A clear plastic water bottle sat on the ground between them.
Watson placed it there carefully, as if positioning evidence rather than an object meant to be destroyed. The open field around them remained empty, flat concrete bordered by tall lights that had not yet been switched on. The underground city above was silent. No footsteps. No distant movement. Only the steady hum of ventilation running somewhere far overhead.
"Go ahead," Watson said. "Use your ability."
Ryan stared at the bottle.
It was ordinary. Transparent plastic, half-filled, the label already peeling at the edges. If it had been placed anywhere else, he wouldn't have given it a second thought.
He waited a second, then another, as if the object might explain itself if given time. When nothing happened, he looked back up.
"…How?" he asked.
Watson blinked, the confidence in his posture faltering for just a moment.
Anya sighed quietly and stepped in before the pause could stretch further. "He hasn't used it before," she said evenly. "He doesn't know how to activate it, or what conditions are involved."
Watson rubbed the bridge of his nose and gave a short, embarrassed smile. "Right. That's my fault."
Ryan said nothing. The ability existed only as words. There was no sensation attached to it. No instinctive pull. No physical cue that suggested where it resided or how it was meant to be accessed.
"Sit," Anya said. "I'll explain first."
Ryan lowered himself onto the concrete and crossed his legs. The surface was cool through his clothes, grounding in a way the open space was not.
"Supernatural abilities aren't external tools," Anya began. "They aren't spells, and they aren't weapons you pick up when needed. Every awakened individual possesses a dormant organ. We call it the second heart."
Ryan frowned slightly.
"It's not symbolic," she continued. "It develops at birth, but remains inactive. You can't feel it. You can't control it. That only changes after contamination."
"Aura exposure," Watson added. "From extraordinary creatures."
Anya nodded. "Once contaminated, the dormant organ activates. That's awakening. From then on, the second heart exists alongside your normal one."
Ryan absorbed the information without comment.
"Close your eyes," Anya said. "Calm your mind. Slow your breathing. Don't search aggressively. Just listen."
He obeyed.
At first, there was only darkness. Not the void from before, not the system interface. Just the inside of his own awareness. His thoughts drifted despite his efforts. The field. The bottle. The alley. The sound of scraping metal against flesh.
His breathing hitched.
He forced the memory down, the way he had learned to ignore muscle pain during long shifts at the gym. Resistance only made it louder. Acceptance dulled it.
In. Out.
Gradually, his awareness narrowed. His heartbeat became clearer, steady and familiar. He focused on its rhythm, letting it anchor him.
Something else lingered just beneath it.
Not stronger. Not louder. Just present. A faint pressure that did not align with his normal pulse. When he concentrated, it responded. When his focus slipped, it faded.
He adjusted his breathing, experimenting without moving. The sensation sharpened slightly, as if acknowledging him.
Nearby, Anya lowered her voice. "How long do you think it'll take him?"
Watson watched Ryan without blinking. "Most people take ten to fifteen minutes."
"And him?"
Watson didn't hesitate. "He'll break the record."
Anya glanced at him. "You're that certain?"
"Yes."
They waited.
Ryan remained motionless, his posture unchanged.
Anya spoke again, quieter now. "Dormant abilities are usually narrow. Strength. Durability. Healing. They affect a single function."
Watson said nothing.
"Decay isn't narrow," she continued. "It isn't even a function. It's a concept."
Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as if following a line of thought she didn't like.
"Structural decay. Biological decay. Material degradation." She paused. "Radiation."
Watson exhaled slowly. "You're assuming no constraints."
"I'm acknowledging unknowns," Anya replied. "Concept-based abilities don't scale linearly. They escalate."
"If he decays radioactive material without understanding the consequences…" She stopped herself.
"We won't allow uncontrolled testing," Watson said.
"That assumes we understand the trigger," she replied. "Or the scale."
Watson folded his arms. "He hasn't shown instability."
"That's not my concern," Anya said. "Magnitude is."
Her thoughts slipped, unbidden.
Ability: Stone Skin.
Description: Your skin becomes strong as stone, becoming sturdy.
Functional. Defensive. Limited.
Then Watson's.
Ability: Healer's Touch.
Description: Your touch can cure wounds and accelerate the body's metabolism.
Strong, but conditional.
Ryan's ability was neither.
"It's unfair," Anya muttered.
Watson glanced at her. "Life usually is."
"What happens if he evolves it once?" she asked. "Twice?"
Watson remained silent.
"We shouldn't tell him the full extent of his ability," Anya said quietly.
"That risks misunderstanding," Watson replied.
"And telling him everything risks misuse," she countered. "His dormant ability is already catastrophic."
Watson met her gaze. "We guide him. That's our duty. We're short on manpower, and you know what's happening in the city."
She clenched her jaw. "And if he turns out like Christopher?"
"He isn't like Christopher—"
"I can feel it."
Both of them turned sharply.
Ryan opened his eyes.
A faint, calm smile rested on his face. There was no excitement in it. No triumph. Only certainty.
"The second heart," he said. "It's there."
Anya froze.
Watson's expression changed before he could hide it.
"…Already?" Anya asked.
Ryan nodded. "It responds when I focus on it."