My gaze lingered on it for a second longer than I intended before shifting back to him.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“And if I do this… then maybe…”
His voice trailed off, barely more than a murmur, the words dissolving into the steady rhythm of the stylus striking the screen.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I moved closer, but he was so in the zone I knew he didn't even register I was here. Not even a glance.
It helped that no one had access to this place then myself and his sisters, so anyone that walked in wasn't a threat.
His hair stuck out in uneven directions, strands falling into his face where they’d clearly been ignored. His shirt was wrinkled, marked with a faint, dried red stain that hadn’t been cleaned. His grip on the stylus so tight his knuckles were white. Then I noticed a couple of his fingers had badges wrapped around them and I took a deep breath.
He must’ve used that damn knife on himself. Again. Fucking asshole. He told me he would stop doing that!
Resisting the urge to massage my oncoming migraine, I looked around at the untouched surfaces around him, which said everything. No glass or plates, just a few small plastic bags scattered on the floor like he had thrown them over his shoulder.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“If it’s not just DNA…” he said more to himself than anything else. “Then the magic needs a focus. A trigger point… which means…”
His eyes flickered briefly, widening as something had clicked.
“Oooor it was a fucking prototype. Something to be tested!”
The stylus moved faster.
I stepped up beside him, setting the glass down on the table with a soft but deliberate sound. The liquid inside shifted, catching the light.
“You need to drink this.” I pointed at the glass even though his eyes never left the screen in front of him.
“It can’t just be tied to the blood,” he continued, leaning closer to the tablet like I hadn’t spoken a word. “There has to be a layer beneath it… some kind of embedded command or directive.”
I clasped my hands behind my back, letting him go on for a few more minutes to finish his thought. The sound of the stylus filled the room again, quick and uneven, as his mind raced ahead.
Then I reached forward and nudged the glass closer.
“Calix.” The name landed heavier. “You need to drink this.Now.”
He gave a small nod, barely there, more reflex than response, but his eyes never left the screen.
“If it’s targeted…” he said, voice sharpening slightly, “then they’re not trying to eliminate all supes in one swoop. Just specific ones, which means?—”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The stylus moved faster, almost frantic now.
I inhaled slowly as I watched him slip further into problem-solving mode, and I knew I had to stop him. I had to make him come up for air.
With a lift of my hand, the air shifted, wrapping around his wrist before he could react, tightening just enough to stop the movement mid-motion. The stylus froze inches above the screen, suspended in place as his hand refused to move forward.
“Now, we can do this the easy way… or the hard way.”
I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t need to. The air still held his wrist in place, the stylus frozen inches above the screen. The only movement in the room came from the slow rise and fall of his shoulders.
“But you’re drinking this,” I added, nudging the glass slightly closer with two fingers. “Right now.”
