REN PLUTO
Ravi was broken.
Pacing. A frantic four-step back-and-forth trapped animal pace.
"An audit... an audit..." Muttering. Hands yanking at his own hair. "She'll break him." Pointed at Jules's unconscious body. "She'll break him. Find us. See the door. God... we're dead."
"Shut up."
Ren's voice. Raw bloody croak.
Ravi froze. Spun. Eyes wild. "Shut up? Ren, she's a mind hunter! She sucks the Pigs dry! She's the vampire!"
"So we fight." Nyx's voice flat. Sitting on her bunk. Holding Kieran's stolen reader. The only other one not shaking. Just cold.
"Fight her?" Ravi laughed. Ugly high-pitched hysterical. "How, Nyx? Punch a psychologist? Ren gouge her eye out? She's not Thorne! She doesn't use violence. She just talks. And you break apart."
"No." A new voice. Maven.
Standing at her makeshift lab. Back to them. Holding the locket.
She turned. The Mouse was gone. The girl who'd screamed at him, who'd fixed the door... back. Eyes red-rimmed but dry. On fire.
"You're wrong, Ravi." Voice clear. "We can fight her. He..." Pointed at Ren. "Brought us the bullet."
She held up the reader.
Ren crossed the room in a second. Shoulder screaming protest. "The shield. You said shield. Explain. Now."
Maven looked at him. At Ren (448), bloody marked killer. At Nyx (495), the weapon. At Ravi (455), crumbling leader.
"The locket." Quickly. "The glitch. It's a logic bomb. The Chair is a harvest. Feeds on pure-state emotion. Pure fear. Pure rage. That's RNUKE. Fuel."
"We know." Nyx snapped. "Point."
"The point." Maven's voice dropped. "Bad design. A symbiote. Can't process paradox. Binary. Reads 'rage' or 'grief.' Can't read both at once."
She looked at Ren. "That's the glitch. The shield. You feed it two contradictory emotions. Same intensity. Love and rage. Hope and despair. The machine crashes. Breaks."
Dead silence.
Ravi stared. "That's insane. Poetry. Not a plan. She straps us in and we just... feel contradictory?"
Ren looked at Ravi. Weak.
"You got a better idea, 455?" Ren snarled. Stalked up. In his face. "You wanna talk your way out? Your Sunny Boy shit won't work on her. She'll eat you."
"And your Wolf shit won't work either!" Ravi roared back. Shoved Ren in his good shoulder.
Ren yelled. Pure white-hot spike of agony shot from shoulder down spine. Staggered back. Vision white.
Ravi froze. Eyes wide. Hand still up. "I didn't—Ren—"
"Don't... fucking... touch me." Ren hissed. Clutching arm. Teeth bared. Going to kill him.
"See?" Ravi almost in tears now. Rage gone. "This! This is what she wants! The rage! The fear! She's coming... and we're beating each other up!"
"Both of you." Nyx's voice a whip-crack. "ENOUGH. We have four hours. Four. Until she's at that door."
She looked at Sayer. The ghost.
Sayer just... watching. Eyes analytical.
"Nyx is right." Sayer whispered. Room silent. "The plan's sound. Logic bomb. Not poetry. Anchoring. You don't invent paradox. You find it. The two things you're most conflicted about. Two truths both real."
This was it. The real training.
"This is stupid." Zelie's voice from her bunk. "My paradox? I hate this shithole but love my face. Done. Sleep now?"
"That's it, Zelie." Sayer's voice flat. "Vanity and fear. Hold both. That's your weapon."
Zelie just... stared. Mocking them. Sia had just weaponized it.
Ravi was thinking. Handler back. "My family." Quiet. "I love them. That's why I'm here. But I resentthem. Hate them for needing me so much. For forcing me here."
Sayer nodded. "Good. Strong. Love and resentment. Hold both."
They all turned. Jules.
Awake. Woken by yelling. A wreck.
"I don't have one." Whimpered. "Just scared. That's all I am. Just weak."
"No." Maven at his side. Kneeling.
"You're not weak." Whispered. "You're full. You hate feeling everyone's pain. It hurts you."
Jules sobbing. Nodding.
"But it's who you are." Maven's voice soft. "Your gift. You can't lose it. You wouldn't want to."
Jules looked at her.
"That's it." Maven whispered. "Curse and gift. Hate and love. Your empathy. That's your shield."
Ren watched. They were all arming.
Ravi. Jules. Zelie. Sayer—her nihilism vs. fear of the white room. Nyx—her violence vs. need for control.
They all had a shield.
They all turned.
To him.
The bloody 448 Wolf.
Ren stared. Had nothing.
Not complex. A goddamn spike. Just rage.
Thought about his stepfather. Hated him. That was it. No love. No paradox.
Broken. The one who'd fail.
He turned away. Couldn't show them. Stalked to the window. Slimy dark patch of glass. Empty. Going to get strapped to that chair. The Vampire would drink him dry.
"You."
A small voice.
Maven.
Standing right behind him. The mouse back. Soft. Trembling.
Ren didn't turn. "Get out of my head, 500."
