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or this new commission could believe I had anything to do with the attack, although if what Detective Dzobiak told me was true, I wasn’t sure this guy needed any concrete evidence in order to lock me away.
    “Every block of The Fringe is monitored by security cams,” I explained, motioning towards his com. “Pull up the footage and you’ll see exactly what happened this morning.”
    “I’d like that, Matthew. But there’s one little problem.” Wells displayed what was supposed to have been the security feeds. Video windows blinked open, hovering above the table, but they showed nothing but static. “Every camera for miles around the crime scene had been disabled the night before, along with the CDUs. Convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
    I could feel the heat rising in my face, perspiration gathering on my brow and upper lip. “What about satellite imaging? Or bystanders who were there recording the fight? I didn’t do anything – the video will prove that.”
    “We’re waiting on confirmation from Langley,” he said gruffly. “If a satellite was monitoring the area we’ll review it, but at this point it looks like a long shot. And no one has come forward with personal recordings, so that’s probably a dead end, too.” He brought up photos of the crime scene, taken just moments ago; the decimated city block littered with bodies and debris; cars overturned and lamp posts toppled. “So far we have a dead mystery woman, three dead cops, several million dollars in property damage…and you , standing at a crime scene wearing battle armor.”
    “I didn’t kill that woman,” I shouted, leaning forward on my elbows. “ Or the cops in the helicopter. And if you’re concerned about property damage I’ll pay for it right now . Call the mayor. I’ll cut her a check for triple the cost.”
    “This is about more than just money,” he shouted, pounding his bloated fist into the table’s metal surface. “I’m not going to allow a terrorist attack to go unpunished on my watch.”
    I shook my head, blurting out a caustic laugh. “I’m a terrorist , now? That’s interesting, because I thought I was the guy who spent billions of dollars to repair The Fringe after the last attack. Doesn’t that strike you as the exact opposite of what an actual terrorist would do?”
    Wells coughed again and grumbled something under his breath. He poked a pudgy digit into his com, triggering photos to cascade through the air; photos dating back to the original Arena Mode during the summer of 2041. “I’ve reviewed your career, Matthew. Colorful, to say the least. Several confirmed kills, including Cameron Frost…”
    “That was completely sanctioned. I had every right to defend myself.”
    “ Then, ” he continued, “there was the incident in Toronto.” He pulled footage of a man sailing out the window of the CN Tower in a whirlwind of water and shattered glass. It was an overhead view, likely captured by a satellite. “You hired a superhuman to do your dirty work on this particular occasion, leaving a waiter dead.”
    “He tried to kill me!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “I’d just been stabbed. My bodyguard jumped in before he could slice me into fish sticks.”
    “Mmm.” With another swipe he displayed a crime scene photo from Fortress 23 where Valentina – the bodyguard in question – lay motionless, face down in a crimson pool. “And then after you no longer had use for this superhuman assassin, you electrocuted her to death on your property in Alberta. Convenient, since the land had recently been declared a sovereign nation. No laws, so you couldn’t be convicted of any crimes.”
    “You’re twisting the facts, here.”
    “Am I?” He poked his com twice more and the holographic slideshow disappeared. “You have a history of violence, and a history of using superhumans to kill on your behalf.”
    “I have a history of protecting the Fringe. I’ve spent the better part of this year