Hal had no idea how much time had passed inside the concrete box. Ten hours? Twenty? It could've been more. There were no outdoor windows, no clocks—just the dull hum of silence and the ever-present cold of the walls around him. All he could do was lie there, eyes fixed on the stained ceiling, letting his thoughts circle like vultures.
It wasn't unbearable. Not really. He was used to this kind of solitude. Months spent bedridden in a hospital had dulled the edge of isolation. If anything, that had been worse—hooked up to machines, alone, no one to talk to but the flickering TV on the wall. This? This was just quieter.
The only interruption came when food slid through the slot in the door—bland, lukewarm, forgettable. Delivered in silence by Gregor herself. She never said a word. Not a glance, not a nod. Just left the tray and vanished.
Hal eyed the wristband on his arm. Still active. The red light confirmed it. The dampener was fully engaged, and Gregor clearly had no plans to deactivate it anytime soon. But now that he knew how it worked—interfering with the neural signals that triggered his powers—he wondered: Could it be bypassed?
Maybe, if the signal from his brain was strong enough, focused enough, and with willpower, it could push through.
He sat up slightly, lifting his hand in front of him. He visualized something simple, something familiar. A mug. Plain ceramic, chipped at the rim. He imagined every detail—the shape, the weight, the way it felt in his grip. He focused hard, jaw clenched, forehead tensing with effort. Willpower surged.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—green sparks. Fleeting. A brief shimmer of a construct began to form in his palm before flickering out of existence, as if reality rejected it at the last second.
But Hal didn't frown. He didn't curse or slump in frustration.
He smirked.
"If there's a will, there's a way," he muttered to himself.
It wasn't much, but it was something. A crack in the wall. A loophole. That could maybe be used later.
With nothing more to do, Hal laid back again, hands folded behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling. Not thinking. Not planning. Just waiting.
A sudden, thunderous bang echoed from across the hall, jolting Hal from his empty thoughts. It was followed by a string of curses—sharp, guttural, and in a language he didn't understand. He raised a brow, then shifted his attention to the door, eyes lifting to the small barred window above it.
"Hello?!" he called out. "Someone in there?!"
No reply.
Another loud crash, then more muttered foreign swearing.
"Hey!" Hal shouted again, louder this time. "Can you hear me?!"
Finally, a voice snapped back, laced with irritation. "Shut up! Just shut up!"
Hal blinked, then grinned faintly. "Illyana? That you?"
"What part of 'shut up' don't you get?!" she yelled.
He leaned his head back with a sigh, still smiling. "What did the doc do to you? Tie you up or something?"
"You talk too much!" she spat, pure venom in her voice.
"Did Gregor tell you everything?" he asked, undeterred. "I told you, I didn't lie. I didn't cause those dreams. It wasn't me."
"I said shut up!" she roared—and this time, the outburst came with another violent slam of something hitting metal. More curses followed, just as aggressive, just as incomprehensible.
Hal couldn't help it—he chuckled, letting the sound echo off the cell walls. Typical.
With a sigh, he laid back down and resumed his usual pastime: staring at the ceiling. The noise didn't stop, of course.
But then, the noise stopped.
At first, Hal perked up, curious. But after a few seconds of silence, he let his shoulders relax and leaned back again. Probably just wore herself out.
That's when her voice came through—calmer now, no yelling, no cursing. Clear as day through the barred window.
"Hey, new guy."
Hal glanced toward the door but didn't move. "Yeah?"
"That dampener on your wrist," she said. "Is it still active?"
"It is," Hal replied. "Why? Planning to ask for my help busting out? After you're the reason why I'm here in the first place?"
"If you're expecting an apology, you will not get one," Illyana said flatly, "But if you can help, I'd be... grateful."
Hal scoffed. "Right. And then what? You walk into a hail of turret fire and get turned into Swiss cheese?"
"I've fought demons that make the turrets look like toys," she said, punctuating her words with one last frustrated kick at her door. "This place wouldn't last five minutes if I can get out of this… contraption."
Hal fell quiet. Illyana Rasputina. Magik. Demon queen of Limbo. He didn't know the full story of this version of her, but from the sound of it, some things hadn't changed. And if she still held dominion over that hellish realm, maybe she really could tear through this facility like wet paper.
"Alright," Hal said. "Let's say you do escape. Then what?"
"What do you mean, 'then what'?"
"I mean us," Hal continued. "You break out, vanish through a portal, and leave the rest of us behind? Let us get hunted down by whoever's funding this freak show?"
Illyana didn't respond immediately. The silence stretched a little longer this time.
"…How do you know what my powers are?" she finally asked. "Did the doctor tell you?"
"Something like that."
"That bitch," Illyana growled. "I will not abandon you. I kill everyone behind this. Even the doctor."
"Oh, really?" Hal whistled, half amused. "What if she's working for the government?"
"So?" she scoffed. "I kill the president too."
Hal let out a laugh. "You're funny."
"I'm not joking."
"I know," he said with a grin. "That's what makes it funnier."
Silence again. Just for a moment.
"So," she finally said. "What will it be, new guy? You help me or not?"
Hal sighed, his voice a little softer this time. "Look. If you're serious about getting out of here, you've gotta listen. We can't just blow through the walls and hope for the best—we need a real plan and information if all of us want to survive what comes after we escape. We need to find out who's funding this place, and if we do have a real chance of avoiding them once we got out of here."
"I do not understand what that means."
"It means," Hal said, slowly, "you play the part of a model resident. Wait out your solitary. Mine will end before yours—I'll gather what I can on the outside, and when I see the chance, we escape. Shouldn't be too long, I know some of my powers now."
A pause.
"I'm not waiting," she said firmly.
"Then enjoy kicking your door," Hal said with a shrug, waving lazily at the ceiling as if she could see him.