Chapter 7— THE ROLE YOU WILL PLAY
The first thing Victoria noticed was the silence.
Not the normal kind—the kind that settled gently, that allowed thoughts to wander. This silence pressed against her ears, thick and suffocating, like it was waiting for something to break.
She sat upright on the narrow bed, breath shallow, heart pounding.
Her body felt… lighter.
Not strong.
But not weak either.
The dull heaviness that had clung to her limbs since she woke up was gone. Her fingers responded when she flexed them. Her legs no longer trembled under their own weight.
The serum.
Its effects were fading.
Her chest tightened.
Slowly, carefully, she slipped her feet onto the floor.
Cold.
The concrete bit into her skin, sharp and grounding. She stood, half-expecting dizziness, pain—something.
Nothing came.
Her resonance stirred beneath her skin.
Not freely.
But awake.
Electricity danced faintly along her arms, a whisper rather than a storm.
Hope flared dangerously in her chest.
I can fight.
She took one step forward.
Then another.
The room was small, illuminated by soft white light embedded in the ceiling. No doors—just a single metal panel flush against the far wall.
A containment room.
A cage pretending to be a bedroom.
Her jaw tightened.
"I know you're listening," she said aloud, voice hoarse but steady.
Silence answered.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
She raised her hand.
Focused.
Pulled.
Nothing happened.
No lightning.
No surge
Just a weak flicker that fizzled out before it could form.
Her breath hitched.
"No," she whispered. "No—"
She tried again.
Pushed harder.
Pain bloomed behind her eyes, sharp and sudden, like needles pressing into her skull.
She gasped and staggered back, gripping the edge of the bed.
Her resonance recoiled.
Still blocked.
Not suppressed.
Restricted.
"Impatience doesn't suit you."
Victoria spun around.
X stood in the doorway that hadn't been there a second ago.
Mask on.
Hands clasped loosely behind his back.
Watching her like she was an experiment rather than a person.
"You're awake earlier than expected," he continued. "That's… encouraging."
Her fear hardened into fury.
"You lied," she snapped. "You said the serum was temporary."
"It was."
"Then why can't I use my power?"
X tilted his head slightly.
"Because I never said I removed the restraints."
Her nails dug into her palms.
"What restraints?"
He stepped into the room.
The door slid shut behind him without a sound.
The air changed instantly.
He didn't need to touch her.
Didn't need to raise his voice.
His presence alone made her chest feel tight, like the space around him bent inward.
"Your resonance," X said calmly, "is reactive. Emotional. Powerful—but undisciplined."
He stopped a few steps away.
"You rely on instinct. That makes you dangerous… and predictable."
She glared at him. "I don't need lessons from a murderer."
"No," he agreed. "You need them from someone who survived."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
He raised a hand—not threatening, not commanding. Just deliberate.
"The serum suppressed your output," he said. "The restraints limit your access."
"Why?
"Because if I removed them now," he replied evenly, "you would attack me. And you would die."
Her heart raced.
"You don't know that."
"I do."
Something in his tone made her blood run cold.
"You don't hate me enough yet," he continued. "You hate what I did. What I represent. But not me."
She scoffed. "What's the difference?"
He leaned closer.
"You're still thinking like a victim."
Her breath caught.
"I am a victim."
"For now."
The words settled heavily between them.
He turned away, walking slowly to the far wall.
"Sit," he said.
"No."
He didn't turn back.
The lights dimmed slightly.
Not threatening.
Just… heavier.
Her head throbbed.
Her knees weakened.
Victoria gritted her teeth, forcing herself upright.
"I said no."
X finally faced her.
And for the first time, she felt it clearly—
Pressure.
Not physical.
Not mental.
Resonant.
Her own power reacted instinctively, flaring weakly, then curling inward like a frightened animal.
Her chest tightened.
The room felt smaller.
Her vision blurred.
"Sit," X repeated softly.
She hated herself for it.
But she sat.
The pressure lifted instantly.
She sucked in a sharp breath, heart racing, humiliation burning hotter than fear.
