Amy stood by the window, arms folded, watching the wind move through the trees outside Bendo’s apartment. The light from the city flickered against her face, shadows dancing along her sharp cheekbones and violet eyes. Jason watched her from the corner of the room — curious, respectful, silent.

She hadn't said much since he arrived. But now, as if she sensed his thoughts, she turned toward him.

“You’re wondering how I got my powers,” she said softly.

Jason nodded. “Bendo said you weren’t normal either.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “I wasn’t always... like this.”

She moved to the couch and sat down beside him, voice low, thoughtful.

Amy had always been brilliant. She was the kind of girl who solved math puzzles in her head and read scientific journals for fun. But she was also quiet — not because she lacked confidence, but because the world often failed to understand her.

There was one thing she never told anyone — she loved to sing.

It was a secret part of her. Her voice was powerful, beautiful, almost unnatural in its purity. But she never sang in front of people. Not even her parents.

Until that day.

She thought the park was empty. It was just before sunset, and the golden hour light filtered through the trees as she sat on a bench, humming to herself... then letting it flow. Her voice echoed lightly through the trees, soft and haunting.

And then — clap clap clap.

She gasped, spun around, startled.

Bendo stood leaning against a tree, grinning like a kid who’d just discovered buried treasure.

“I— I thought I was alone,” she said, blushing furiously.

“Well, you weren’t,” Bendo said. “And thank god for that. That was... beautiful.”

Amy tried to laugh it off, tried to hide behind shy deflections. But Bendo kept showing up. Kept listening. Kept asking her to sing again.

Eventually, she did. Again and again.

Soon, their friendship turned into something more. She wasn’t sure when it shifted — maybe it was the day he stayed late helping her record a song on her phone. Maybe it was when he defended her from kids at school who mocked her quiet nature. But it happened, and it felt real.

Then, with his encouragement, she took the biggest risk of her life: she sang at the school talent show.

People recorded it. It spread.

By the time she turned sixteen, Amy was famous. Viral videos, interviews, a small record deal. Her name trended online. Her voice was compared to angels.

She was finally living her dream.

Until the day it all fell apart.

It started with a cough. Then her throat would hurt after every rehearsal. Within weeks, her voice began to crack. Her breath control collapsed. Doctors were puzzled — they called it a rare degenerative laryngeal condition. No known cure.

Amy couldn’t sing anymore. Could barely talk. Her world collapsed.

Her parents were shattered. Their daughter, once on the path to global stardom, now sat in silence, crying behind closed doors.

Then, one night, her mother made a desperate decision.

She met someone. A woman. No name, just a voice. She offered a “miracle” drug — untraceable, unofficial, experimental. From a source called X.

Her mother didn’t ask questions. She accepted.

Amy took the drug.

The results were immediate. Her voice came back — stronger than ever. Stronger than any human voice had a right to be.

At first, she was overjoyed. Then the effects grew... unstable.

She discovered that her voice could shatter glass. Collapse walls. Cause waves in water. She could scream and bring men to their knees. She could see sound.

X had changed her.

And then — they came.

Three hunter drones descended on her home the night after her first “incident.” Black metal. Red optics. Quiet as shadows.

Amy screamed, and the windows exploded.

But they kept coming.

She was cornered, terrified, losing control.

And then Bendo burst through the wall.

Magnetic pulses crushed one drone into a cube. Gravity folded inward, slamming the second into the earth like a meteor. The third bot got one shot off — but it bounced uselessly off an invisible field.

When the dust cleared, Bendo helped her to her feet. She was crying.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered.

“Neither did I,” he said. “But you’re not alone.”

Amy looked back at Jason now. Her voice calm, but firm. “They ruined my dreams. But they gave me something else. Power.”

Jason studied her quietly. She looked like a storm wrapped in silk — dangerous, and beautiful.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked.

Amy turned back toward the window.

“Whatever it takes.”