The morning light filters through the thin curtains, casting pale slants across the dorm room. It feels out of place, that brightness, as though the world outside continues in blissful ignorance of what transpired just hours ago. Lucy stirs, slowly waking, and I make sure my face is the perfect mask of serenity when she looks over.
"Morning," she mumbles, her voice soft and raspy from sleep.
"Morning." My voice is calm, casual, as if I'm just like everyone else—just like her.
I rise from my bed, stretching, making the movements seem deliberate and easy. Lucy doesn't need to see the tension that coils beneath the surface, the storm that simmers quietly behind my eyes. She doesn't need to know what's really going on. That's the beauty of this facade: the world sees only what I want them to see.
Lucy gets up, already absorbed in her thoughts. She's always thinking, always lost in whatever story she's writing in her mind. I envy that simplicity sometimes. It must be nice to live in a world where the greatest battles are fought with words on a page. My battles are different. My war is waged in silence, in shadows, where no one can see the true cost.
As Lucy disappears into the bathroom, I lean back against the desk, staring out the window again. The passenger is quiet for now, content with the night's work, but I can feel its restlessness growing. It's never satisfied for long. The thrill of last night has already started to fade, and with it comes a creeping sense of… boredom.
The darker side is very specific from what I understand. Sasha wasn't a saint, she was much, much darker. The day Lucy got hurt was the day I did my research. Her name was all I needed. She actuality attended the same college I do now however, there's more too her character then what meets the eye.
Articles, upon articles, and collective information about a female who matches her description. Going on a rampage of sexuality assaulting and murdering children. A bit surprising huh? I knew the other one would like destroying her. She was a bad person and bad people need to be punished. That's how the world works, revolves, it's how life is and how it should be.
That's the thing about the passenger—it's never truly content. There's always something more it wants, some new challenge, a fresh test. Sasha was necessary, but she was too easy. She was vulnerable, weak in comparison to what I'm capable of. And now that I've tasted the thrill of control again, the passenger urges me to seek something greater.
I've spent my entire life manipulating those around me, pulling the strings from behind the curtain while they dance to my tune. It's become second nature to me now, this subtle play of influence, of control. But what if I could go further? What if I tested myself against someone more formidable, someone with power, influence, someone who could pose a real challenge?
The thought takes root in my mind, and I can't shake it. The passenger is purring again, pleased with this new idea, urging me forward. It's a game, after all, isn't it? A game of power, of intellect, of control. And I've always been good at games.
Instead of pleasing the other me, I must please V first. I believe the government is the highest form of intelligence. So, as one can imagine becoming a detective, or an aft forensic chemist; something crime related with a sense of mystery, patience, and importance could provide an alibi for the other side. However, this means for one of the first times in my life, I must try.
I need to be noticed this time, ironic if you'd ask me. Luckily, in my university once every 6 months around the beginning of the year, men of law come and see who are the brightest minds within campus. They arrive to see who will work in some field following the law, and why do they wish to. The hour and thirty minute test you must take seems easy at first sight, but isn't as it seems. First I leave the dorm to take the test, then all that's left to do is to wait. Wait for the opening I need.
"Where did you go?" Lucy says casually trying to hide her carrying.
"I had to do a test" I say, somewhat truthfully.
The intercom system turns on,
"V You are needed at the main office, someone is here to see you."
What's that for? "She asks, now not hiding her curiosity."
"I have no clue".
a tiny white lie I must tell. Im sorry I can't tell you the truth, its just you're not ready yet. You can't know the otherside. To be fair, I barley know it either. After arriving at the office three tall men in black and white suits, and one in regular clothes appear. The three in suits sit behind him on the resting chairs, almost like bodyguards.
"Oh there he is!"
The man in front says.
"Hello?"
I say hiding my interior emotions.
The man in front steps forward, his smile unassuming but his eyes sharp, assessing. "V, I presume?" His voice is warm but carries an edge, a subtle test wrapped in politeness.
