(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.