X nodded, as if confirming a hypothesis.
"Good," he said. "You're learning already."
He pulled a chair from the wall and sat across from her.
Not looming.
Not threatening.
Too calm.
Too controlled.
That scared her more than shouting ever could.
"You want to know why you're here," he said.
She laughed bitterly. "You killed my family and kidnapped me. I think I've figured that part out."
He didn't react.
"You're here because you matter," he said.
Her laugh died.
"Don't insult me."
"I'm not."
He folded his hands.
"The organization I came from studied resonance users as resources," X continued. "Weapons. Batteries. Assets."
He paused.
"The government does the same. They just use prettier words. They will look for me, not so as to protect the peace of the city, but to finish what the organization started "
Her stomach twisted.
"You're different."
"I don't see people as tools."
"Then what am I to you?" she shot back.
He met her gaze.
"A mirror."
Her breath caught.
"You have power," he said. "Raw. Unfiltered. Capable of tearing cities apart."
"That doesn't mean anything," she snapped. "Power doesn't make you right."
"No," X agreed. "Purpose does."
She shook her head. "You're insane."
He smiled faintly beneath the mask.
"Perhaps."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But insanity built the world you live in."
Silence stretched.
"You will be my accomplice," he said at last.
The word hit her like a slap.
"I won't help you," she said immediately. "I'll die first."
"I know."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Then why—"
"Because you won't die," X interrupted. "And you won't leave."
He stood.
Walked past her.
Circled slowly, like a thought taking shape.
"You will stand beside me," he continued. "Not because I force you. Not because you fear me."
She turned to keep him in sight.
"But because you will understand."
She swallowed hard.
"Understand what?"
"The lie."
He stopped behind her.
"The world tells you that chaos is evil," X said quietly. "That order is good. That obedience keeps you safe.
His voice lowered.
"But order killed my childhood."
Her heart pounded.
"Order watched me disappear," he continued. "Order turned away."
She stood abruptly, spinning to face him.
"Then why become worse?" she demanded. "Why become the thing you hate?"
His head tilted.
"I'm not becoming it."
The room darkened slightly.
"I'm exposing it."
A shiver ran down her spine.
"You will help me do that," he said.
"No," she whispered.
"Yes."
She shook her head violently. "You can't make me."
"I don't need to."
He gestured toward her chest.
"Your resonance responds to truth," he said. "Not comfort."
She clenched her fists.
"What truth?"
"That the system that failed me… failed you too."
Her breath hitched.
"No," she said again, weaker now.
"You lived quietly," X continued. "Obediently. Believing that if you followed the rules, nothing would touch you."
Images flashed in her mind.
Her home.
Her parents laughing.
Victor teasing her.
Safety.
And then—
Blood.
Screams.
Loss.
"Tell me," X said softly, "did obedience save them?"
Tears burned her eyes.
She hated him.
Hated that he was right.
Hours passed.
Or minutes.
Time lost meaning in the room.
X spoke.
Not constantly.
Not forcefully.
He explained pieces.
Fragments.
Enough to unsettle her.
Enough to make her think.
"You won't fight on the front lines," he said at one point. "Not yet."
"Then what am I?" she asked bitterly.
"A signal," he replied.
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Hope," he said. "Fear. Perspective."
He walked to the wall, activating a projection.
Images appeared.
Cities.
Protests.
Government buildings.
Resonance suppression units.
"You will stand beside me," he continued. "Not masked. Not hidden."
Her stomach dropped.
"You want them to see me."
"Yes."
"As a criminal?"
"As proof."
She stared at the images.
"You're insane."
He nodded once.
"History agrees with you."
Silence followed.
"Why not just kill me?" she asked quietly. "It would be easier."
X turned back to her.
"Because," he said, "you're not meant to be broken."
His voice softened.
"You're meant to choose."
Her chest ached.
She looked down at her trembling hands.
Somewhere deep inside—
Her resonance stirred.
Not violently.
Not angrily.
Curiously.
And that terrified her more than anything else.