When Hal woke up, the first thing he noticed was the darkness.
This wasn't the room he'd been sleeping in before. It was too quiet. Too unkempt. The silence itself felt unnatural, heavy. As he cracked open his eyes, a wave of nausea hit him, like waking from a night of hard drinking. His head throbbed, and his stomach churned.
He sat up slowly, trying to orient himself. The room was small—smaller even than the one he'd had yesterday. The light was dim, barely enough to make out the mold crawling up the walls. There was no furniture. No bed. Just cold concrete and a steel door with a small barred slit near the top. Wherever this was, it wasn't a dorm. It felt more like a cell.
And it was clear he'd been moved somewhere… less accommodating.
But what stood out the most was what was missing. No cameras. No red blinking lights in the corner. No soft hum of surveillance equipment. As far as Hal could tell, the room was unmonitored. That in itself felt strange.
Still, he didn't trust what his eyes could see alone. For all he knew, there could be hidden mics or sensors embedded in the concrete. He glanced down at the wristband on his arm. It was still there. Now always active. Unlike before, it no longer blinked—it glowed with a steady, oppressive light.
He let out a long breath, leaning his head back against the wall.
Memories started flooding in—everything before he blacked out. The fight. His powers. The chaos. None of it made sense. Green chains. A surge of strength when that red aura flared. Some kind of invulnerability cloaked in orange light. What was all that?
"What the hell…" he whispered. Then a thought sparked. A ridiculous one—until it wasn't.
"Wait…"
Red aura when he was angry. Green chains when he wanted them. Orange energy when his body was being hurt.
Red. Green. Orange.
Rage. Willpower. Greed.
"…Lantern Corps?" he murmured, eyes wide.
It couldn't be a coincidence. Red is rage. Green is will. Orange is greed. Could his powers be tied to the same emotional spectrum from the Green Lantern comics? Not just sensing emotions… but channeling them?
He hadn't been much of a Green Lantern fan in his past life, but he remembered enough. The colors. The emotions.
So what was happening to him? Was he bound to the rules of some fictional emotional spectrum now? Was his power literally shaped by emotion?
That raised even more questions. Was it just the Lantern spectrum? Or could he draw from any emotion? So far, he'd only seen the ones aligned with the spectrum. But then again, emotions like will and greed weren't even technically emotions—they were human drives, deeper urges.
What would fear unlock? Or hope? Or compassion? Love? Would he someday even channel something tied to life—or death? Something more?
A few answers had finally emerged.
But with them, a dozen more questions took their place.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the other side of the door. Hal sat up straighter, alert. A moment later, the door creaked open, and in stepped Dr. Gregor.
She looked tired, maybe even a little bruised—but alive, and still composed. Hal noticed the subtle stiffness in the way she moved, likely from their last encounter. She took her time closing the door behind her before turning to face him, arms crossed.
She didn't say anything right away. Just stared at him, as if waiting.
Hal broke the silence. "How long was I out?"
"Three days," she replied.
He raised an eyebrow. "And how'd you know I was awake? Hidden camera in my eyelid?"
"The wristband monitors your vitals. Heart rate, brain activity, stress levels," she said coolly. "I know when you wake up."
Hal snorted. "What, does it have a voice recorder too? Maybe some mood tracking? Maybe it transcribes my dreams?"
"No, it doesn't record your voice," Gregor replied flatly. "I have no interest in listening to you pee."
Hal blinked, surprised by the honesty. "Fair." He glanced at the band around his wrist. "Still, how does this thing even work? I mean, how can a bracelet stop someone from using powers?"
Gregor's expression softened slightly—just slightly. "It hijacks your neural network. We've studied which regions of the brain activate during power usage. The wristband disrupts those signals before they can trigger… whatever it is your body does."
Hal let out a low whistle. "Didn't think you'd actually tell me that."
"I'm your doctor, Hal," she said with a tired sigh. "Not your prison warden."
"Feels like a prison," he said, gesturing around the dingy room. "Cell and all."
She didn't argue.
"What about the girl?" Hal asked. "Illyana. What happened to her?"
"She's still here. In this building." Gregor nodded toward the wall behind him. "Remember the empty dorm you saw? You're in it now."
Hal frowned. "Why did she attack us? me, you?"
"I suppose you deserve the truth," Gregor said after a pause. "Illyana has powers that aren't mutant in origin. They're magical."
Hal stared at her.
"She learned the basics of the mystic arts before we found her. Spells, enchantments. That's why the wristband can't fully suppress her abilities. When she throws a tantrum, normal restraints don't work. So we've had to resort to… other measures."
"Such as?"
"Sedatives," Gregor said without hesitation. "They disrupt her concentration. Cloud her mind enough to stop spellcasting. It worked—until three days ago."
"And that's when she attacked you," Hal muttered.
Gregor nodded. "She snapped when she discovered the sedatives. Lost control. My employer brought her here by force—not like the others."
Hal narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"She was found after dismantling a human trafficking ring. Alone. She killed everyone involved." Gregor looked away for a moment. "When we arrived, I think she believed we were just more of the same."
Hal hummed, his gaze drifting toward the floor. It wasn't exactly shocking. Not anymore. But it was a version of Illyana's story he hadn't heard before.
"Then… why did she attack me?" Hal asked, his voice low. "She said something about me invading her mind."
Gregor folded her arms, her expression tight. "Because that was my fault."
Hal's eyes narrowed.
"Ever since you arrived, I've been trying to figure out what your abilities actually are," she continued. "One method I used... involved another resident. Danielle. Her ability creates illusions—visions drawn from a person's deepest fears. But she can't control it, not fully. Especially not when she's asleep and trapped in her own nightmares."
Hal's expression darkened as she went on.
"At night, I deactivated her dampener," Gregor admitted. "To see if her power would affect you."
"It didn't," Hal said flatly.
"I know," she replied. "I would've seen the reaction. But the thing is... her ability doesn't just target one person. Anyone nearby can be pulled into the illusion."
"Illyana," Hal muttered, cutting her off. "She was caught in it. Thought it was me because the nightmares started after I arrived."
Gregor gave a small nod.
"For a doctor," Hal said, his tone hard, "you're remarkably reckless."
Gregor didn't rise to the jab. Instead, she stepped closer, crouching until she was eye-level with him. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder—not forceful, but firm.
"Hal," she said carefully, "I've been honest with you about the accident. I haven't hidden what happened. Maybe it's time you did the same. If you know anything—anything—about how your powers work, I need you to tell me."
Hal met her gaze. "You think that earns you points? Transparency? That's not a kindness—it's the bare minimum. You get to walk out that door whenever you want. I'm the one locked in a concrete box. What you saw in those recordings, those spy cams, That's all you got."
Gregor exhaled sharply and stood again, brushing invisible dust from her coat. "You're not making this easy."
Hal tilted his head slightly. "Why do you need to know so badly? To write it in a report for your bosses?"
"To help you," she snapped, her composure starting to crack. "You think I'm the enemy. I'm not. I've been trying—really trying—to prepare you all for life out there. With your... abnormalities. The sooner you work with me, the sooner you walk out of this place."
"And send me where?"
Gregor rubbed her forehead, her patience fraying. "Fine. If you're choosing to be difficult, then sit here and think about your choices, Hal."
Without another word, she turned, opened the door, and stepped out. The lock clicked shut behind her. Her footsteps echoed down the hall, each one growing fainter until Hal was alone again—just him, the dim light, and the silence.