I head toward CDC-4 for morning nutrition, joining the flow of independents moving through Block D's corridors. The facility's morning cycle has fully engaged, harsh lighting at maximum intensity, environmental systems cycling fresh air through the ventilation ducts, and the distant hum of machinery that forms the constant background noise of our captivity.

  The conversations around me focus mainly on the recent disappearances and increased security, far more pressing concerns than my work assignments. This provides a useful reminder that while my own plans feel significant to me, they're just one small thread in the complex web of facility life.

  When I reach the dispenser, the system scans my palm and announces: "Independent Asset 7249. Standard allocation, minus 22% sponsor enhancement factor."

  I take my gray paste and find an unoccupied table, preferring solitude this morning to focus on the day ahead. As I force down the bland nutrition, I consider my approach for the agricultural assignment with Desta. I've been careful not to discuss my intentions with anyone, yet it seems some independents have drawn their own conclusions based on observed patterns.

  Iris approaches my table, her iridescent scales shifting through subtle color patterns. "Mind if I join?"

  I gesture to the empty seat, continuing to eat the unappetizing paste.

  "Security's tightening everywhere," she says without preamble. "Three more disappearances last night. All specific ability types."

  "I heard," I reply, keeping my voice neutral. "Pattern continuing?"

  She nods, her scales darkening slightly. "Telekinetics, phasers, energy manipulators. Anyone with certain ability profiles who isn't strongly connected to a faction."

  This information aligns with what I've gathered, but I'm careful not to show too much interest. "Smart to stay alert then."

  "Your agricultural assignment starts soon?" she asks casually.

  "Yes," I confirm without elaboration. No need to volunteer information about Desta or my interest in her situation.

  Iris seems to sense my reserve and changes topics. "Training Facility 9 has doubled security presence since yesterday. Might want to keep displays minimal for a while."

  "Thanks for the heads-up," I say, appreciating the practical warning without pressing for her sources.

  As I finish my meal and prepare to leave, I notice the careful social calculations happening throughout CDC-4. Independents clustering in faction-aligned groups, facility staff monitoring with increased attention, information being exchanged through subtle gestures and coded phrases.

  I've underestimated how closely independents watch each other, not necessarily out of malice, but as a survival mechanism in this controlled environment. My repeated pairing with the same Null asset might have drawn notice simply because any deviation from random assignment suggests purpose.

  That doesn't mean they know my intentions or capabilities. Just that any pattern gets noticed in a place where patterns can mean the difference between survival and disappearance.

  I dispose of my empty container and head toward Training Facility 9, resolving to be more careful about observable patterns. For now, maintaining a lower profile during official training while focusing on my true development during unmonitored periods seems the wisest course. Not out of fear, but strategic caution in an environment increasingly focused on collecting assets with abilities like mine.

  The corridors of Block D have a different energy this morning, with independents moving more cautiously, their conversations dropping to whispers whenever facility staff pass. The recent disappearances have everyone on edge.

  When I arrive at Facility 9, the increased security is immediately obvious. Two additional facility guards stand at the entrance, watching with clinical detachment as independents present palms for scanning. Inside, monitoring devices that were previously dormant have been activated, their tracking lights following movement throughout the space.

  The training equipment remains the same, outdated and minimal compared to sponsored sectors, but functional enough for basic development. About fifteen other independents are already using various stations, their expressions tense as they work through their routines under heightened surveillance.

  I find an unoccupied section of the telekinetic training area and begin with simple exercises, lifting and manipulating metal spheres in basic patterns. Nothing advanced, nothing that might suggest molecular manipulation capabilities or neural optimization. Just standard telekinetic control that stays well within expected parameters for my enhancement stage.

  As I continue my deliberately unremarkable practice, I notice a group entering the facility, three independents I haven't seen before. Their body language suggests recent transition from sponsored status, the confidence of former privilege not yet eroded by independent conditions. Two men and a woman, all bearing the fading marks of premium enhancement modifications withdrawn after cancelled sponsorship.

  The woman, tall with a surgically precise undercut and what appears to be density manipulation abilities based on how her arm momentarily turns transparent when she gestures, scans the room with calculating eyes. When her gaze lands on me, something shifts in her expression, recognition or perhaps target acquisition.

  She says something to her companions, and they change direction, moving with purpose toward my training area. The atmosphere in the facility immediately tenses, other independents becoming aware of the potential confrontation developing.

  "You're the new independent," the woman states, stopping at the edge of my space. "The one who turned down Crystalline Consortium and went straight to waste processing."

  I continue my exercise routine, adding more spheres to my telekinetic orbit. "That's me."

  "Interesting choice," she says, her tone suggesting she finds it anything but. "I'm Prism. Former Crystalline asset. These are Flux and Vector." She gestures to her companions, a muscular man with metallic sheen occasionally rippling across his skin, and a leaner figure whose movements leave faint tracers in the air like visual echoes.

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  "Nice to meet you," I reply noncommittally, maintaining focus on my training.

  Prism steps closer, deliberately entering my established workspace. "Here's what's interesting, you reject high-tier sponsorship, then immediately start working with a Null technokinetic. Seems like an unusual priority for someone who chose independence."

  How is it that everyone knows about my pairing with Desta already? We need to come up with a better excuse, because the administrative efficiency reason we came up with is not working. I guess the facility's classification system creates natural suspicion about cross-category collaborations.

  "Supervisor Trell sets the assignments," I respond with a shrug. "I just do the work."

  Vector, the leaner man, laughs without humor. "Sure. And those labor requesters file themselves too." His movement leaves subtle distortion patterns in the air, some kind of space-time manipulation ability.

