CHAPTER — THE WORLD LISTENS
Silence became her enemy.
Not X.
Not the walls.
Not even the memories clawing at the back of her mind.
Silence.
It pressed against her ears until she could hear her own breathing too clearly, until every inhale felt stolen and every exhale felt wasted.
Victoria sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, fingers locked together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. The room hadn't changed. White walls. Seamless floor. No windows. No clock.
No way to measure how long she had been alone.
X had left without warning.
No threats.
No commands.
Just a final look — unreadable through the gas mask — before the door slid shut and sealed her inside again.
At first, she'd paced.
Then she'd shouted.
Then she'd cried.
Now, she just sat.
Her resonance stirred faintly beneath her skin, like something half-asleep, aware but uncertain. Every time she tried to reach for it, it hesitated. Not blocked — watching.
Judging.
Am I still me…?
Her thoughts drifted, unwanted.
Victor's face flashed in her mind.
Not the way he looked at the end.
Earlier.
Laughing. Teasing her. Standing too close just to annoy her.
Her throat tightened.
"I should've protected you," she whispered.
The words echoed uselessly.
She stood suddenly, anger flaring.
"No," she said aloud. "No. This isn't my fault."
But the room didn't answer.
She walked to the wall and pressed her palm against it. Cold. Smooth. Unyielding.
"You think you're right," she muttered, imagining X standing there. "You think pain makes you special."
Her reflection stared back at her faintly in the polished surface — red eyes, hollow cheeks, someone older than she remembered being.
"But you're wrong," she said quietly. "You're just afraid to be alone."
The words surprised her.
They felt… true.
Her resonance pulsed once, softly.
She froze.
Did it agree?
Before she could think further, the lights dimmed.
Not off.
Dimmed.
A low hum vibrated through the floor.
Her heart skipped.
"No…" she whispered.
The wall in front of her flickered — then bloomed into a massive screen.
Live footage.
A city square.
Crowded.
People laughing. Talking. Walking.
Normal.
Too normal.
Victoria stepped back, dread crawling up her spine.
A figure stepped into view.
Gas mask. Dark coat.
X.
Her breath caught.
* * *
The broadcast hijacked everything.
How he was hijacking everything, no one knew.
Phones.
Billboards.
Televisions.
Emergency channels.
Across the nation, screens flickered — then locked.
A warning tone blared once.
Then silence.
Then him.
X stood in the center of the square, perfectly still. People around him slowed, confused, phones rising instinctively.
"Is this a stunt?" someone laughed nervously.
X raised one hand.
The laughter died.
Not because he spoke.
Because everyone suddenly felt it.
Pressure.
A wrongness in the air.
"Citizens," X said calmly, voice carried through every speaker at once. "I won't repeat myself, so listen carefully."
Security forces moved at the edges of the square.
Too slow.
A man in uniform lifted his weapon.
X didn't look at him.
The man froze.
Not stiffened.
Emptied.
He collapsed, blood spilling from his nose and mouth as his body hit the ground like a discarded object.
Screams erupted.
People ran.
X finally turned his head.
"Order," he said.
The pressure increased.
Those who tried to flee dropped to their knees, gasping, clutching their chests.
Victoria watched in horror from the prison disguised as a room that X kept her.
"Oh God…" she whispered.
X walked forward slowly.
"I am not your enemy," he continued. "I am your consequence."
Behind him, bodies lay still.
Not torn apart.
Not mutilated.
Just… drained.
Gone.
"I was created by systems you defend," X said. "Hidden beneath your cities. Fed by your taxes. Justified by your silence."
Military drones appeared overhead. The military had finally traced him.
X looked up.
Smiled.
He turned the blood around into weapons and attacked the drones.
Every drone dropped from the sky at once.
The crowd broke.
"This is a demonstration," X said evenly. "Not a massacre."
He stopped at the center of the square.
"You will not hunt me," he continued. "You will not lie about me. You will not pretend this didn't happen."
He leaned closer to the camera.
"My demands are simple."
Victoria's hands trembled where she was kept, watching all these.
"Dismantle every underground resonance facility," X said.
"Release every detained subject. Show your citizens the monsters you've created just for your pleasure."
"Withdraw all covert operatives from my search."
His eyes gleamed behind the mask.
"And send your best tracker."
A pause.
"I want him to see what you've done."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
X straightened.
"You have a week"
The pressure vanished.
People collapsed, sobbing, screaming, clutching each other.
X turned away.
The screen went black
*
The room was silent again.
Victoria sank to her knees.
"That's what you meant," she whispered. "A signal."
The door slid open.
X stepped inside.
"You felt it," he said calmly.
She looked up at him, tears streaming, rage and fear tangled together.
"You're turning the world into a graveyard."
"No," he replied. "I'm making it honest."
He looked down at her.
"And now," he said, "you decide what you are."
The door closed behind him.
The screen stayed dark.
But the world was listening now.
Just as he wanted.
* * *
The room was silent.
Not the calm kind.
Not the respectful kind.
The kind where everyone is waiting for something to explode.
Dozens of screens lined the circular chamber, each replaying the same image on a loop: a city square, bodies on the ground, a man in a gas mask speaking like a judge who had already passed sentence.
