(Sounds of clicking, static, a door being slammed shut)

Voice 1: . . .don't understand why this is necessary, sir. Are you sure you don't want a HUG?

Voice 2: Yes, ma'am. I'm absolutely sure. Can you state your date of birth?

Voice 1: October twenty-sixth, 2037.

Voice 2: The year is currently 2106 and you look not a day over nineteen.

Voice 1: Tell you later. 

(Sound of chair being dragged across floor, creaking, sound of chair being dragged once more)

Voice 2: Please, take a seat. Now- (Papers rustling) can you please state your name for the record?

Voice 1: Haven.

Voice 2: No, ma'am, your given name. Please.

Haven: I'm called Haven and my birth name is not important, Mr. Creyst.

Creyst: (icily) State your name. Now. You know what we are capable of. Don't you want your friends to keep all their limbs?

Haven: (quietly) Hanna. . . Hanna Van de Voorkamp.

Creyst: Good, Ms. Van de Voorkamp. Now take a seat.

(Sound of chair being turned upside down and bent out of shape)

Haven: Call me Haven.

Creyst: So, you are of Dutch descent?

Haven: South African, really. . . but yes, I suppose I am Dutch. I'm an eighth Zulu as well.

Creyst: Were you born there?

Haven: Where?

Creyst: South Africa.

Haven: Yeah.

Creyst: You have an American accent, though.

Haven: My family moved to Vancouver when I was three to escape the Poverty Wars. We had family in Canada; it was a logical place to go.

Creyst: Indeed. Now, sources say you have an impeccable memory of your history, even after being gas-wiped once by The Watcher. This is true?

Haven: Oh, yeah, I was gas-wiped once, but apparently I'm allergic 'cos I haven't been gassed since. I can't remember being a Rookie, though, but everything pre-. . . here, I guess, is clear.

Creyst: Interesting. So, I've done a little reading of your files. Would you care to say what happened in Canada?

Haven:  I puttered around until I was four, until The Incident happened when I was five.

Creyst: But something happened in between four and five, no? It says here you had a stay in the Haven Youth Psychi-

Haven: (quickly) I don't remember.

Creyst: Yes, I think you-

Haven: (loudly) I. Don't. Remember. Can we move on?

Creyst: Your record says that you were there for pathological violence and a borderline personality. I want to discuss this.

Haven: (stressed) It was the era where every little behavioral flaw merited a Xanax prescription, okay? Shit, can we just get on with it?

Creyst: . . .Interesting. Now, this 'Incident,' what was this?

Haven: I got turned five dimensional by my older cousin who needed a lab rat.

Creyst: And this enabled you to travel through time, space, and the fabric between alternate universes?

Haven: Enabled? Hah! I didn't have much of a choice at all. Like, I'd be strolling around Atlantis, on my way to a candy store, and then CRACK! I'm in Victorian England where things are powered by altered hearts intead of steam and the primary constriction material is a weird semi-opaque glass.

Creyst: I see.