The glass door slid open with a pneumatic hiss, and Ed stepped into the **Analysis Division** for the first time.

It was nothing like the sterile, militarized corridors of R-Division.  

Here, the air thrummed with voices, overlapping data feeds, holographic projections of containment schematics—dozens of scientists and analysts arguing in clusters around floating displays. Equations, chemical formulas, fragments of biological data rotated in midair.

“Welcome to the madhouse,” muttered an intern as Ed passed. “Where logic dies, and curiosity kills faster than bullets.”

He tried to smile. It didn’t help.

In the center of the room stood a reinforced glass wall—beyond it, a massive screen showing the **S-District isolation chamber**. Inside the chamber sat the subject of every conversation: **ARC-027 – “Fire Man.”**

He looked almost human now, pale under the cold fluorescent light, restrained by bands of obsidian alloy. Sensors embedded in the walls monitored his every breath.  

Even so, faint heat shimmered around him, as if the air itself feared to touch his skin.

Ed felt his stomach tighten.  

He’d seen this creature burn through concrete. Now he looked… broken.

A tall man in a white coat gestured at the screen. “Thermal output stabilized at forty degrees Celsius. Cognitive activity is high. Ideal for interrogation.”

“Interrogation?” Ed asked quietly.

“Analysis,” the man corrected. “We don’t interrogate anomalies—we *interpret* them.”

Before Ed could reply, a sharp voice cut through the chaos.  

“Enough theoretical talk. Someone needs to *ask* it something.”

The crowd parted as **Dr. Elina Viver** entered—a young woman with short silver-blonde hair, eyes sharp as glass. She wore her lab coat unbuttoned, her ID swinging loosely at her neck.  

“Elina,” someone said nervously, “we agreed on remote questioning.”

She shrugged. “And I disagree. Remote systems distort response latency. We need direct observation—tone, microexpression, heat resonance. We won’t learn anything watching through a screen.”

“That thing incinerated three agents!” another analyst protested. “If containment fails—”

“Then we’ll learn even more,” she said calmly.

Ed couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  

He stepped closer. “You’re seriously going in there? Alone?”

Elina turned to him, studying him for a moment. “You’re the rookie from Capture, right? The one who saw him change?”

“Yeah,” Ed said. “And I also saw what he *can* do. You shouldn’t be anywhere near that cell.”

Her smile was faint, almost kind. “Caution keeps us alive, Agent Relven. But fear keeps us ignorant. The A.R.C. doesn’t exist to be afraid—we exist to *understand*.”

Before anyone could stop her, she swiped her clearance card and began entering the access code.  

Warning lights blinked along the observation chamber walls. Several analysts scrambled to shut down auxiliary systems, muttering curses.

The intercom flared to life: 

*“Security override—manual entry protocol engaged. Subject interaction commencing.”*

The reinforced door at the far end opened with a low, metallic groan.

Through the glass, Ed watched Elina step inside the chamber. The temperature instantly climbed; waves of heat distorted her silhouette.  

The **Fire Man** lifted his head, eyes faintly glowing beneath the flickering light.

For a moment, neither spoke. The entire division fell silent.

Then Elina’s voice came through the speakers, calm and steady:  

“My name is Dr. Elina Viver. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

The man’s voice was low, like embers whispering in the dark.  

“Talk…? You’re all the same. You lock me away, then ask me *why* I burn.”

Elina took a slow breath. “Maybe I want to know what you see in the flames.”

He laughed—softly, bitterly. “I see everything that was taken from me.”

The monitors spiked—temperature rising, heart rate surging.  

Technicians shouted warnings.

“Pull her out!” someone yelled. “Now!”

But Elina didn’t move.  

Her gaze stayed fixed on the fiery silhouette before her.

Ed slammed his hand against the observation glass. “She’s going to die in there!”

Voss’s voice echoed from behind him, grim and cold. “If she’s lucky.  

If not—she’s about to make history.”

Inside the chamber, the lights began to flicker red.  

And the flames in the Fire Man’s eyes blazed brighter, reaching for something—or someone—that still dared to stand close.