Chapter 10: The Whispering Echo
Victor von Doom stood alone in the dim light of his makeshift workshop, the only illumination a flickering lamp perched precariously over a cluttered workbench. Outside, the city's restless heartbeat pulsed faintly, a distant mixture of sirens, engines, and muffled conversations. But here, in this small sanctuary of metal scraps and arcane technology, time seemed to slow — an oasis of stillness amid the urban chaos.
His eyes, sharp and unblinking, were fixed on the sprawling map pinned to the wall. Thin, taut strings connected various points across the city's underground: relic sites, anomalous psionic activity, and the faint trails of "Echoes" — those mysterious mental shadows he had barely begun to understand.
At the center, a single pin marked the site labeled Anchor — the very place in the subway where the relic had last been detected.
Victor touched his temple lightly.
> [Mental Protocol: Level 3 – Neuronal Stabilization (Temporary Activation, 15-minute duration).]
The subtle hum in his mind was familiar and comforting. This upgrade, though temporary, had allowed him to pierce the veil of psychic interference moments ago and catch the fleeting glimpse of the silver-eyed woman — the one who had taken the relic from beneath the city.
The System's neural algorithms had sifted through layers of psionic noise to isolate her signature, faint but undeniably there.
He knew he needed to see her again.
To understand what she was.
And how deeply she was connected to this unfolding mystery.
---
A ghost of a smile curved his lips.
She was no ordinary thief.
She was something else.
An Echo.
The word itself carried weight — something half-remembered, half-feared.
---
Victor stepped toward the window and stared out over the cityscape. The streets below were slick with recent rain, reflecting fractured neon like shattered glass. The people moved unaware, caught in their own dramas and struggles, oblivious to the deeper game at play beneath their feet.
Echoes — psionic reverberations of entities caught between dimensions or timelines — were rare and dangerous. They were the remnants of forgotten realities, memories made manifest, or fragments of beings trapped in psychic limbo. They could carry knowledge, yes, but also chaos.
The woman's silver eyes marked her as more than human — or at least, more than any ordinary human.
---
Victor's mind raced.
Was she a guide? A warning? Or a threat?
His fingers tightened around the edge of the window frame.
---
He turned back to the map, eyes narrowing as the System updated his mental database.
> [Alert: Neural signature match probability 87%. Entity class: Echo sub-type — Unknown.]
The System's classification was broad, but the match was strong.
The echoes were spreading.
Slowly.
Like ripples from a stone cast into still water.
---
Victor ran a hand through his hair, then made a mental note.
The current permanent level of his Mental Protocol was Level 2 — providing him moderate resistance to psionic interference and improved control over invasive psychic stimuli.
The temporary Level 3 boost, with its Neuronal Stabilization, was essential for moments like this — granting him clarity, sharpened perception, and the ability to scan and interact with psionic phenomena for short periods.
His goal was clear.
Solidify Level 3 permanently.
Push to Level 4.
Level 4, still locked, promised projected mental influence and remote psionic interfacing — abilities that could tip the scales in this invisible war of minds.
---
As he stood there, the soft chime of his wrist console drew his attention.
A message.
Encrypted.
Origin unknown.
Victor's fingers moved deftly, decrypting the transmission.
The message was brief — ominous.
> "The Anchor stirs unrest. Beware the sleepers beneath the city."
---
Victor's breath caught.
Sleepers beneath the city?
His mind flashed to the subterranean labyrinth — the forgotten subway tunnels, the broken infrastructure, the shadows of history buried beneath concrete and steel.
The relic, the echoes, the woman with silver eyes — they were all connected.
Something ancient was waking.
Something powerful.
---
He summoned a holographic map of the underground tunnels. The display glowed with points of interest — faint psionic spikes, energy surges, even subtle seismic tremors barely perceptible to human senses.
The echoes were converging there.
The sleepers were stirring.
Victor moved closer, tapping and swiping to overlay layers of energy readings, urban layouts, and the few ancient glyphs he'd managed to decode.
---
The "Anchor" glyph, carved into the subway platform where the relic had rested, was a symbol of binding and stability. Yet, its presence here was paradoxical. The relic had vanished, taken — but the echoes, the psionic energy, remained, growing.
The question gnawed at him.
Was the relic a key or a lock?
A beacon or a weapon?
---
His thoughts flicked back to the silver-eyed woman — the echo's carrier, the thief, the unknown factor.
If she had the relic, she was either trying to harness its power or keep it safe from others hunting it.
And if she was linked to echoes, she might be more than a thief — perhaps a guardian, or even a harbinger.
---
Victor felt the weight of the situation settle heavily on his shoulders.
The hunt was no longer just about power.
It was about survival.
And discovery.
---
He glanced back at the workbench, cluttered with scraps of technology and arcane relics.
His mind shifted gears — to his System stats, which were quietly evolving alongside him.
The permanent Mental Protocol Level 2 gave him steady resistance to psychic attacks, but recent events had shown him its limits.
Temporary Level 3 boosts, like the neuronal stabilization just activated, were invaluable for scanning and interpreting psychic phenomena.
Level 4 remained tantalizingly out of reach.
---
He made a silent vow.
Unlock Level 4 soon.
Master the echoes.
Command the impossible.
---
A sudden sharp ping from his console broke the silence.
Another encrypted message, this one more fragmented:
> "…sleepers… beneath… awaken… powers beyond… must not rise…"
The warnings were clear, but vague.
A veiled threat, or perhaps a plea.
Victor leaned back in his chair, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him.
---
Outside, the city breathed, unaware that beneath its streets, beneath the very foundations of civilization, ancient forces were stirring.
For Victor von Doom, this was no longer just a game.
It was a war.
A war of shadows, echoes, and relics.
And he was at its center.
---
The hunt was on.
And only Doom could command the impossible.