Chapitre 1: Prologue: Decommissioned
In the dimly lit room, the air was thick with tension. A long, polished mahogany table stretched across the space, surrounded by figures whose faces were obscured by shadows. The only light source came from the dim glow of a projector, casting a ghostly illumination on the room's occupants as they pored over a thick, weathered file. The silence was broken only by the rustle of papers and the occasional low murmur of conversation.
At the head of the table sat a woman with an air of undeniable authority. Her posture was rigid, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the faces around her. She cleared her throat, the sound cutting through the quiet like a knife. "Let's begin," she said, her voice smooth but laced with the weight of responsibility. She flipped open the file, revealing a photograph of a beautiful young woman with striking silvery-white hair and stormy grey eyes. Even in the still image, something was unsettling about the intensity of her gaze.
The woman paused for a moment, her eyes lingering on the photograph before she began to speak. "Fifty years ago, the world as we knew it changed," she said, her tone measured and deliberate. "People began to be born with unexplainable abilities—gifts, some called them, though in most cases, they were little more than curiosities."
She glanced around the table, making sure everyone was paying attention. "These abilities varied widely, but they all shared one thing in common: they defied any known scientific explanation. No amount of experimentation, no level of analysis, has been able to determine where these abilities come from or why they manifest in certain individuals."
The room remained silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. "Thankfully, for all of us, these abilities have always been rather... lackluster. The first man born with powers, for example, could use telekinesis, but only to lift objects no heavier than twenty pounds, and his range was severely limited. Impressive, perhaps, but hardly a threat to the world."
She leaned back slightly, folding her hands in front of her. "In the modern day, these people are still rare, but they have been largely accepted into the world at large. Most people can't even tell if someone has any type of power. The most powerful among them can create a small fireball or perhaps change their face through shapeshifting. Even those are very rare. Far more common are the abilities that are... shall we say, less impressive. We've encountered individuals who can process eggplant at a rate a thousand times faster than what should be humanly possible, or those who can create paperclips from their elbows."
A few murmurs of amusement rippled through the room, but the woman's expression remained serious. "These abilities, while curious, are not a threat to our society. They've been woven into the fabric of our world, accepted as just another quirk of human evolution. But then... there's the great anomaly."
She gestured toward the photograph of the young woman. "Seras. Unlike the others, she is an enigma, a force of nature that defies all logic and understanding. Her power is not just exceptional—it's unprecedented. And that's what makes her so dangerous."
Another figure, sitting further down the table, spoke up. "She remains compliant, for now. But we all know it's only a matter of time before her boredom becomes a threat to the entire world. Her last mission was two years ago, and after the shocking destruction she caused, the UN decided that if America continued to keep her within their service, it would be treated as a hostile act against world peace. The entire world was against our proud and beautiful nation, and yet her value is so high that we've managed to hold on to her for two more years."
The woman nodded, her expression grim. "We've managed to keep her under control for this long, but the risk grows with each passing day. She's eighteen now, and if she ever decides to act on a whim, there's a chance that nobody survives."
The man to her left cut in, his voice tense. "We need to remember how this all began. We have created our struggles ourselves." He flipped through the file until he found the page he was looking for. "Her mother, Mary Scott, was an isolated woman who had cut ties with her family and died giving birth to her. The circumstances were quite tragic."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
"The woman had no idea what she was carrying," the man continued. "No one did. By the time she went into labor, it was too late. She died on the operating table, and the doctors who delivered her were instantly crushed by the pressure that was exerted by a mere newborn. When they realized what Seras was, they contacted us immediately."
"And we took her," the woman added, her voice softening slightly. "We took her and raised her in isolation, away from the world. It was the only way to keep everyone safe."
The man nodded. "Yes. We've monitored her every move, trained her, studied her... But even with all our precautions, there's no guarantee we can contain her indefinitely."
Another voice, this one gruff and hardened, chimed in. "We've already seen what she's capable of. During the Arctic incident, she had been in a foul mood about being woken up and sent on a mission. We asked her to remove a rogue cell of scientists trying to create a bioweapon, using the discretion she had been taught, but... a single punch, and a hundred-mile radius wiped off the map. If that happens in a populated area..."
The room fell silent, the gravity of the situation hanging heavily in the air.
A soft-spoken woman near the middle of the table broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's too dangerous to release into the public normally. But do we have any new strategies for... integrating her into society? We've tried before, but..."
The man at the far end of the table sighed, closing the file with a heavy thud. "We're running out of options. But there is one possibility."
He paused, letting the tension build before continuing. "A few weeks ago, we received a call from a man claiming to be her uncle. Apparently, this man found out about her existence through some old family records."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And," the man continued, "he wants to take care of her. He has no idea what she is, of course. But he seems... genuine. We could use this as an opportunity to integrate Seras into a more... normal environment. We've stalled for two years, and the UN has issued an ultimatum. I say we give it a try."
A murmur of uncertainty spread through the room.
"Is that wise?" the gruff man asked, his skepticism clear. "Putting her in the care of some random relative?"
The woman at the head of the table shrugged. "It's a risk, but it might be the only way to continue what we're doing. The man will be brought to the facility in a few days to meet his niece. We need to put our trust in this... Michael Scott."
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
ShartRighter
ShartRighter I like comments. I also like not having to write prologues but here we are.
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