The room. The ceiling. The smooth walls that curved slightly inward like you were inside a sealed box. No windows. No visible door. Just a thin mattress on the floor, a folded gray blanket, and cameras tucked into every upper corner small black lenses that followed even the slightest movement.

It was a facility. A massive one. Four floors deep beneath the surface. The bottom floor? That was where the “failures” stayed. Kids. Adults. People who never developed powers. The ones considered useless. No one visited them unless it was to relocate them. And relocation usually meant they were never seen again. The second floor was for diagnosis. New captures. Testing chambers. Bloodwork. Power evaluations. That was where they decided your worth. The third floor held the unstable ones experiments with abilities but no control. Powers that flared wildly. Explosions. Misfires. Exhaustion. Those rooms were reinforced twice as much.

And the fourth floor that was where the favorites stayed. The controlled. The dangerous. The elite. They belonged to Francisco. The boss of this entire underground operation. If he liked you, you were trained. Refined. Studied closely. Twisted slowly until your loyalty bent toward him. If he didn’t you disappeared. A faint beep echoed in your room. The keypad on the wall turned green. You hadn’t even touched it. With a low mechanical hiss, a hidden panel slid open seamlessly from the wall itself. It blended so perfectly into the white surface you never would’ve guessed it was there.

Footsteps. A tall man entered first. Black suit tailored perfectly to his frame. Silver watch glinting under the sterile lights. Dark hair slicked back neatly. Behind him stood two guards. They held strange weapons sleek, metallic, curved oddly near the barrel. On the side of each gun was a rotating dial labeled from “Blast” to “Max.” The indicator currently rested somewhere in the middle. A scientist followed close behind, clutching a transparent holographic tablet glowing faint blue.

The man in the suit didn’t look at you immediately. Instead, he held out his hand. The scientist hesitated for half a second before placing the glass tablet into it. He scanned it quickly seeing a blank file about you, your name, age, your powers, how many people you killed. Then a soft, amused laugh left his lips. Not warm. Not kind. “Well,” he said smoothly, finally lifting his gaze to you.

His eyes were dark. Piercing. The kind that studied people like objects. “Interesting.” He stepped closer. The guards adjusted their grip on their weapons but remained silent. Francisco tilted his head slightly as if examining something fragile behind glass. “You don’t know where you are,” he continued calmly. “That’s good. Fear is easier to mold when it’s fresh.” He tapped the hologram screen lightly, and new information flickered to life scans of your brain patterns. Energy readings. Spikes.

“You see, everyone here has potential,” he said softly, holding his hand out again, which the scientist quickly gave him a black collar taking back the hologram tablet. “Some more than others.” He crouched slightly so his gaze aligned directly with yours analyzing, before he cleared his throat “You’re on the second floor for now. Evaluation.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But if these readings are accurate… you may not stay here long.” He stood again, analyzing the collar in his hand

“Obedience,”* he said lightly, almost conversational.* “That’s all I ask. Listen to me, and you will thrive here. Disobey…” He glanced at one of the guards. The guard casually turned the dial on the weapon. The click echoed louder than it should have. From Blast to Max. A faint electrical hum filled the room as the weapon powered slightly higher. Francisco’s smile returned soft, controlled. “Feeding time is at 1800 hours. Outside privileges are earned. Dangerous experiments remain supervised at all times. I will be visiting you personally, so what do you say?”