The door clicks shut behind Miller, but the weight of his presence lingers in the dim light of the cell. I can still feel the tension in the air, the unspoken questions that hang between us like a thick fog. Miller may think he holds the upper hand, but in this stifling space, I can sense the cracks forming in his resolve.
I lean my head back against the cold wall, the concrete rough against my skull, and let my thoughts drift. Two weeks of isolation have been a test—one that I've endured not just physically, but mentally. The hunger gnaws at my insides, but it's the psychological games they play that truly wear me down. I've felt the darkness creeping closer, but I've also felt something else—a flicker of defiance that refuses to be extinguished.
Miller's words echo in my mind: "You're just a young man with delusions of grandeur." I chuckle to myself, the sound hollow in the emptiness of the cell. What does he know of grandeur? What does he know of ambition and the darkness that fuels it?
I remember the way he looked at me, the brief moment of uncertainty that flashed across his face when I mentioned Graves. Miller is caught in a web of his own making, believing he can control me, believing he can extract what he needs without consequence. But what he fails to realize is that the darkness that lies within me is not a weakness—it's a weapon.
I sit up straighter, the chains clinking softly as I move. The shadows around me seem to shift, and I embrace the feeling, letting it seep into my bones. I'm not just a prisoner here; I'm a force of nature, a storm brewing beneath the surface. If Miller thinks he can break me, he's gravely mistaken.
The door opens again, and this time it's not Miller who walks in. It's someone else—another suited figure, a man I don't recognize. He approaches with an air of authority, and I immediately feel the tension in the room shift. This one carries himself differently, with a sense of purpose that makes me wary.
"V," he says, his voice smooth but lacking warmth. "I'm here to ask you some questions about your association with Graves. I hear you've been quite resistant."
I lean back, crossing my arms defiantly. "You're all the same. Lock me away, starve me, and you think I'll just spill my guts? You have no idea who you're dealing with."
He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, I think I have a good idea. But let's cut to the chase. You're not just a pawn in this game; you're a potential threat. And threats need to be managed."
I scoff, the sound bitter on my tongue. "Managed? You think you can manage me? You're underestimating the power of what you're trying to contain. The darkness inside me isn't just a threat—it's a part of me. And it's hungry."
His expression hardens, but I can see the flicker of unease in his eyes. "You're playing a dangerous game, V. We don't need to break you; we just need to understand you. What you carry is not just power; it's a burden. And burdens can weigh you down."
"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" I retort, leaning forward. "That you're doing this for the greater good, that you're some kind of savior? You're not saving anyone. You're just a man hiding behind a badge, just like Miller. You think you're better than him, but you're not."
He steps closer, narrowing his gaze. "I'm not here to play games. You need to understand the stakes involved. This isn't just about you anymore; it's about control, about keeping the darkness at bay."
A smile creeps onto my lips, a dark, twisted joy at the thought. "Control? You're trying to control something that can't be contained. You think you can starve it out of me, but you're only feeding it. The more you push, the stronger it becomes."
He hesitates, and in that moment, I see a flicker of doubt cross his face. "You're not invincible, V. You have weaknesses, just like everyone else. You have to question whether you're right in doing this. Is it worth it?"
The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. I can feel the weight of it, the truth it carries. I've questioned my own humanity more times than I can count, but the darkness has always felt like a part of me, something I can't simply cast aside.
"Am I right?" I echo, letting the words roll off my tongue
"You could make this easy," he says completely shrugging my previous words. His tone one of forced patience. "Tell me what you know about Graves, about his powers. You might even get your life back. Cooperate, and we'll find a way to deal with… whatever it is you're carrying inside you."
I let out a low chuckle, though it's rough, dry, the sound of a man half-broken. "You think this is me cooperating? If you knew what I really am, you wouldn't be sitting here. You wouldn't have the nerve."
Miller's expression flickers, the faintest trace of unease crossing his face. "Maybe you're more like Graves than I realized. He was stubborn too, willing to resist until the end. But you're not him. You're just a young man with delusions of grandeur. And if I have to keep you here until you finally crack, I will."
Something inside me ignites—a flicker of desperation mixed with determination. The darkness I've been keeping at bay stirs, urging me to act, to take control. In a split-second decision, I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the folder in his grasp.
Miller flinches, instinctively pulling back as I close the distance between us. I can see the surprise in his eyes, but it's the fear that lingers just below the surface that stirs something within me. I grasp the edge of the folder, trying to yank it away, but he holds tight, our eyes locking in a moment of tension.