"That's me," I reply, letting a faint smile touch my lips. I meet his gaze directly, but not challengingly—just enough to suggest confidence, nothing more. Appear competent, but not too eager. Interested, but not desperate. It's a delicate line to walk.
He extends a hand. "Agent Miller," he says. "We've been reviewing some of your work. Impressive." He holds my hand a little too long, his grip firm, as if gauging my reaction. I return the pressure just enough to match. It's a handshake, after all, not an arm-wrestling match.
"Thank you." I let the compliment hang between us, giving him the satisfaction of believing I'm flattered. Inside, I feel the passenger's excitement flare. This could be the opening I'd been waiting for—a chance to play on a larger stage, to see just how far I could push my influence.
Miller studies me for a moment longer, then releases my hand, nodding to the others. "We're here today for a rather unique recruitment. A few exceptional students with a keen mind for analysis, investigation, and… unconventional thinking." His lips twitch, a slight smirk.
The passenger coils within me, fascinated. This might be exactly what I need—a perfect blend of control and cover. But I need to tread carefully; one wrong step and all this unravels.
"And you think I qualify?" I ask, letting just a touch of genuine curiosity slip into my tone.
"Qualify?" Miller's smile widens. "Let's just say, V, that from what we've seen, you're exactly the type of mind we're looking for."
There's a flicker in his eyes, something I recognize—an awareness, almost a glint of kinship. Does he suspect something? I watch him closely, noting his choice of words, his careful phrasing, wondering just how much he knows, or thinks he knows.
The men in suits behind him are silent, watching me just as intently. They remind me of hawks—sharp-eyed, poised, ready to swoop in at the slightest misstep. But I'm not one to slip. Not easily, at least.
Miller gestures to a seat across the table from him. "Let's sit for a moment. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright."
I nod, settling in across from him. The passenger stirs restlessly, intrigued by the challenge unfolding before us. In my mind, this isn't just a test of intellect—it's a game of strategy, one that I intend to win.
Miller leans forward, studying me with that same, piercing gaze. "V," he says, voice low, "how do you feel about secrets?"
The question catches me off guard, if only for a split second. But I recover quickly, offering him a thoughtful smile. "Well, Agent Miller," I reply, choosing my words with care, "secrets are only as powerful as the person who keeps them."
He chuckles softly, a sound of approval. "Indeed."
Miller leans back, crossing his arms as he regards me with a sense of quiet satisfaction. "The world we deal in, V, is built on secrets. Layers upon layers. The right kind can protect lives; the wrong kind can destroy them." His eyes narrow, testing me with every word. "Which, in your opinion, makes a secret valuable?"
The passenger is listening intently, curious, like a predator watching its prey. I allow a moment to pass, pretending to consider my answer. In reality, the answer is already there, waiting to be spoken. "A secret's value lies in how it can be used," I say smoothly. "Whether it strengthens or weakens depends on who holds it and how it's wielded. In the right hands, it's a tool. In the wrong hands…" I trail off, letting him fill in the blanks.
Miller's expression darkens, but a glimmer of respect lingers in his eyes. "Precisely. And the key to wielding a secret is understanding that it doesn't belong to anyone. It exists only as leverage. A tool to shape outcomes, to influence people, even when they're unaware of it."
This, I know all too well. My entire life has been a careful construction of secrets and manipulation, shaping the world around me without anyone suspecting the hand behind the scenes. But I simply nod, playing the role of the eager student. "I can see why you've come here looking for students like me."
Miller's eyes linger on me with renewed intensity, his gaze sharp as a scalpel. "Are you familiar with the nature of our work, V? What we do for the government?"
I allow a brief pause, letting the curiosity bloom across my face. "I'd imagine it involves analysis, intelligence… maybe even fieldwork?" The last part I add with a touch of uncertainty, as though I'm only guessing. In truth, I know exactly what he's hinting at—these men live in a world of shadows, just as I do.
Miller tilts his head, studying me. "Fieldwork, yes, but it's not the kind you'd see in the movies. It's about precision, patience, and most importantly, maintaining a cover. One small misstep can ruin years of preparation." He leans forward again. "Do you understand that, V?"
