The glow of monitors bathed the surveillance room in cold light. The once-cozy study had been stripped bare — shelves emptied, personal photos removed, and replaced with communication rigs, signal jammers, and high-resolution security feeds.
Kael's home no longer looked like a home.
Agent Marx stood with his arms crossed, a rigid line drawn from his shoulders to his boots. He stared at the main feed — a side-angle capture of Kael walking next to a girl outside the school building.
"That's the third time she's made contact," he muttered.
Agent Lynne, seated beside him, didn't glance up. "And the third time he didn't push her away."
"He shouldn't be letting anyone close. Especially a civilian."
"Yet he's choosing to," Lynne said, fingers flying across her keyboard as she pulled up a second feed — a microphone capture of their conversation earlier that day.
She let it play for a few seconds. Kael's voice was even, deliberate.
"You already noticed anomalies. You're already part of this."
Lynne raised an eyebrow. "He's thinking logically. She figured it out. He calculated that keeping her close was safer than letting her act alone."
Marx's jaw tightened. "That's not his call to make."
"And yet, he made it."
Marx turned away from the monitors, pacing behind her. "This was supposed to be a controlled containment. He's supposed to obey command, not hand out classified knowledge because a girl asked nicely."
"She didn't ask nicely," Lynne replied. "She pried. Observed. She saw enough inconsistencies in his behavior to make connections. That's not 'nicely.' That's threat-level curiosity."
"So why defend her?" Marx asked.
Lynne looked up. "Because she's not panicking. She's adapting. That makes her an asset."
"And what if she talks? What if she posts something? Tells a friend?" He paused, leaning in. "You've seen the numbers. Every month, there are more of them. One wrong post could bring them all down on us."
Lynne's response was interrupted by a soft beep. The secure line lit up green in the corner. Marx answered with a tap.
A deep, masked voice came through the speakers.
"Status report."
Marx stood tall. "Subject Kael has maintained regular movement within school parameters. However, he's initiated direct, repeated contact with a civilian — a classmate. She's been informed of his memory loss and implied exposure to the incident."
"Who initiated the disclosure?"
"The subject himself," Lynne answered calmly.
"What was his reasoning?"
"He said — and I quote — 'She already noticed anomalies. She's already part of this.'"
A long pause crackled through the line.
"Assessment?"
Marx answered instantly. "She's a liability. Exposure risk is increasing. I recommend silent detainment and memory wipe if possible."
Lynne raised a hand. "Counterpoint. She's displaying a stabilizing influence. Kael is beginning to interact, follow routines, listen more. If she can help him maintain cover, it may reduce unpredictability."
"Has he shown signs of disobedience?"
Marx hesitated. "He's made choices outside of mission parameters. This isn't disobedience… yet. But it's the kind of autonomy that leads there."
"And the girl?"
"She's resourceful," Lynne said. "Could be molded into a handler-type. Or monitored."
Marx frowned. "We can't keep letting civilians walk into this."
"Understood," the voice replied. "Keep her under passive surveillance. No contact unless she breaks containment. Reassess in seventy-two hours."
The line went dead.
Lynne exhaled slowly and turned back to the feed. On one screen, Kael sat alone in a classroom — unmoving, unreadable. On another, Lina walked through the hallway, arms folded tightly.
"They're forming a pattern," Lynne murmured.
Marx looked over her shoulder. "You think this is a bond?"
"I think this is strategy. On both sides."
"He was built to destroy things like her," Marx said quietly. "People with feelings. Attachments."
"Built?" Lynne gave him a sideways glance. "He's not a machine."
"No," Marx muttered. "But he's not entirely human anymore, either."
They both fell silent.
The monitor flickered slightly.
Kael blinked.
Lynne narrowed her eyes.
"…He's changing," she said under her breath.