood by his wife and held her hand as she had passed. He had been there with her in the hospital, probably throwing money and every resource he could to healers and doctors, only to be denied the one thing he had desperately wanted: a cure, and more time with the love of his life.

Marielle ached. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes. Does Vincent… like me? She shook her head, feeling like a teenager. 

“Does he like me?” She chuckled quietly to herself, then prayed that he was still asleep and hadn’t heard her. But the question wasn’t that unusual. “Like” was where “love” started, right?

She noted his suit again. He was sleeping in it. It was gorgeous, and she wanted to feel that silk tie on her chest. There was something about the feeling of a suit when it came into contact with her body that made her weak in the knees, especially depending on who was wearing it. She felt her cheeks grow hot and red.

Glad he’s not awake to watch me have this internal battle. But he knows I’m attracted to him, doesn’t he? He must. He is to me too, at least a little. I can see it in how he looks at me, how his eyes try so hard to stay on my face. How he held me earlier. 

She went a bit dizzy; she’d forgotten all about that until now. How he held me earlier, she repeated in her mind, but it was more of a groan.

If she had been more certain of his affection for her, she probably would have gone to him and lain with him, hoping that he’d casually tuck her into his body and kiss her shoulder, the way he’d done in her mind that first night they’d met.

Speak to me, my love. Speak French. She laughed quietly. This was stupid, but for the moment, it made her feel giddy, so she went with it. She needed a break from all of the serious things going on recently. 

Marielle covered her mouth with her hand. She had a crush. When was the last time she’d actually had a crush? It certainly wasn’t that… what was his name? Joe Eastman? from last Sunday night. He’d been cordial, but definitely not her cup of tea romantically. She wanted to take Vincent out on a real date, maybe to her apartment to cook for him. She suddenly didn’t feel like her apartment was clean enough. She could see the two of them sitting on her couch, him with an admiring look in his deep brown eyes as he swirled a glass of wine, leaning his temple on his hand. She imagined him going to the piano in her living room and playing for her.

Marielle hadn’t played the piano in several months now. She’d inherited it when her grandmother had passed away about nineteen years ago. Her parents had also passed just before the accident at Valorant, when she was still an intern. Between her parents’ death and what had happened with Sabine, the entire thing had made her hazy enough to mostly forget the piano. Sometimes, she forgot to close the lid and Felix would walk over the keys in the middle of the night when he saw a bird or another cat outside. It would startle her awake and give her shivers, as though someone long dead had sat down to stroke a few keys and then vanish.

She lifted a hand and fanned herself. Apparently, the AC wasn’t working as well as it should for August. The room felt stuffy and hot. She’d been lost in her thoughts for a few moments… thoughts of her grandmother, of Sabine. Back before her heart had hardened against Marielle, Sabine had cried for hours—no, days—curled up on the floor in front of that piano and clutching a scared, wide-eyed Felix. 

Marielle stood and went to Vincent’s side, noting that his glasses were slowly slipping down his nose. Fearing that he’d break them or hurt himself, she reached over to gently remove them and put them on the nightstand.

The moment she leaned over him and reached for his glasses, however, he snatched her by the wrist and threw her to the mattress. Terror gripped her core. She didn’t even have time to register that the golden pistol had materialized from his tattoos until it was already trained on her forehead. Horrified, she looked up at him as whatever programmed response he’d reacted to melted from his face.

Marielle’s breath heaved in and out. Right… He was a killer. She remained silent, trying to process what had just happened.

“Masin, please?” His voice had deepened and become apologetic. 

She shook her head and dashed for the door, holding back tears. She had barely enough time to register Sasha standing guard just outside. 

“Masin! Masin, please!” Vincent stood and came to the door, leaning out. He exchanged looks with Sasha and stopped.

“Don’t call me that!” she shot over her right shoulder.

Austin was a few feet down the hall, walking toward his room with a black mug of something steaming. He jerked to a stop when he saw her. “You okay?”

She pushed past him, covering her face as she went. Austin glanced at Vincent, giving him a look that said, “What did you do now?” Vincent crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe, glaring him down.  

Austin took a few steps backward and set his coffee down in front of his door, then whirled after Marielle. “Wait, I’m with you,” he growled. 

“For God’s sake, Austin, leave me alone!” Avoiding eye contact with him, she pressed the elevator button several times in a row as though trying to force the car to arrive sooner.

“Hey!” He sounded angry. “I’m supposed to be making sure everyone’s okay up in here while you’re dealing with him, so that definitely means making sure you’re okay right now.” 

Austin followed her through the open doors, which shut behind them softly. He was riding down with her whether she liked it or not. They were silent for a moment. 

“I startled him awake,” she eventually said around Floor Two.

He blew out through closed lips. “And he pointed a gun at you, right?” 

She turned away from him, eyebrows knit together inquisitively. How did he know? “That’s a yes,” he said under his breath. He could just barely see her wiping away a tear from his peripheral vision. “Let’s go talk.”

“I don’t want to. I need to get home and feed my cat. Sasha’s there, he’ll make sure Vincent stays put.”

“Marielle.” Austin turned her to face him. “Let’s go talk.” 

She squinted an eye at him. “Are you ordering me?”

“Yeah.”