I meet his gaze, feeling the passenger pulse with excitement. This is exactly the kind of game it thrives on. "I understand, Agent Miller," I say, my voice steady, even. "And I think I'm exactly who you're looking for."
The silence stretches, and I wonder if I've overstepped, if perhaps the confidence in my voice was too much. But then, slowly, Miller nods. "Good. Because once you're in, there's no going back. If you join us, we'll demand everything from you—your time, your loyalty, your secrets. Can you handle that?"
"I can." I don't hesitate. The passenger hums with approval, savoring this new layer of control that I'm grasping at. This isn't just a chance for a career or prestige—it's an opportunity to expand the reach of my influence, to test myself against an entirely different caliber of minds.
Miller rises, the conversation seemingly concluded, but there's an edge of finality in his voice as he says, "We'll be in touch, V. And when we are, be ready."
I nod, standing as well, feeling the weight of what he's offered settling onto my shoulders. It's not a burden; it's a thrill. This is exactly the opening I've been waiting for. As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflective glass on the office door—a calm, unassuming college student with no secrets at all.
But inside, I know better. This is just the beginning, and the passenger and I are ready to play.
I leave the office, stepping into the bright hallway, already feeling the tension unwinding, but only slightly. Outside, everything is normal. Students move about, laughing, rushing, complaining about assignments or upcoming exams. It's almost surreal to slip back into this world after that conversation, to pretend that I'm still just one of them.
As I walk, I can feel the passenger lurking just beneath my thoughts, already spinning possibilities. Miller thinks he's recruited me, but he's only given me the opening I was looking for. An opportunity to refine my skills, to access resources and people I could have only dreamed of before. This isn't just about gaining power—it's about mastering it. About seeing how far I can push before someone notices.
I head back to the dorm, slipping through the door quietly. Lucy's there, sitting cross-legged on her bed, a notebook open in her lap. She looks up as I enter, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to piece together what I've been up to.
"You were gone a while," she says, not even attempting to hide her curiosity this time.
I shrug, tossing my bag onto my bed with a casual ease. "Just a meeting with some guys in suits," I say, letting the words sound unimportant, like it's something that happens to me every day.
Lucy raises an eyebrow, a smile playing at her lips. "Some 'guys in suits,' huh? Sounds important."
"Not really," I say, keeping my tone light. "They just wanted to see if I was interested in… some career opportunities." I glance over at her, watching as she absorbs that. I can tell she wants to ask more, but she's careful, hesitant, as though sensing that there's something just beneath the surface that she's better off not touching.
She finally nods, her curiosity tempered with a kind of quiet acceptance. "Well, just don't go disappearing on me. I need someone to remind me to eat when I get too lost in my writing." Her voice is soft, genuine, and there's something almost grounding in the way she speaks. It's strange, the effect she has—a reminder that, for all the games I play, there are still real connections I have to maintain.
"Don't worry," I say, smiling as I settle onto my bed across from her. "I'll be here. Who else is going to make sure you don't starve?"
Lucy laughs, and the sound is easy, unguarded. For a brief moment, the passenger is silent, content to let me play the role of a simple college student with a roommate, just two people coexisting in their own little world.
But as we fall back into the rhythm of ordinary conversation, I feel the weight of what lies ahead settling over me. Miller's call will come, and when it does, I'll need to be ready to walk a careful line, balancing this life and the one they're inviting me into.
The thrill, the danger of it, all feeds the passenger's hunger, sparking a restlessness that I'll have to keep carefully hidden. And Lucy, she can never know. She's part of my cover, a reminder of normalcy, a shield I can use to deflect any suspicion that might arise.
In the meantime, though, I let myself sink into the present, listening to her talk about her latest story ideas, nodding in the right places, smiling when she laughs. Here, I'm just V, her roommate, her friend. But beneath the surface, there's something far more calculating—a mind in constant motion, already playing out the next moves of a game I'm determined to win.