CTS TIME RE250.05.26 — 6:41 PM
The room had not returned to normal.
Even after Dr. X released her, even after the door sealed, the gravity remained subtly wrong—as if the space itself had learned his posture and hadn't yet forgotten it. Sophia pushed herself upright slowly, her throat aching, pulse still racing. She didn't need to look up to know he hadn't left far.
He was still there.
Leaning casually near the doorway, arms loosely folded, white coat falling perfectly into place as if the violence moments earlier had been nothing more than an academic demonstration.
Dr. X spoke again, his tone conversational, almost bored.
"To avoid confusion," he said, "Dr. F has formally handed you over to me."
The words struck harder than the impact against the wall.
Sophia's head snapped up. "No."
It came out raw, immediate, unfiltered.
"That's not possible," she continued, forcing herself to stand despite the tremor in her legs. "He wouldn't— He can't. I didn't agree to that."
Dr. X smiled.
Not wide. Not cruel.
Worse—patient.
"You misunderstand your position," he said. "Agreement is not a prerequisite."
Sophia clenched her fists. "I protest. I'm a Mk-4 Veteran agent. There are protocols. Oversight. You can't just—"
"No protest," Dr. X interrupted softly.
Two words.
The room reacted instantly.
The gravity deepened—not crushing, but pressing, forcing her knees to bend slightly, breath to shorten. The walls hummed at a lower frequency, lights dimming as if intimidated.
Dr. X tilted his head. "Otherwise," he continued calmly, "we revisit how quickly a human body adapts to pain."
Sophia froze.
Her face drained of color.
She had felt Dr. F's cruelty. Calculated. Purposeful. Contained.
This was different.
This was curiosity without restraint.
Her mind screamed warnings over one another.
He's worse.
He doesn't stabilize—he consumes.
I have to talk to Dr. F. I have to—
Dr. X stepped closer. The pressure increased with him, as if his presence carried mass beyond physics.
"From today," he said, "you will reside in my quarters."
Sophia's breath caught. "What…?"
"We will train extensively," he continued, voice smooth. "Your limits. Your adaptability. Your cognitive elasticity. Human potential fascinates me."
He leaned down slightly, eyes level with hers.
"And I do not like inefficiency."
Sophia said nothing.
Her mind was screaming now, loud enough that she felt it might fracture.
This is wrong. This is beyond evaluation. This is—
She swallowed hard.
"I need to speak to Dr. F," she said quietly, forcing the words through. "Now."
Dr. X straightened, unimpressed.
"You already have," he replied. "Through his decision."
That broke something inside her chest.
Dr. X turned toward the room, gesturing lazily.
"Pack your belongings," he said. "I despise waiting."
The gravity pulsed once—an unmistakable command.
Sophia stood there, unmoving, her thoughts spiraling violently.
He wouldn't do this.
Dr. F wouldn't hand me over to someone like this.
Unless he had no choice… or unless this is part of something worse.
Her gaze flicked to the walls, the ceiling, the systems that once responded to her.
They were silent now.
She moved slowly, mechanically, gathering the few personal items she had—the folded Mk-4 uniform, a data slate, the shattered remnants of the glass ball her mechanical cat once played with.
Each movement felt like surrender.
Behind her, Dr. X watched without impatience, without emotion—like a researcher observing a specimen comply with environmental pressure.
As she turned back toward him, her face composed but her eyes burning, one thought rang louder than all the others:
Dr. F… if you did this knowingly—
Her jaw tightened.
—then this war just became personal.
Dr. X opened the door.
The corridor beyond bent subtly toward him.
"Welcome," he said lightly, "to the next stage of your evolution."
Sophia stepped forward—not because she wanted to, but because the universe itself seemed to move when he did.
And somewhere deep within DNA, lines were crossing that had never existed before.