Chapter Text
The second dose was scheduled for eight in the morning.
Flux considered not going. He considered it while brushing his teeth.He considered it while making coffee.
He considered it while standing in front of the medical wing's doors with his hands shoved into his pockets and the distinct feeling that he had somehow walked himself into a situation he was no longer certain he wanted to be in.
Then the doors opened automatically.
He went inside.
That was the thing about the Tower. Most decisions had already been made for you. You simply had to decide whether you were going to cooperate with them.
“Captain Fluxion.”
The same technician looked up from the desk.
Flux smiled faintly.
“You people really know how to make someone feel welcome.”
“Good morning.”
“Is it?”
The technician glanced at the clock.
“Objectively, yes.”
Flux laughed despite himself.
“Fair.”
He sat down.
The technician pulled up his file.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
That wasn't entirely true.
The nausea had gotten worse overnight. So had the headaches.
He'd woken twice with his heart racing, convinced for several seconds that someone was standing in his room.
Nobody had been there.
At least, nobody he could see.
The strange pressure had remained.
It wasn't painful. That almost made it worse. It was simply there. A sensation of potential. Like something inside him was waiting for permission.
“You experienced involuntary activation?”
Flux looked up.
The technician was still reading the screen.
“Once.”
“Describe it.”
“My mug moved.”
“Distance?”
“Maybe an inch.”
“Direction?”
“Toward me.”
The technician typed something.
Flux watched the movement of their fingers.
“Is that bad?”
“Not necessarily.”
“You say that a lot.”
“It tends to be true.”
“That's reassuring.”
The technician smiled.
“Any other incidents?”
Flux hesitated.
“The railing.”
“What railing?”
“Stairwell. It moved.”
“Was there structural vibration?”
“Probably.”
“Anything else?”
Flux looked away.
“A drone.”
The typing stopped.
“What happened?”
“I dropped it.”
“Accidentally?”
“Yes.”
“Did you regain control?”
“Immediately.”
“Any damage?”
“No.”
The technician nodded.
“That is encouraging.”
Flux frowned.
“Encouraging?”
“Your response time is improving.”
“That's what everyone keeps telling me.”
“Because it's true.”
Flux stared at the floor.
The technician prepared the syringe.
“Arm.”
He rolled up his sleeve.
This time, he watched.
The liquid was clear. Almost colorless.
He couldn't help thinking about the first dose.
The cold. The nausea. The strange pressure.
“Does it always look like that?”
“Yes.”
“Same formulation?”
“Same series.”
“Series Four.”
“Yes.”
The needle entered his arm.
Flux tensed.
The technician pushed the plunger.
The cold came faster this time. It spread through his arm in a sudden rush, reaching his shoulder and chest before slowly fading.
Flux inhaled sharply.
“That's stronger.”
The technician paused.
“Stronger how?”
“The cold.”
“That's unusual.”
Flux looked at them.
For the first time, the technician looked uncertain.
Only for a second.
Then the expression disappeared.
“Transient reaction.”
“Is that normal?”
“It can happen.”
There it was again.
That phrase.
Flux almost laughed.
“Of course.”
The needle came out.
The technician applied a small bandage.
“Sit for ten minutes.”
“I have training.”
“You'll miss it.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
Flux stared at them.
The technician stared back.
Finally, Flux leaned against the chair.
“Fine.”
He lasted four minutes.
Then the room began to feel too small.
Flux stood.
The technician immediately looked up.
“Captain.”
“I feel fine.”
“You're supposed to remain seated.”
“I know.”
He took one step toward the door.
A metal tray rattled.
Flux stopped.
The tray rattled again. Not from movement. Not from anyone touching it.
Every instrument on its surface trembled at once.
The technician stared.
Flux slowly turned toward it.
“What?”
The technician stood.
“Don't move.”
“I wasn't.”
The tray shook harder.
A pair of scissors slid toward the edge. Flux lifted his hand instinctively.
The scissors stopped. So did everything else.
Silence.
Flux stared at his own hand.
The pressure in the room was enormous. Not visible. Not loud. But suddenly he could feel it everywhere.
Around the tray. Around the walls. Around the chair. Around the technician.Around himself.
It was like discovering, all at once, that he'd been standing in the ocean.
He released his ability. Everything dropped.
The scissors hit the tray with a sharp metallic clatter.
The technician took a slow breath.
“Are you all right?”
Flux swallowed.
“Yeah.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
He looked down. They were. His fingers were trembling violently.
“I just—” He stopped.
He didn't know what to say.
The technician reached for the tablet.
Flux saw the movement.
“Don't write that down.”
The technician paused.
“Captain?”
“I said don't.”
“Why?”
“Because it was nothing.”
“It wasn't nothing.”
Flux looked at them.
The technician's expression remained neutral.
“We need to document any involuntary activation.”
“Why?”
“Because you're being monitored.”
The answer was so matter-of-fact that Flux almost missed it.
He stared.
“Monitored.”
“For treatment response.”
“Right.”
The technician looked back at the tablet.
Flux sat down again.
His heart was beating too quickly.
3BelowZero was waiting outside.
Of course he was.
Flux stopped.
“You're becoming a stalker.”
“You're becoming predictable.”
“I was supposed to be in training.”
“You're late.”
“Medical kept me.”
3BelowZero looked past him.
At the doors.
Then back at Flux.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
3BelowZero's expression hardened.
