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Embedded in the mirror on the dresser was a small camera the size of the thumbnail. The video bounced across the internet and projected onto a set of wall televisions in a military base outside of the Tower City jurisdiction. Damon, Hinotomi, Jerry, and Jerry’s bodyguard, a brick wall of a man with short gray hair named Vic Spencer, all sat in lounge chairs. Except for Vic, he stood as a statue of protection behind Jerry. They watched the video of Kyane breaking down before opening D13. The video then cut to her walking through the small cottage and into the kitchen, talking to D13 the entire time.
“We can’t do this to our baby,” Damon said. He pointed his hand at the giant screen. “She’s absolutely right. She doesn’t want this! She wants to be sneaking out and coming home late because she’s seeing some douchebag with a used 90’s mustang with 160,000 miles on it. Not because she is saving the world!”
Hinotomi gave a pointed cough.
“Right, Kyane wouldn’t do that exactly. But she doesn’t want to be doing this, or at least given a choice.”
“I agree,” Jerry said. His brown military cut hair was shaved to his scalp. He scratched his head with a clean finger from his right hand. “But at this point, we have to just test her and suit’s capabilities. We have to assume that she will be the only person who can use this technology.” He turned to Hinotomi. “Mrs. Yorotis, good work on the video editing for the hostage situation. We were able to only get the wackos on deep web messaging boards to see the truth.”
“We acted fast enough; I hope. Before any saw the truth.” Hinotomi’s voice was cold, disinterested, and close to disdainful toward her boss. She crossed her legs and arms, then watched as her daughter opened the fridge, poured out orange juice, and took out a carton of eggs.