"You're not just rage." Whispered.
"What do you know?" Snarled.
"You hate it here." Stammered. So quiet barely hear. "Hate Thorean. Hate this room. Hate us."
Ren grunted. True.
"But." Tiny sharp breath. "You got the reader. Fought Thorne. Stayed all night to fix the door."
Ren turned. Slowly. Shoulder fire.
She stood there. Hands clasped. Eyes wide.
"You hate this." Whispered. Eyes locked on his. "Despise all of us. But you won't let us die."
Fuck.
Hatred for the system.
And his responsibility for them.
Hate and protection.
The journal pressed against his back. Don't trust the mice.
Staring at the mouse. She'd just seen him. Handed him a goddamn sword.
Should have said thank you.
Didn't.
"You're not a mouse." Growled. Low rough rasp. "Stop acting like one. Pathetic."
Insulting her.
But she smiled. Tiny watery exhausted real smile.
"Get some sleep, 448." Whispered.
The room was quiet. 0830.
All on bunks. Not sleeping. Waiting.
Meditating. Arming their souls.
Ren on his bunk. Eyes closed. Arm on fire. Holding on.
Hate and protection. Hate and responsibility.
Could do this.
Hssst.
The sound from the hallway.
The door to Suite 734 hissed open.
Ren's eyes snapped open.
The room was suddenly freezing. Cold unnatural dead air.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Not a general. Not a guard.
Beautiful. Soft dark brown curly hair. Gentle pink cashmere sweater. Looked like a mother.
She smiled.
Warm. Kind. Loving.
The most terrifying thing Ren had ever seen.
She glided into the room.
Didn't walk. Floated. Her soft shoes made no sound on the concrete. The fog from the hallway clung to her like a shroud, then dissolved.
Dr. Morana Gray.
The Psychological Vampire.
She looked around the room. At the rusted bunks. The peeling paint. The slimy window. At each of them—frozen, terrified, exposed.
"Good morning, Pigs." Her voice was honey. Warm milk. A lullaby. "I'm Dr. Gray. I'm here for your audit."
She smiled again. Warmth itself.
"I've brought tea."
She held up a thermal carafe. Steam rising. The smell of chamomile.
No one moved.
"Oh, don't be shy." She set it on Ravi's neatly organized shelf. "We have a long morning ahead. The Nocturne Chair can be... intense. The tea helps. Calms the nervous system. Allows for cleaner readings."
She turned. Faced them all.
"Who would like to go first?"
Silence.
Jules whimpered. Covered his mouth.
Zelie's perfect mask cracked—just for a second.
Ravi was gray. Staring at the tea. At the steam. At the trap.
Ren felt his paradox crumbling. Hate and protection. But she wasn't attacking. She was offering tea.
How do you fight kindness?
"Ah." Dr. Gray's eyes landed on Jules. "You, I think. You're vibrating at a frequency I can practically hear." She tilted her head. "What's your name, dear?"
"J-Jules." He couldn't stop shaking.
"Jules." She smiled. "What a lovely name. Come. Let's have some tea and a chat. Just you and me. The others can wait."
Jules looked at Ravi. At Ren. Begging.
Ren opened his mouth—
"Don't."
Sayer's voice. Barely a breath. Her eyes locked on Ren. Warning.
Don't engage. Don't fight. That's what she wants.
Ren's jaw clenched. Stayed silent.
Jules stood on trembling legs. Walked to Dr. Gray like a death row prisoner.
She put a warm hand on his shoulder. Guided him to the door.
"We'll be in Sub Level Three," she said over her shoulder. "The Nocturne Suite. I'll send for the next when we're done."
The door hissed shut.
Jules was gone.
The room erupted.
"What the fuck was that?" Zelie's voice sharp. "She brought tea? She's supposed to be a monster!"
"She is." Nyx's voice cold. "That's the point. Monsters don't look like monsters. They look like your grandmother."
Ravi was hyperventilating. "Jules... Jules is in the Chair. Alone. With her. She's going to tear him apart."
"Maybe." Maven quiet. Holding the reader. "Or maybe he'll surprise us."
Ren looked at her. "What do you mean?"
Maven scrolled through Sarah's notes. "The paradox isn't just for defense. It's data. If Jules can hold his curse and gift—hate his empathy, love his empathy—the Chair will try to process it. And fail."
"Fail how?" Ravi demanded.
"The reading corrupts." Maven looked up. "The harvest skips. She gets noise instead of signal. Jules might survive."
"And if he can't hold it?" Nyx asked.
Maven's silence was answer enough.
Twenty minutes.
Then the door hissed open.
Jules stood there.
Pale. Shaking. Alive.
He looked at them. Opened his mouth. Closed it.
Dr. Gray appeared behind him. Hand on his shoulder. Smiling.
"What a remarkable young man." She beamed. "Such depth. Such texture. His readings were... unusual. But lovely. Simply lovely."
She patted his cheek.
"Rest now, Jules. You've earned it."
Jules stumbled to his bunk. Collapsed. Curled into a ball.
But he was breathing.
