He seemed rather upset.

"I could only describe what I observed," Mike said, opening his arms in a gesture of innocence. "You know this isn't my profession. I can't possibly write a detailed report. This kind of job is more suitable for Rhea."

"So you're complaining that I asked you to do this instead of Rhea?" The man's voice was rough and unsettling, his question tinged with unhappiness.

Mike shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm just saying this isn't my profession, and I know little about it. I might make mistakes, or fail to perform a detailed and objective observation. I worry I'd delay the experiment's progress," he replied, striving for objectivity.

"Hmm..." The impatient man considered this seriously. "Rhea is doing another, more important experiment and can't afford mistakes. Besides, we're short-staffed. Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked you."

Mike remained silent.

"I know you're against this," the man continued, climbing onto a stool and then the desk, gaining height over Mike. "You still have…softness, kindness. What's wrong? You couldn't bear to see him suffer?" He stared down at Mike.

"A little bit, I guess," Mike replied flatly, knowing any denial would be futile.

The man laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "A little? You're hypocrites! You only help me, obey my orders, for your son's sake! Human beings are selfish by nature—why pretend otherwise? Besides, the world will be upheaved when we succeed!"

"So, can I see my son?" Mike's eagerness to know his son's well-being superseded any argument.

When his son had first disappeared, Mike had desperately searched worldwide, to no avail. His son seemed to have vanished. Then this man appeared, offering a terrible bargain. Rebellion had only brought his son harm. He couldn't find his son; only this man provided glimpses through video, and occasional conversations when the man was in a good mood. He'd compromised, yielded, working with them despite their immorality.

The man is right. Human beings are selfish. For my son, I'd give up everything. Why should I care what others think?

"Your performance hasn't been good lately," the man stated, his displeasure clear, the threat to his son's well-being implicit. "If I hadn't warned you to prepare, the research institute would have been sealed off by the police. If I hadn't removed his trace, the police dogs would have found Austin. Your safety—"

"Are you doubting me now?" The man interrupted.

"No!" Mike suppressed his emotions, lowering his head. "I only want to see my son and ensure he's alright."

"It's easy to see your son. Do a good job for me, obey my orders!" The man declared. "You did well relocating the laboratory, but I don't want to stay in this dark place. Find me a better location—I need to move!" He loathed the disinfectant smell, and the underground location felt like a sewer. He craved a top-floor view, sunlight, and a position of dominance.

"It's... difficult," Mike admitted, aware of the task's complexity.