Darkness didn’t co all at once.
It folded in unevenly, tearing pieces out of his senses instead of shutting them down clean. The last thing Xavier registered was the taste of blood and the weight of Jupiter’s gravity dragging him back into the ground, his body refusing to respond no matter how hard he tried to move it.
Then there was nothing.
When awareness returned, it did so violently. Noise hamred against his skull, not external at first but internal, like fragnts of sound looping without rhythm. Light bled in behind his eyes, broken and sharp, forcing a groan out of his throat before he even understood why his chest hurt.
He opened his eyes.
A white ceiling filled his vision, smooth and unmarked, close enough that he could focus on it imdiately. No sky. No clouds. No color bands stretching into infinity. Just artificial light and a surface that didn’t care whether he was awake or not.
Pain followed a mont later as he pushed himself up. His muscles resisted like they’d been locked in place for too long, every movent dragging discomfort through his shoulders, his ribs, his neck. It wasn’t the pain of fresh wounds. It was the aftermath of restraint, sedation, and handling by people who had taken their ti.
He sat upright and looked around.
tal bars with glass frad one side of the room. Reinforced walls sealed the rest, clean and layered, designed to survive impact rather than look imposing. No windows. No visible doors from where he sat. The gravity felt heavier than Earth’s, pressing down in a way that made denial pointless.
He was in a prison on Jupiter.
The mory surfaced without rcy. The figure in the distance. The raised arm. The mont of recognition that hadn’t had ti to beco understanding. Then the impact, brutal and direct, artillery tearing into his face mid-air before he could even turn.
Xavier looked down at himself, checking what he could see. Arms intact. Hands steady, despite the ache. His chest rose and fell evenly, though it felt tight. Nothing missing. Nothing exposed. He raised one hand and brought it to his face.
Bandages covered most of it, wrapped carefully, firm enough to hold but not tight enough to cut circulation. Whoever had done this hadn’t rushed. They’d repaired him because they wanted him functional.
He lowered his hand and leaned back slightly, eyes fixed ahead, jaw tight beneath the layers of cloth.
They had dragged him off a battlefield, kept him alive, and locked him here instead of finishing the job. Whatever they wanted from him, it wasn’t information he could give freely, and it wasn’t a death they were willing to grant quickly.
Xavier had just settled his breathing when the room changed.
There was no door opening and no sound to warn him. The light above shifted slightly, not dimming or brightening, just adjusting in a way that made the space feel less neutral and more intentional. A mont later, a section of the wall across from him separated along a seam he hadn’t noticed before, sliding back to reveal a second chamber beyond it.
Rin was already there.
He was seated in a restraint chair bolted to the floor, arms locked down, chest bound by a reinforced harness that cut across his jacket. One side of his face was swollen, skin discolored where sothing heavy had connected. Dried blood traced along his hairline, and his breathing carried a rough edge that hadn’t been there before.
Rin’s eyes snapped up the mont he saw Xavier.
"You’re alive," he said, voice hoarse but steady enough to an it.
"Heh!" Xavier chuckled. "You look worse than I do."
"They spent more ti on . Probably didn’t like how often I tried to move." Rin let out sothing close to a laugh that didn’t quite make it. "Give it ti."
Before either of them could say more, a third presence made itself known.
A figure stood just inside the far chamber, positioned where the light frad them clearly but revealed nothing unnecessary. No armor. No visible weapons. Just dark clothing, tailored and unmarked, and a posture that didn’t need reinforcent to feel in control.
They hadn’t entered the room; they had been there the entire ti, positioned far enough back to stay out of focus until attention settled.
"You survived an artillery strike designed to destroy reinforced vehicles," the figure said. "That alone justified this facility."
Xavier turned his head toward them. "If you’re here to talk about weapons, you picked the wrong start."
"This is not a conversation," the figure replied. "It’s an evaluation."
Rin leaned back as much as the restraints allowed. "Then unstrap and make it interesting."
The restraints adjusted imdiately, tightening across his chest just enough to make the point.
Xavier watched it happen. "You’re controlling the room," he said. "That ans you’re not here to threaten us. You’re here to asure us."
The figure nodded once. "You destroyed a Blackwood gate facility, killed response teams, and disabled infrastructure ant to survive orbital strikes. Then you stopped moving and looked away from the battlefield."
Xavier didn’t answer.
"The strike that followed was deliberate," the figure continued. "We needed to know whether overwhelming force would end the problem."
Rin turned his head toward Xavier. "It didn’t," he said. "They confird that part."
Xavier finally spoke. "You kept us alive. You restrained him more than . That tells you think I’m the risk, and he’s insurance."
The figure stepped closer to the glass separating the rooms. "Correct."
"And now," Xavier went on, "you’re trying to decide whether containnt works better than removal."
"Yes."
Rin exhaled slowly. "You could’ve just asked."
"No," the figure replied. "Because asking assus cooperation. We needed baseline behavior first."
Xavier glanced at Rin, then back at the figure. "If this continues," he said, "you’ll learn less, not more."
"Explain."
"You’re treating him like leverage," Xavier said. "That narrows my options. Narrow options produce predictable outcos."
The figure studied him for a mont. "And what outco would that be?"
Xavier t their eyes. "One where this facility stops being useful."
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