It worked. The paradox worked.
Dr. Gray looked around the room. Her warm smile never wavered.
"Next."
Her eyes landed on Zelie.
Zelie stood. Chin high. Shoulders back. Walked to the door like she was walking a runway.
"I'll be fine." She tossed over her shoulder. "I've handled worse than a shrink with a tea set."
The door closed.
Twenty-two minutes later, Zelie returned.
Not walking. Staggering.
Her perfect makeup was ruined. Tears had carved tracks through her foundation. She looked at no one. Crawled into her bunk. Faced the wall.
Dr. Gray's voice from the doorway: "Vanity is such a fragile armor, isn't it? Underneath, we're all just scared children."
She looked around. Smiled.
"Next."
One by one, they went.
Ravi. Twenty-eight minutes. Came back silent. Sat on his bunk. Stared at nothing.
Sayer. Nineteen minutes. The shortest. Returned with her hoodie pulled tighter. Melted into her corner. Said nothing.
Nyx. Thirty-one minutes. The longest. Walked back in with her jaw tight. Her baton hand flexing. Sat down. Looked at Ren. Shook her head once. Don't ask.
Maven. Twenty-five minutes. Walked back in pale but steady. Holding something—a small slip of paper. She tucked it into her pocket without looking at it.
Then Dr. Gray stood in the doorway. Looked directly at Ren.
"Last but not least." That warm smile. "The famous 448. The one who talks back to deans. The one who... cleans up after himself."
She gestured.
"Your turn, Mr. Pluto."
Ren stood.
His shoulder screamed. His head pounded. His paradox—hate and protection—felt small. Pathetic. Against that smile.
He walked past her. Into the hallway.
The door closed behind them.
The walk to Sub Level Three was silent.
Dr. Gray didn't speak. Didn't look at him. Just glided ahead, a warm shadow in the fog.
They passed through a door Ren hadn't seen before. Heavy. Sealed. Beyond it, the air changed.
Cleaner. Colder. Sterile.
White walls. White floors. White light.
The Nocturne Suite.
In the center, a single chair.
Black leather. Chrome arms. Wires snaking from the base into the walls. A helmet hanging above it, lined with sensors.
The Chair.
Dr. Gray gestured. "Sit."
Ren didn't move.
"Mr. Pluto." Still smiling. Still warm. "I'm not going to hurt you. That's not how this works. I'm going to know you. And then you're going to know yourself. That's the gift of the Chair. Clarity."
Ren walked to the Chair. Sat.
The leather was cold.
Dr. Gray lowered the helmet. It settled over his head. Tight. Humming.
"Now." She sat across from him. A small tablet in her hands. "Let's begin."
The hum grew louder. The lights dimmed.
Ren felt it—a pull. A tug at the back of his mind. Like someone rummaging through his memories.
His stepfather's face.
The ring.
The bruise.
Don't you dare come back.
"Interesting." Dr. Gray's voice distant. "So much rage. So pure. You're almost a perfect specimen, Mr. Pluto. Almost."
The tug deepened. Pulling harder.
His mother's face. The hug. Be safe.
"Ah." Dr. Gray's smile widened. "There it is. Love. Hidden deep. You're more complex than you appear."
Ren gripped the chair arms. Held on.
Hate and protection. Hate and responsibility.
He thought of the unit. Ravi's desperate leadership. Nyx's cold loyalty. Maven's terrified genius. Jules's broken empathy. Zelie's fragile armor. Sayer's watchful silence.
He hated them. They were weak. Liabilities. Chains around his neck.
He needed them. They were his. His to protect. His to lead. His to save.
The Chair stuttered.
A flicker in the lights. A waver in the hum.
Dr. Gray's eyes narrowed. Just a fraction.
"Curious." She tapped her tablet. "Signal degradation. Interference. What are you doing, Mr. Pluto?"
Ren held on. Tighter.
Hate and protection. Hate and love.
The Chair screamed.
A high-pitched electronic shriek. The lights flickered wildly. The hum distorted—warped—crackled.
Then silence.
The helmet went dead. The lights steadied. The hum stopped.
Dr. Gray stared at her tablet. For the first time, her smile was gone.
"Well." Quiet. "That's never happened before."
She stood. Walked to the Chair. Removed the helmet.
Looked at Ren with new eyes. Not warmth. Not kindness.
Interest.
"You're full of surprises, Mr. Pluto." She stepped back. "You may return to your suite."
Ren stood. Legs shaky. Head spinning.
Walked to the door. Paused.
Looked back.
Dr. Gray was watching him. Tablet in hand. Smile returning.
"The audit isn't over." She said. "It's just begun. I'll see you again, 448. Soon."
Ren walked out.
Didn't run. Didn't hurry.
Walked.
Back through the white halls. Through the heavy door. Into the fog. Down the stairs.
To Suite 734.
They were all there. Waiting.
He walked in. They looked at him. Looked for wounds. For cracks.
He sat on his bunk.
Looked at his hands.
Still shaking.
But alive.
The paradox worked.
But Dr. Gray knew.
And she was coming back.