"You're afraid," I hiss, my voice low and intense. "You're afraid of what I might know, what I might become. You think you can control me, but you're losing your grip."
Miller's face hardens, but I can see the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. "You think this is about fear, V? This is about power. You're playing a dangerous game."
I lean closer, the adrenaline coursing through me. "And you're the one who thinks he's holding all the cards. But you don't see it, do you? You're just as caught in this web as I am."
With a sudden surge of strength, I pull the folder from his hands, flipping through the pages as I search for anything that might give me leverage. I can see his frustration growing, the tension in the air thickening. He's not as composed as he pretends to be.
"Let's see what you've got here, Miller," I say, my voice steady as I scan the documents. "What do you really know?"
He watches me closely, his expression a mask of control. "You're wasting your time. Those documents won't save you. You're still trapped here."
I look up, meeting his gaze head-on. "Am I? Or are you the one who's trapped? You're just a man, hiding behind a badge, pretending you're the one in control. But deep down, you know you're just as vulnerable as I am."
Miller's jaw sets, and I can see the internal struggle playing out in his eyes.
The tension hangs thick in the air, and for a moment, it feels as though the world outside the cell has faded away. It's just us—two combatants in a battle of wills, each trying to assert dominance in our own way. I can see the flicker of doubt in Miller's eyes, and I relish the momentary shift in power dynamics.
"V," he says, his voice low, almost pleading. "You're not as clever as you think. You're still in chains—literal and metaphorical. What do you hope to achieve by playing this game?"
I take a step back, still clutching the folder, and let out a mirthless laugh. "What do I hope to achieve? Knowledge, Miller. Information is power, and right now, you're sitting on a goldmine of it. But you're too busy pretending to be the arbiter of justice to realize you're just a pawn in a much larger game."
His eyes narrow, and I can see the gears turning in his mind. "You think you're some kind of puppet master? You're underestimating the forces at play here. Graves is a threat, and you're connected to him. You could help us bring him down if you'd just cooperate."
"Help you?" I scoff, flipping through the pages again. "You think I owe you anything? You're the one locking me in a cage, treating me like an animal. You're more concerned with your own agenda than understanding the real danger."
Miller leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You've been in this cell long enough to know that the world is not as black and white as you think. There are shades of gray, and it's in those shades that you'll find your own humanity."
His words strike a chord, and I feel a brief flicker of doubt creeping in. Am I really losing my humanity? Is the darkness consuming me? But I push the thought aside, steeling myself against it.
"Humanity?" I challenge, my voice rising. "What does that even mean to you? You wield your authority like a weapon, enforcing your will on others while pretending you're the one in control. You think you're saving people, but you're just feeding the cycle of fear. You're no better than the monsters you hunt."
I can see the shift in his demeanor, the way the facade of confidence begins to crack. "And what if I am? What if I've become the very thing I despise?" His voice wavers, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability that was carefully hidden beneath layers of bravado.
"Exactly," I say, leaning closer, the taste of victory sweet on my tongue. "You're questioning your own humanity now, aren't you? You've lost sight of your purpose, all in the name of control. You think I'm a threat, but maybe the real threat is you—what you've become in the pursuit of power."
He shakes his head, frustration etched deeply across his features. "You don't understand the stakes, V. I'm doing what I have to do to protect people, to keep the darkness at bay."
I let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and mocking. "Protect? Or control? You've convinced yourself that you're a hero, but deep down, you know the truth. You're terrified of what you can't understand, just like everyone else in this place. You think you're saving the world, but every moment you spend holding me here, you're losing a piece of yourself."
Miller's gaze flickers, and I can see the internal conflict raging within him. "What if I'm right?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. "What if I'm making the hard choices for the greater good?"
"Hard choices?" I echo, my voice dripping with scorn. "You mean choices that justify your fear? You're playing a dangerous game, Miller, and you're losing sight of what it means to be human. You're so consumed by your need for control that you're blind to the reality around you."
In that moment, I see the realization dawn on him. The veneer of authority begins to crack, revealing a man grappling with his own demons. "What if I've become the monster I swore to fight?" he whispers, the question hanging heavily between us.
I take a step back, watching as the weight of my words sinks in. "You need to decide, Miller. Do you want to be a hero, or do you want to be a tyrant? Because right now, you're teetering on the edge of both."
His eyes search mine, and I can see the war waging within him. In that moment, I know I've struck a nerve. The darkness I carry isn't just mine; it's echoing within him. He later retreats further into his man hole. Attending to his own problems, while I sit alone. Yet, yet again.