At the center of the room, a long steel table stretched beneath harsh white lights. Men and women in tailored suits sat rigidly, fingers steepled, jaws tight. Military officials stood along the walls, arms crossed, weapons holstered but very much present.
No one spoke.
Then a woman finally broke the silence.
"He hijacked every major broadcast channel," she said, voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed. "Satellite feeds, emergency frequencies, civilian networks. We didn't even see it happen."
A general slammed his palm on the table.
"That's impossible. Those systems are isolated."
"They were," another official replied quietly. "Until they weren't."
At the far end of the room, Dave stood with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the frozen image of X mid-sentence.
I want him to see what you've done.
The words echoed in his head like a challenge.
"They're panicking," someone muttered. "Cities are locking down. Airports are grounded. Hospitals are overwhelmed."
"And the deaths?" the President asked, voice low.
A pause.
"Confirmed casualties: thirty-seven," an aide said. "No external injuries. Every victim… drained."
The word felt wrong in the room.
Drained.
The President turned slowly to Dave.
"He mentioned a tracker," she said. "Specifically."
Dave exhaled through his nose.
"He's baiting us," he said. "He wants me close."
"And are you sure you can lead us close to him without being his victim" the general asked sharply.
Dave didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer to the screen.
The gas mask.
The posture.
The stillness.
Most people didn't understand his resonance. They thought of it as location. Coordinates. A supernatural GPS.
That was the surface.
What Bola really experienced was imprint.
Places remembered people.
Walls absorbed fear.
Floors kept secrets.
And that man—
"He's already moved,again. He's dangerous" Dave said finally. "But yes. I can get us close enough"
Relief rippled through the room.
But Dave's expression didn't soften.
"There's something else," he added.
The room stilled again.
"When I scanned the organization," Dave continued, "I saw him clearly. But I also saw… interference."
"Interference?" the President asked.
"Yes. Gaps. Distortions. Like someone was cleaning up behind him."
A murmur spread.
"You're saying he has help?" the general demanded.
"I'm saying," Dave replied carefully, "that someone with clearance is sabotaging our trail. Not directly. Subtly. Delays. Misdirection. Locked doors opening when they shouldn't."
The President's jaw tightened.
"So not just a monster," she said. "But a ghost in our own system."
Dave nodded once.
"A ghost with a strong resonance. And he knows it."
* * *
X didn't rush her.
That was the worst part.
Victoria sat on the floor where she had collapsed few seconds ago, back against the wall, knees drawn to her chest. The serum had worn off hours ago — she could feel it. Her body was lighter now. Her mind clearer.
Her resonance stirred more freely, lightning flickering faintly beneath her skin.
But control?
No.
Every time she tried to shape it, the energy surged wild, unfocused. Dangerous. Like trying to grab lightning barehanded.
X knew.
He always knew.
He stood across the room now, arms folded, watching her with infuriating patience.
"You could try again," he said calmly. "You won't win. Not yet."
Her fingers curled into fists.
"I'll kill you," she whispered.
X tilted his head.
"Eventually?" he asked. "Maybe."
He stepped closer.
"But not today."
She spat at his feet.
He didn't react.
"Why am I still alive?" she demanded. "If I'm just a tool, why not break me completely?"
X crouched so they were eye level.
"Because broken things are loud," he said. "And I need you quiet."
Her breath hitched.
"You think I want this?" she snapped.
"No," he replied. "I think you'll survive it."
He stood and moved toward a wall panel. With a touch of his some buttons, the room expanded — panels sliding apart to reveal a wider living space. A table. A couch. A window this time — narrow, reinforced, but real.
A city stretched beyond it.
Normal.
Alive.
"You'll eat," X said. "You'll sleep. You'll watch."
"Watch what?" she asked bitterly.
He turned to her.
"The world learning to be afraid again."
The screen lit up.
News footage. Riots. Soldiers on streets. People screaming questions into cameras that couldn't answer them. The replay of X' "demonstration" some minutes ago
Victoria hugged herself.
"This is wrong," she whispered. "You're killing innocent people."
X didn't deny it.
"Innocent is a story we tell children," he said. "Power decides guilt."
She looked at him then — really looked.
"Is that what they told you?" she asked quietly. "Before they took you?"
Something flickered.
Gone in a heartbeat.
"They told me I was necessary," X replied. "Just like you are."
Her chest tightened.
"And if I refuse?"
X stepped closer.
His voice dropped.
"Then I stop pretending."
He reached out — not to touch her — but to gesture at the screen.
"You saw what I did today without you," he said. "Imagine what I can do with you."
Her resonance pulsed violently.
Fear.
Rage.
A twisted, unwanted curiosity.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
X smiled beneath the mask.
"For now?" he said. "Stand beside me."
She swallowed.
"And later?"
"Later," X said softly, "you'll help me choose who deserves to live."
Bola stood alone in the darkened scan chamber, hands braced against the table.
The city map hovered before him, glowing faintly.
A single point pulsed.
Then moved.
Then stopped.
He smiled grimly.
"Found you," he murmured.
But even as he spoke, a warning crawled up his spine.
Because for the first time since activating his resonance…
It felt like something was looking back. X was not alone.