CHAPTER TWO: THE ANOMALY

Thomas Calvert prided himself on control. Every variable accounted for. Every outcome anticipated. That was the promise of his power—complet

Thomas Calvert prided himself on control.

Every variable was accounted for, and every outcome was anticipated. That was the promise of his power: complete and total foresight. A thousand simulations tested in tandem, each path explored before the first step was even taken.

It was what made him Coil.

And it was what made this… infuriating.

He rubbed his temples as another migraine spiked like a hot nail behind his eyes. The headaches had been increasing ever since the boy arrived.

Harry Potter.

That was the name the subject had whispered to the girl—his ‘pet’—during those late-night murmurings. He’d thought no one was listening, had thought the walls didn’t have ears. He was wrong.

Sensitive electronics shorted out in his presence, but whatever field caused the disruption seemed contained within the walls of his cell, like the rest of him.

Coil leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the digital readout flashing across his tablet.

Observation Log — Subject: H.P.
• Exhibits localized telekinetic discharge under stress.
• MRI scans: Negative for corona pollentia.
• Physical capacity: Baseline human.
• Hypothesis: manifestation of an extra-dimensional or reality-warping ability outside standard parahuman classification.

Yet every time Coil split the timelines to press further, his power failed.

Timeline A: Standard interrogation. Calm, with slight arrogance to keep the subject flat-footed.

Timeline B: Controlled electrocution, applied incrementally.

Result: Timeline B collapsed within seconds.

The subject didn’t resist, yet the timeline failed, as if some external anomaly distorted the branch on contact. The issue wasn’t noncompliance, he realized. It was incompatibility. Reality stuttered around him.

And then there was the girl.

. . . . .

Dinah Alcott sat curled in the padded recliner of the recovery room, IV lines feeding a slow drip of sedatives into her frail arms. The machines tracked what they could—heart rate, blood pressure, and neurological activity—none of it accounting for the deterioration every usage of her power caused now.

Coil stood behind the one-way glass, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. His pet twitched in her seat, her dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.

“Ask again,” he ordered into the intercom.

The speakers blared.

Her voice was slurred, groggy from the drugs. “P-Probability he escapes in the next t-twenty-four hours…”

A long pause ensued, almost too long. Her eyes rolled back, and her pupils dilated unnaturally.

Then…

“E-Error. D-divide by z-zero. C-can’t—”

She gagged mid-sentence and bent over, blood spilling from her nose.

Alarms flared on Coil’s tablet, flashing red as her vitals spiked. He didn’t move to comfort her, content to stare at the girl as her powers glitched. It was exactly what happened when he had tried to simulate Potter’s future with his own power, if a bit less detrimental to his health.

This needed further testing, but tentatively, it seemed the boy was immune to Thinkers. 

. . . . .

Harry pressed his ear to the vent, straining as voices drifted through, tinny and distorted by the distance.

“—boss wants the monster sedated before—”

“Shut your mouth,” another voice hissed. “You know he hears everything.”

A snort. “Whatever. That thing’s been twitchy since the new guy arrived.”

Monster?

Harry’s stomach turned. He didn’t need Dinah’s warnings to know they weren’t talking about him. Or maybe they were; Muggles could be awfully prejudiced. 

The vent creaked, metal groaning. A whisper slid through, soft and shaking.

“Don’t ask about her,” Dinah murmured. “Seventy-nine point three percent chance he punishes me if you do.”

Harry kept his voice low, though his words came out as a snarl. “What can you tell me?”

A pause. Then, even softer:

“Y-you break the numbers. The monster feels it too.”

Suddenly, a shudder ran through the floor. The entire facility groaned like something ancient waking from sleep. And from deep below, a roar shook the foundations. Neither human nor animalistic, but a mix filled with hunger, fury, and pain.

The lights flickered.

The vent rattled.

Harry’s scar—long dormant and long healed—burned with something far stronger than pain. 

Recognition.

Whatever they were keeping down there... it knew he was here. And it wanted him.

. . . . .

Pandemonium erupted. Alarms screamed across the control deck as vital signs for Subject N. spiked beyond threshold. Containment was still holding, but barely.

A panicked voice crackled through the comms. “Boss, we’ve got a problem. Subject N is really active.”

Coil didn’t answer, he already knew. He felt it like a splinter in the base of his skull.

In his office, he reached for the only thing that ever gave him clarity, and split the timelines.

Timeline A: Order evacuation.
Timeline B: Deploy the Travelers to hopefully calm her down.

His power glitched again, harder this time.

The backlash made his vision blur, a trickle of blood escaping his nose. The timelines shuddered, bent, and then folded like paper against pressure.

He tasted copper.

Enough.

“Alright then,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Time for a better idea.