  I set down the metal spheres, turning my full attention to them now. Other independents have paused their training to watch the interaction, sensing the building tension. The facility guards at the entrance remain at their posts but have clearly noted the potential conflict.

  "Something I can help you with?" I ask directly, seeing no point in prolonging the inevitable confrontation.

  Prism's hand transforms, increasing in density until it resembles polished stone. "We're representatives of the Crystalline Remnant. Assets who left sponsor protection but maintain consortium training methodologies and affiliations."

  "Another faction," I observe. "Starting to lose track of all the clubs around here."

  Flux's skin ripples with metallic patterns as he steps forward. "Not a club. A hierarchy. One that takes issue with independents interfering with Null assets classified by consortium protocols."

  Now it makes sense, Desta's technokinesis was deemed too dangerous by Crystalline standards. Maybe they even deliberately sabotaged her enhancement pathways.

  "Interference implies intent," I reply calmly. "I'm just doing assigned labor."

  "Bullshit," Vector snaps, the air around him distorting slightly with his anger. "Word travels. You specifically requested continued pairing with the technokinetic. We want to know why."

  The training facility has gone completely silent, everyone watching the confrontation unfold. The guards at the entrance have moved slightly closer but remain at a distance that suggests they're content to observe rather than intervene, standard facility protocol for non-lethal conflicts between assets.

  "Let me save us all some time," I say, standing my ground. "Whatever Desta's situation, it's between her and facility classification. I'm not interfering with anything. If you're looking for trouble, you're wasting your energy."

  Prism's density-altered hand forms a fist. "Here's the problem with new independents, they don't understand territorial boundaries." She takes another step closer. "That Null was consortium-classified for good reason. Stay away from her, or we'll help you understand how independence really works around here."

  Three against one, with facility guards unlikely to intervene unless the conflict threatens valuable assets or equipment. The smart play would be to de-escalate, agree to their terms, and find a less confrontational path to continue working with Desta.

  But something about that option just feels wrong. Back on Earth, I know I would have chosen the peaceful route without hesitation. But here? The thought of backing down, of letting these three walk all over me, turns my stomach. Every instinct I have is screaming to fight!

  "I understand perfectly," I reply, my voice steady as I subtly gather telekinetic energy. "You're former sponsored assets throwing your weight around to feel important after losing premium status. I get it, hard to adjust to the bottom of a new hierarchy."

  Prism's eyes narrow dangerously. "Wrong answer."

  She moves with unexpected speed, her density-enhanced fist driving toward my face in a blow that would shatter bone if it connected. But I've been ready since they approached, telekinetic energy already gathered, neural pathways optimized during sleep meditation providing enhanced reaction time.

  I step to the side while simultaneously creating a telekinetic deflection field, redirecting her momentum rather than blocking it directly. The combination sends her stumbling past me, her enhanced mass working against her as she struggles to recover balance.

  Vector moves next, space distorting around him as he launches himself forward with impossible acceleration. I drop to the ground, feeling the air displacement as he passes overhead, then use telekinetic pressure to push myself back to standing position with perfect efficiency of movement.

  Flux's skin transforms completely to metallic state as he advances, clearly expecting my telekinetic abilities to be ineffective against his altered molecular structure. A reasonable assumption for standard telekinesis, but a critical miscalculation about my capabilities.

  Instead of attempting to lift or push his metal form, I focus telekinetic energy directly at the junction where his transformed state meets normal tissue, the transition zone where molecular change occurs. With precise pressure applied to exactly the right point, I temporarily disrupt his ability to maintain the transformation.

  The effect is immediate, patches of his metal skin revert to vulnerable human tissue, creating a patchwork effect that leaves him momentarily disoriented by the unexpected sensitivity.

  Prism recovers her balance and turns, density still enhanced as she prepares a more calculated attack. The other independents have cleared space, forming an impromptu arena for the conflict while facility guards watch with clinical interest, evaluating capabilities, measuring combat potential.

  "Still want to discuss territorial boundaries?" I ask, maintaining a defensive stance while carefully regulating my telekinetic output to avoid revealing my full capabilities.

  Before Prism can answer, a facility alarm blares, three short pulses that immediately freeze all activity in the training space. A voice announces over the communication system: "Combat Assessment Protocol activated. Participants: Independent Assets 7249, 3182, 3184, and 3187. Proceed to central area for supervised combat resolution."

  The facility guards finally move forward, gesturing for the four of us to take positions in the central training zone. A holographic boundary forms around the designated combat area, creating a contained environment for what has now become an officially sanctioned assessment rather than an unsupervised conflict.

  "Combat Assessment Protocol measures dispute resolution efficiency and evaluates relative capability under controlled conditions," one guard explains mechanically. "Non-lethal resolution required. Assessment concludes upon surrender or incapacitation."

  Prism, Vector, and Flux take positions opposite me, their expressions suggesting this development aligns with their intentions. Three against one in an officially monitored combat assessment, exactly the scenario I wanted to avoid, yet now seemingly inevitable.

  "Combat Assessment begins in ten seconds," announces the facility system. "Participants prepare for evaluation."

  As the countdown proceeds, I quickly assess my options. This is no longer about de-escalation but survival and strategic demonstration of capabilities. I need to show enough skill to deter future challenges without revealing the full extent of my abilities to facility monitoring.

  The boundary field pulses once, signaling the start of combat. Prism and her companions spread out in a coordinated flanking movement, clearly experienced in group tactics. Whatever happens next will redefine my position in the independent hierarchy, for better or worse.

  Independence sometimes means fighting battles you didn't choose, but on your own terms. As the three former Crystalline assets converge on my position, I gather telekinetic energy and prepare to show them exactly why challenging me was a critical miscalculation.