“Flux.”
“I had a reaction.”
“What kind?”
“Nothing serious.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Flux sighed.
“The tray moved.”
3BelowZero waited.
“And?”
“And I stopped it.”
“With your ability?”
“Yes.”
“Were you trying to?”
“No.”
3BelowZero's face changed. Just slightly.
Flux noticed.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was thinking.”
“That's worse.”
3BelowZero looked toward the medical wing.
“What did they give you?”
“Series Four.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I've seen the name.”
Flux frowned.
“Where?”
“Medical reports.”
“What reports?”
“Nothing recent.”
Flux studied him.
3BelowZero looked uncomfortable.
“You're not supposed to be looking at my medical reports.”
“I wasn't.”
“You just said—”
“I was reviewing post-attack injury reports.”
“And mine was in there.”
“Yes.”
Flux stared at him.
Then laughed softly.
“That's comforting.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
3BelowZero lowered his voice.
“Something isn't right.”
Flux looked down the hallway. People were passing them. Nobody seemed interested.
“Don't say that here.”
3BelowZero went quiet.
Flux hadn't meant to say it. Not out loud. Not to anyone.
But now that it was there between them, he couldn't pretend he hadn't meant it.
3BelowZero looked at him.
“Do you believe me?”
Flux swallowed.
“I don't know.”
That answer seemed to hurt him.
Flux looked away.
“I don't know what I believe anymore.”
Training was canceled for him.
Officially, he had been placed on temporary observation following the previous day's attack.
Flux found that irritating.
He found the headaches more irritating. He found the nausea unbearable.
By lunchtime, he had eaten almost nothing. By two, his hands were shaking again. By three, he'd started hearing the faint metallic hum of objects around him.
He sat alone in the locker room.
The room was empty. At least, he thought it was.
He closed his eyes. The pressure was everywhere.
He could feel the lockers. The benches. The pipes behind the walls. The screws holding the ceiling panels together.
He opened his eyes.
Nothing had changed. But he could feel it.
That was the frightening part.
His ability had always been external.
He reached. He pushed. He pulled. He controlled.
Now it felt as though the force was beginning to reach back.
Flux stood.
A locker door opened. He froze. It slowly swung outward.
Flux stared at it.
“Stop.”
The door stopped. He didn't move. Another locker opened. Then another.
Flux's breathing quickened.
“Stop.”
Simultaneously, they all slammed shut. The sound echoed through the room.
Flux stepped backward.
His shoulder hit the wall.
The lights flickered.
And for one terrible second, every object in the room seemed to lift.
Not much. An inch. Maybe less.
But enough.
Flux's stomach dropped.
“No.”
He threw his hands downward.
The force collapsed. Everything hit the floor.Metal screamed against metal.
Flux doubled over. His head throbbed. He tasted blood. He touched his nose.
His hand came back red.
Then the door opened. 3BelowZero stood there. His eyes moved across the room. The open lockers. The scattered equipment. The cracked tile beneath Flux's boots. Then back to Flux.
Neither of them spoke.
“What happened?”
Flux wiped his nose.
“I lost control.”
3BelowZero walked toward him. Slowly. Carefully.
Like approaching something injured.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Flux.”
“No.”
3BelowZero stopped in front of him.
“Look at me.”
Flux did.
“You're shaking.”
“I know.”
“Headache?”
“Yes.”
“Nausea?”
“Yes.”
“Dizzy?”
“Yes.”
3BelowZero closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
“I'm taking you back to medical.”
Flux laughed weakly.
“They're the reason this is happening.”
3BelowZero went still.
Flux realized what he'd said.
Neither of them moved.
Then 3BelowZero quietly asked,
“Do you believe that?”
Flux looked at the floor.
“I don't know.”
His voice cracked.
“I don't know.”
3BelowZero didn't answer.
He simply put a hand against Flux's shoulder.
Not gripping. Just there. Steady.
“You don't have to know yet.”
Flux swallowed.
For some reason, that almost made him cry.
He looked away.
“Don't tell anyone.”
“I won't.”
“Especially Schpood.”
A pause.
“I won't.”
Flux nodded.
They stood there together for another moment.
Then the lights stopped flickering. The room became still. Too still.
Flux looked toward the lockers.
One remained open.
He was certain he hadn't touched it.
Inside was nothing but a uniform jacket and a pair of gloves.
He stared at it.
Then slowly closed the door. This time, he used his hand. Not his ability.
That evening, 3BelowZero went to the medical division alone.
Flux didn't know that.
He didn't know that 3BelowZero stood across from the same technician and asked exactly what Regulation Series Four was.
He didn't know the technician told him that the compound had been approved by the Directorate.
He didn't know that 3BelowZero asked why Flux's dosage had been increased after a single episode of ability overload.
He didn't know the technician answered:
“Because his response is promising.”
And he certainly didn't know that 3BelowZero stood there for several seconds afterward, staring at the closed medical file.
Because the word bothered him. Not improving. Not recovering. Not stabilizing.
Promising.
By midnight, Flux was asleep.
His body was exhausted enough that sleep came quickly. His breathing settled. His hands stopped shaking.
For the first time all day, the pressure disappeared.
Then, sometime after two in the morning, the glass on his bedside table began to vibrate.
Once. Twice. Then steadily.
Flux didn't wake.
The glass lifted from the table. It hovered in the darkness.
And this time, nobody was telling it to.