When the sun dipped below the horizon, Hal returned to his room once more. He settled onto the cold floor, back pressed against the steel door, eyes idly tracking the dull glow of the windowpane. It wasn't that he disliked the chair or the bed—it was more about where he was sitting. Right beneath the surveillance camera. He couldn't be certain if this spot fully concealed him from view, but it hid something. And right now, that small uncertainty was the closest thing to comfort he had.
Today hadn't been eventful by any means. A few conversations, a couple of faces—but he'd come away with more than he expected. Clues. Hints about the world he'd landed in, and glimmers of understanding about his powers.
First, the world. Sam had told him that half of Earth's population had vanished, and mutants emerged in the aftermath. That had Thanos written all over it. Which meant this world—the one he was now trapped in—had already suffered the Snap. Half the planet gone in an instant. But was this the comic book universe? Or the movie one? Both versions of Thanos had the same goal, but Hal hoped—quietly, desperately—that it was the cinematic universe. He knew that world better. Yet even so, he couldn't recall any mention of the Snap giving rise to mutants in either version. That part didn't fit.
He let out a quiet sigh. So many questions. But the answers, he was sure, would come soon.
Then there were his powers—or at least, the first signs of them. From the moment he woke up in this place, he could feel it. That invisible pressure radiating off people in waves: some sharp and freezing, others hot and stifling, some heavy enough to sap the strength from his limbs. He didn't have a concrete explanation yet, but one possibility stood out.
Emotions.
Not just sensing them—feeling them. Which would make him...an empath. But not like any empath he'd ever read about. He couldn't name the emotions outright. He could only sense their texture. Their weight. Their temperature. The only one he felt sure about was the burning, searing heat. That had to be anger. It was too raw, too overwhelming to be anything else.
As for the others...he'd need more time. More people. More clues.
But still, if that was all his power amounted to, it felt—underwhelming. What good was sensing emotions in the face of a turret trained on your skull?
Hal shook his head, a low, almost desperate motion. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze toward the door, to feel at what is just beyond it.
He could feel it.
That pressure again. Heavy. Unnamed. And beneath it, the searing wave he now associated with anger—it burned from across the hall like heat rolling off a furnace. Someone was there. Watching. Or brooding.
"Hey," Hal called out, his voice low but clear. "Can you hear me?"
Silence.
But something shifted. A ripple in the aura—brief, like a skipped heartbeat. He'd caught her attention.
"You're Illyana, right?" he tried again, pushing gently. "The doctor mentioned you. Well... not the doctor exactly, but you know what I mean."
No reply. But the heat spiked the moment he said "doctor." The anger flared.
Hal leaned forward, voice quieter now. "You didn't show up for the counseling session. What happened? Did they lock you in for something?"
Another surge of heat—this time sharp, like a hot blade slicing through his skin. Whatever he touched, it was raw.
"What did you do?" he asked, hesitant. "Did you—"
"Hal, could you please not talk to her?"
The voice crackled from the speaker near the camera. Gregor.
"She's in solitary," she continued. "She's not supposed to have any contact right now."
Hal exhaled sharply, eyes flicking to the camera. "Oh, so you can hear me. Shocking."
"She's there for a reason," Gregor said, unmoved. "And Hal, remember, tomorrow morning, you're meeting me in my office. We need to talk about your memory. What you know. What you think you know. And I expect you to be honest."
Hal shrugged lazily. "Sure."
"Now go to sleep. It's past curfew."
"I will," Hal muttered, turning back toward the bed. "Right after you stop spying on me."
"You know I can't do that, Hal. Please. Just listen."
Hal didn't reply. He stood up, crossed the room in a few quiet steps, and dropped onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling.
"Happy?" he murmured.
"Thank you," Gregor said. "Good night, Hal."
Hal didn't answer. Just a hum. His eyes remained open for a while, tracing the shadows cast by the dim light above. Only when his body grew heavy and the thoughts blurred at the edges did he finally close his eyes.
And with that, the day came to an end.