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Mara Virelle slumped against the cold permalloy wall of Sublevel-Ω's observation cell, her gauntlet flickering uselessly, a bitter jab at her own shortcomings. The hum of anti-anomaly runes scraped against her hyper-empathy, soaking up the lingering fear of the team that had just left. The Beta-tier techs, the Omega-tier enforcer with her barked orders—they'd fled, leaving her alone with *him*. N-O1. The anomaly they couldn't classify, couldn't crack, couldn't even confirm was human. And they expected *her* to face him? Her, with a power that was useless here?
*Not happening,* she thought, her mind a storm of defiance and dread. *I'm a rookie, barely a year past my Gamma-tier awakening. My time manipulation's dead in this cell—tried it, felt the threads snap like burned-out fuses. I can't shift twelve hours back or forward, not with him warping reality. They've got Alphas, Omegas, people who aren't scarred from lab tables. Why me? I'm done being their tool.*
She glared at the sealed door, her pulse hammering. Memories of experiments surged—needles at twelve, her brain mapped while she screamed, the Organization dissecting her ability to twist time. Now they wanted her to dissect *him*? She opened her mouth to refuse, but the door hissed open. Dr. Renis stepped in, his face a mask of cold authority, flanked by a wiry Beta-tier agent with a scarred cheek.
"Agent Virelle," Renis said, his voice sharp enough to slice her thoughts, "you're stalling. We can't afford that."
"I'm not stalling," Mara snapped, venom lacing her words. "I'm *refusing*. I'm not suited for this, Renis. I'm a rookie, my time manipulation doesn't work here—tried it, got nothing but static. Send an Omega. Someone who's not a lab rat gone wrong."
Renis's eyes narrowed, but the Beta agent stepped forward, her tone firm. "Your power's not why you're here, Virelle. We know your time manipulation won't work—Sublevel-Ω's rigged to block it. But your sharp mind, your logical reasoning, your inhuman calculations under pressure? Those are why we picked you. You disarmed a Lambda anomaly mid-awakening without flinching. You're the best we've got."
Renis leaned closer, his voice a dangerous whisper. "And don't lie to us, Mara. We know you can shift twelve hours into the past or future. Try to play us, and you'll end up in the same walls as N-O1. Understood?"
Mara's jaw clenched, her tongue clicking in a sharp *tsk*. *Bastards. Threatening me like I'm the anomaly.* Her hyper-empathy caught their fear—Renis's, the agent's, the whole Organization's—pressing against her like a cold blade. They weren't lying. They were terrified of N-O1, and they were betting on her to crack him. Or break trying.
"Fine," she muttered, turning away. "But when this blows up, it's on you." The door hissed shut, leaving her alone. Well, not alone. Her gaze flicked to the monitor, its grainy feed showing N-O1 in his cell, separated by a soundproof, rune-etched barrier. He sat cross-legged, too still, his silhouette sharp, like a tear in the world. His eyes—dark voids that drank the light—locked onto the monitor. Onto *her*.
A soft smile curved his lips, faint but smug, like he'd heard her entire argument.
*Damn him.* Her inner monologue turned raw. *Smirking like he knows my whole damn life. What do I do with you, you monster? Talk to you like a person? Curse you out like a threat? I'm caged here because of you, and I don't even know what you are.* Her experiments flashed through her mind—years of being prodded, her time manipulation dissected. Now she was dissecting *him*, or trying to. *Some cosmic joke.*
Her soul-impression mapping stirred, reaching for his cell. It caught static, a void where a soul should be. No, not a void—something *else*, like a shadow that swallowed thought. Her skin prickled, her instincts screaming that *she* was being watched, not him. *He's the anomaly, not me,* she thought, frustration boiling. *Why do I feel like the one on display?*
"Oi, you little bastard," she snapped, glaring at the monitor. "Stop staring like I'm some zoo animal!"
N-O1's smile didn't fade. His gaze intensified, those dark eyes glinting with amusement, as if her outburst was a performance he savored. Her cheeks burned, anger spiking. "What, you think you're all mighty and high, huh? Sitting there like some god, but you can't even talk, can you?"
His head tilted, a slow, playful bob, and that smug smile widened. Her mind prickled, a cold whisper brushing her thoughts. *I can talk.* Not a sound, but a presence, sharp and clear, like a blade in her skull. His voice, if it was a voice, carried a mocking lilt.
The sound of his words lingered, fading slowly, but her ears kept buzzing, as if the voice refused to leave. A headache bloomed, sharp and pulsing, and a tingling presence crawled through her consciousness, like fingers brushing her thoughts. Mara froze, her instincts flaring—not because N-O1 had done anything new, but because of *her*. *Wait, why am I talking to him like that?* she thought, panic rising. *This isn't me. I'm supposed to be calm, collected, the Mara who calculates under pressure, who strategizes through chaos. I should be observing him, not yelling at an anomaly I know nothing about!*
Realization hit her like a truck. *Did he do this?* Her mind raced, piecing it together. *He suppressed my fear, my caution, made me act out of character. He's mocking me—mocking my "inhuman calculation," my "strategic choice." They picked me for this, and he's proving I can't even do what I'm good at. He wants me to understand him, to communicate, but on his terms.* She stared at N-O1, who sat unchanged, that smug smile softening, as if nothing happening mattered to him. As if none of this was his fault.
*I want to punch that smug face,* she thought, her fists clenching. *Just once—no, not once, I want to—wait, what am I thinking? He's in my head again, isn't he?* Her anger twisted into dread. *He can see through walls, read my thoughts, hear my conversations. Right now, he's probably—* Her eyes widened, her gaze flicking to his on the monitor. That smirk, that glint of interest, like her deduction amused him. *Damn it, I'm right. He can read me, and everyone else probably knows it. That's why they left so fast. I can't hide anything—my feelings, my thoughts, nothing.*
Goosebumps prickled her skin. *It has to have a range, right? It can't be infinite, can it?* The thought made her stomach lurch. *He can see through walls. Through me. Wait—if he can see through walls, can he see through my clothes?* Her face flushed, panic spiking. *No, he wouldn't, right? Right?!*
"I won't do this job anymore!" she screamed, bolting for the door, her voice echoing off the permalloy. The runes flickered as she yanked the panel open, fleeing the cell, leaving N-O1 alone. On the monitor, his smug smile lingered, unchanged, as if he'd expected it all along.
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