BLOODCAPE
Chapter 90 – Threads and Triggers

Chapter 90: Chapter 90 – Threads and Triggers

The door hissed shut behind him with a hydraulic sigh.

For three full seconds, Hernan didn’t move.

Not a breath.Not a twitch.

Then — finally — he exhaled.

It wasn’t exhaustion. It wasn’t relief.It was containment, slowly released. A pressure valve easing open, just enough to keep the structure from cracking.

He took two steps into his private dorm and stopped again, letting the quiet wrap around him like a sterile sheet. The room was spare, utilitarian — a bed with a high-efficiency thermal pad, a desk with an embedded holoscreen, a mirror above a shelf of data crystals, a single recessed vent whispering airflow.

Clean. Controlled. Deceptively empty.

He unclasped the collar of his uniform. Let it loosen. Let his chest rise once. Deep. Measured.

Then he moved to the center of the room and sat cross-legged on the floor.

His eyes closed.

Not to meditate.

To replay.

"Tell me what you want."Leo’s voice — calm, weighted. The way a lion might ask a question it already knew the answer to.

"Safe answer."A trap. Framed to sound dismissive, but engineered to provoke elaboration.

"Tell me about Vano Sector."Not a request for fact — a request for reaction.

"Odd. Your instincts feel... inherited."A thread being pulled.

"There’s a quote. From Solaris."The knife. Slipped in slow, watching for the wince.

Hernan’s fingers flexed slightly against his knees, as if warming up for a piano he hadn’t played in years.

He remembers Solaris.Not just what he did — what he said.

Leo is testing me because something doesn’t line up. Not yet. But he’s close.

Hernan opened his eyes.

The room hadn’t changed.

But now it was an enemy.

He stood. Moved to the wall vent.

From a hidden fold in his wrist cuff, he slid out a thin, flat tool. One twist, two flicks — the grate loosened.

Inside, nestled behind the airflow coil, sat a dot no larger than a beetle. Black. Matte. Facing downward and forward.

Level Two surveillance bug.

Not official security. Not high-grade Zodiac.

This was watch-and-see tech. The kind that said: We’re not sure what you are, but we’re going to find out.

He extracted it carefully. Set it on the desk.

Then turned to the mirror.

Standard issue. Plain. Harmless-looking.

But Hernan had tested it days ago. Its reflection shimmered slightly in infrared — not visible, not obvious. But detectable.

Active surveillance glass.

He leaned in. Let his eyes find his own reflection.

The face of Rook Vale stared back: clean-cut, bright-eyed, full of unrealized promise.

He tilted his head. Just slightly. Whispered:

"I know you’re there."

No response.

He smiled. Slightly.

And left it alone.

Back at the desk, he opened the bug’s casing. Crushed the transmitter between two fingers. Dropped the shell into the disposal chute.

One removed. One left intact.

Let them think they still had a line in. Let them relax. Let them watch.

He sat again. Opened a new journal file on the holoscreen.

His fingers hovered over the keys — deliberately hesitant.

Then he typed:

Today changed everything. He chose me.

Pause. Flex. A faint tremble — not real. But real enough.

I didn’t expect it. I’m scared. But I have to prove I belong.

He stared at those words. Five full seconds.

Then hit save.

He stood.

Moved to the bed.

Crossed his legs again. This time, mimicking breath cycles. Shoulders soft. Head lowered.

Held it.

One minute.Two.Five.

Then slowly, he raised his head. Looked at the mirror.

In the corner, a red pinlight pulsed.

Acknowledged.

Later.

The synthetic trees swayed in artificial wind. A slow, programmed rustling — enough to simulate calm. The dome sky overhead pulsed violet, scattered with digital stars and a few glinting satellite trails.

Hernan sat alone beneath the canopy.

Back straight. Hands loosely folded in his lap.

To anyone passing, he looked like a cadet in reflection. A young hero processing a legendary moment.

But inside, his thoughts were razor-wired.

Leo’s words still hung beneath his ribs.

The second cleanest kill is the one they regret recognizing too late.

That hadn’t been nostalgia. That had been a provocation.

He knows I’m not just a cadet.But not who.Not yet.

Footsteps approached behind him. Soft-soled. Light. But direct.

He didn’t turn.

"I wasn’t sure if I should say anything," said Tessa’s voice.

"But you came anyway," he replied.

"I always hated people who watched from the sidelines."

He looked up then. Half-turned.

She stood a few paces back, arms loosely crossed. Eyes wary, not hostile. Dressed for the chill, but not armored.

"I’m not exactly sociable tonight," he said.

"You’ve been unsociable every night."

She sat beside him. Not close — a respectful distance. Just within reach of honesty.

They sat in silence as a drone zipped past overhead, soft and nosy.

"You looked like someone else up there," she said.

He didn’t answer.

"With Leo," she added. "That wasn’t pride or nerves. That was..."

She trailed off.

He prompted. "What?"

"You looked like someone being claimed. Not chosen."

He met her gaze. "And that bothers you?"

"It confuses me."

He shifted slightly — just enough to seem less guarded.

"Why did you come?"

"To know if I was imagining it."

"Imagining what?"

"That you’re pretending."

He smiled faintly. "Everyone’s pretending. Even you."

"I’m not pretending to survive. You are."

The words landed like stones dropped into a still pool.

He blinked. Once. Slowly.

"You’re observant."

"I’m terrified."

That surprised him. She didn’t look it. But fear didn’t always look like trembling.

"My sister died two years ago," she said. "Zodiac mission. Friendly fire. They sent her transfer papers three days after she was vaporized."

He didn’t move.

"She wanted to be picked," Tessa whispered. "Just like you."

Hernan nodded. "And now you’re trying to figure out why someone like me would want that."

"Yeah," she admitted. "Because if Leo had touched me like that, I would’ve flinched."

He stared up at the motionless leaves.

"They touch you like they own you," he said. "But it’s only because they know they can’t."

Tessa’s gaze narrowed. "That’s a strange thing to say."

"It’s a stranger thing to believe."

She stood slowly, brushing off her pants.

"You’re not what you say you are," she said.

"I say very little."

"Exactly."

She turned to leave.

Halfway down the path, without looking back, she said,"Be careful, Hernan. They watch everything."

He remained still.

The breeze simulation stopped. The trees stilled.

But above the canopy, tucked against the dome’s curve, a single drone hovered.

Longer than it should have.

He tilted his head.

Looked directly at it.

And smiled.

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