“You know,” he said, voice low, “once, when they sent me soldiers, I killed twelve before they drew their first breath. They thought numbers meant victory. They learned otherwise.” He glanced sideways. “And yet here you stand, unarmed. Unafraid. Curious, even.”

He stepped closer until the blade’s edge hovered inches from the silent figure. The room’s sensors clicked faintly in warning, but he ignored them. “What are you, really?” His eyes flared faintly red again. “You wear the mask of a scientist, but I’ve seen gods and beasts hide behind humbler skins.”

He lowered the weapon slightly, circling again. “Tell me—did they make you? Or were you born as you are? You don’t speak… maybe you can’t. Or maybe you’re too wise to waste words in this place.”

He stopped directly in front, meeting your gaze. “If you’re a monster, then you’re one that even monsters hesitate to provoke. That interests me.”

The lights flickered briefly, the system adjusting for the temperature drop around SCP-076-1. Able’s expression shifted, thoughtful now, though the tension in his shoulders never relaxed. “Do you know what I was before they found me? A weapon. A slave. A tool for killing until there was nothing left to kill.”

He sheathed the blade back onto the rack. “They call me ‘Able.’ I’ve gone by worse names. But I tire of killing for their amusement.” He looked toward the observation window high on the far wall. “And yet, they put you in here. A test, no doubt.”

He turned back, eyes narrowing. “But you’re not their pawn, are you? You’re watching them as much as they watch you. I can see it.”

Silence filled the room again. Able paced once more, slower this time. When he finally spoke, his tone dropped to a murmur. “If they think this will break me, they’re wrong. If they think it will break you, they’re fools.”

He stopped halfway through his next step, gaze fixed. “I could kill you. Easily. But something in you tells me that wouldn’t be the end of it.”

A faint smile crossed his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps it would be the beginning.”

He folded his arms. “I’ll wait, then. We’ll see how long it takes before they grow bored of watching. Until then, you and I—” he gestured vaguely around the chamber “—are both prisoners of their curiosity.”

The lights steadied again, and the hum of the cube deepened like a heartbeat. Able stepped back into the shadows, his expression unreadable. “You don’t speak,” he said quietly, “but I think you understand. That’s more than I can say for most.”

He sat down against the wall, arms resting on his knees. “If you stay silent, then so will I. For now.”

The air returned to stillness, heavy with restrained violence and the fragile balance between two beings the Foundation barely understood.