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Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane. It didn't have an imposing metal door or Gothic architecture. The reception area was very hospital-like, without the crowds waiting for a doctor. Sven wasn't the only visitor: family, colleagues, and friends were the standard expected in a hospital. The patients/inmates were prisoners, but they were prisoners in treatment—at least that's what the newspapers said. Before beginning his investigation, Sven heard someone at Ravencroft report abuse and corruption. There was a documentary that Sven watched briefly before giving up on acquiring knowledge and playing Destiny online.
"I probably should have done more research," Sven thought in retrospect.
He signed in with a fake name and pretended to be a distant cousin. Then he entered the monitored visiting area. The cameras were off, which Sven found strange. On his way to his visiting table, he saw a mother and daughter. They shared similar facial features and the same blond hair.
"Dr. Kafka told me he found a picture of him in your room, Felicia. They brought you here to help you get better," the woman said.
"I was brought here because I'm an inconvenience to you, Mother. Why settle for ordinary when I can have something amazing?" said the little girl, Felicia.
"Where did you hide that photo?" her mother asked.
Sven listened to the first part, then blushed and blocked out the rest of the private conversation. He was grateful that they brought the man he would be visiting later. The man was in his forties, with brown hair and a pleasant smile. Sven tried to imitate him, standing up and offering his hand. The man gripped it tightly despite his friendly demeanor.
"Steven Grant, nice to meet you," he said.
"Sorry, I was looking for Marc Spector," Sven said.
"Ah, Marc Spector, that's a shame," the man called 'Steven' shook his head.
"I'm a little confused, I'm Sven Reilly, you knew my dad Slade ."
" Slade , Slade , I knew a Wade once, not a Reilly, but a Wilson, nice guy. Well, I can't say the name Slade Reilly rings a bell. You did some research on me before coming to see me, right?" Steven asked.
Sven reached into his pocket for the notebook and reread the small notes.
Marc Spector, Ravencroft , Egypt case, Khonshu reference , important!
"I knew you were here, and I know you were a Marine before you became a mercenary," Sven said.
"No, that was Marc Spector," Steven said.
"Aren't you Marc Spector?" Sven asked.
"It's very complicated, what do you know about dissociative identity disorder?"
"I uh... saw the movie Split," Sven lowered his head slightly.
"I loved that movie, especially the twist at the end. I'm looking forward to the sequel. It's something I suffer from, sometimes known as split personality disorder or multiple personality disorder. Doctors tell me it disrupts my memory and my ability to recall events," Steven explained.
"Because they essentially happen to a different person?" Sven asked.
"Exactly, I remember the penthouse parties, the life of a millionaire. However, Marc Spector's life was that of a soldier and a mercenary," Steven said.
"Have you ever done anything in Egypt?"
Steven frowned for a moment, stepping away from Sven.
"Egypt, I know Marc almost froze to death out there," he shook his head, running his nails through his stubble.
"In a desert?"
At night, the temperature can be extremely cold, almost below zero, but Marc obviously survived because I'm here. I have no idea what happened out there. You'll have to ask him, tomorrow maybe. "Are you around tomorrow?" Steven asked.
Sven nodded and smiled as he stood up.
"Sorry to bother you," he said.
As he left, Sven searched his pockets for coins. There was a pay phone near the hospital, probably used by patients after discharge. He put some coins in, checked his phonebook again, found a number, and dialed it. He waited a few minutes, waited and waited, tapping his foot impatiently.
You've reached the Xavier Institute for Gifted People. We apologize for not being able to take your call. Please leave your name and contact information after the beep.
Beep!
Sven hung up the phone, put the notebook in his pocket, and began searching through the phone book. There was a Charles Xavier in Westchester, who matched the name on the book. Memorization wasn't his strong suit; he probably took after his father in that regard. However, he remembered certain people's names. Charles Xavier, Tony Stark (easy to remember because of his fame), and Reed Richards were all highlighted. He checked the phone book again, found the number for a Reed Richards, spread out some coins, and dialed the number. Still, he faced the same problem as before: a long wait for nothing.
Thank you for calling Baxter Laboratories. We apologize, but foundation staff are participating in an experiment abroad. If you still need to contact us, please use my alternate contact number...
He quickly took out his pen and wrote down the number the answering machine told him. He hung up, put some coins in, and dialed the new number. The wait was a little shorter this time, and it really paid off.
"This is Reed Richards, how can I help?" he said in the same polite voice as before.
Although Sven couldn't see Richards, he had the feeling he was a well-educated man. He had a tone of voice that betrayed a good education. His accent wasn't coarse, his grammar was good, but he spoke as if each answer had been carefully thought out.
"Mr. Richards, my name is Sven Reilly, I hope I'm not interrupting," Sven began the small talk, the ice hadn't been broken so he didn't want to rush into the conversation.
On the other hand, I didn't want to waste his time either. The struggle between hurrying and delaying the conversation made Sven seem nervous and restless.
"You haven't interrupted anything, young man. How may I help you?" Richards asked again, his voice still full of patience.
"My father was a WDRA agent. I've been following his career, and your name was one of those mentioned. I was curious to know when he met you and what exactly happened during that time. Was he a security consultant on any of your projects?" Sven asked, waiting, but still tapping his foot impatiently while Reed thought of an answer.
"Reilly, Reilly," he repeated the name a few times, testing it and probing his brain for a memory.
" Slade Reilly," Sven said.
"I'm sorry, Sven, but I can't say I knew your father. Until five years ago, he was a university professor and researcher in theoretical sciences; he wasn't involved in WDRA projects," Reed explained.
Sven rubbed his hair as he thought about what he'd learned. He wondered why Richards's name was in the book, since his father hadn't even met him.
"Thank you, Mr. Richards, sorry to bother you," he said.
"Okay, I hope you have more success. Those global disaster response agents are true heroes. Your dad must have been a great guy," Reed said.
He didn't seem condescending, he was an honest man, and that made Sven smile.
"Good luck with your project, Mr. Richards."
"Thanks Sven," they both hang up.
Although it only generated more questions, the pleasant conversation cheered Sven. Even though it had been over the phone, it hadn't been fraught with the same tension and awkwardness as his interview with Conners. The professor was hiding something, but unless the scientist was a real liar, he wasn't hiding anything.
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Hello everyone, what did you think of the chapter? Please let me know in the comments. If you want to download the full book, it's available on my KO-FI page. The link is here. 👉
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