(SHATTERPOINT) THE GLAZE

Anakin Skywalker was a man like any other, and yet, Rebecca could intuitively see just how different he really was from every other man.

She had met powerful people before. That was hardly unusual in her line of work. Capes with enough raw force to flatten buildings, thinkers who could dismantle governments with a few whispered suggestions, and monsters wearing human skin so convincingly that entire worlds failed to realize what stood in front of them until it was far too late. Rebecca Costa-Brown had spent a decade and more around individuals who altered lives simply by existing.

Anakin Skywalker unsettled her anyway.

There was a presence to him that filled the room itself, subtle enough that she could not point to any single detail and explain why she felt it, yet impossible to ignore once noticed. It pressed at the edges of her awareness in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of standing near Eidolon during the first years of his career, when he had still seemed all-powerful.

Except this felt… more, for lack of a better term. And older, somehow.

Skywalker sat on the edge of the hospital bed when she entered, body relaxed but straight-backed in a way that looked habitual rather than intentional. The room around him was plain, almost aggressively sterile after the damage from Assault’s earlier outburst had been repaired. 

And somehow, despite everything, he still felt like the center of it.

Rebecca disliked that immediately. Her instincts rarely reacted this strongly without reason, and instincts had kept her alive far longer than most people understood. But she kept her expression neutral as the door shut behind her.

Skywalker looked up at the sound, his blue eyes settling on her with a calm attentiveness that made her feel studied in return. There was no visible tension in him despite the circumstances, no irritation at his confinement, and no trace of fear after what had happened earlier with Assault.

If anything, he looked tired.

Rebecca pushed the observation aside before it could linger.

“You’ve caused quite a situation,” she said.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. “I’ve noticed.”

His voice was level, softer than she expected from someone with his supposed history of violence, and that discrepancy bothered her more than overt hostility would have.

Rebecca remained standing rather than taking the empty chair near the bed. Small choices, even something like positioning, mattered in conversations like this. If she slipped even a little, she’d miss something important.

And she couldn't afford doing that. 

Contessa had started slipping because of him. That alone should have been impossible, and Rebecca still didn’t know what to do with the fact that it wasn’t. Especially since she understood the implications of that far too well to dismiss them as coincidence.

“You hid your abilities,” Rebecca said after a moment. “Why?”

Skywalker’s expression shifted slightly, though whether from amusement or simple recognition she could not tell.

“I didn’t hide anything.”

“That answer would be more convincing if multiple trained personnel hadn’t witnessed you freezing an entire room in place.”

“I stopped a man from making a mistake.”

Rebecca watched him carefully.

Most parahumans, when cornered with evidence of hidden capability, reacted in predictable ways. Some boasted. Others became evasive or hostile. Even the composed ones usually revealed something in posture or tone once the conversation turned toward power.

Skywalker did none of that.

“You understand why this concerns us,” she continued.

“You fear what you can’t explain,” he replied calmly.

Rebecca almost smiled at that. “You say that like it’s unreasonable.”

“It’s understandable,” he corrected. “That doesn’t make it wise.”

There was no accusation in the words. If anything, he sounded resigned.

Rebecca studied him in silence for several seconds.

He looked human in every observable way, flesh and blood and fatigue behind the eyes. A man sitting alone in a hospital room after days of interrogation and confinement. And yet every instinct she possessed still screamed that there was something profoundly wrong with viewing him through ordinary terms.

She disliked that more than she cared to admit.

“What are you?” she asked finally.

Skywalker leaned back slightly, gaze drifting toward the ceiling for a brief moment before returning to her.

“A force-user,” he said.

Rebecca waited for elaboration, but none came.

“A title means very little without context.”

“It means more where I come from.”

There it was again, that careful distance in his answers. He wasn't being evasive, but he was still selective with his words in a way that made it difficult to pin him down.

Rebecca folded her arms loosely behind her back.

“You appeared out of nowhere,” she said. “You possess abilities that do not resemble any known agent expression. A precognitive power we have relied on for decades reacts unpredictably in relation to you. Then today, you demonstrated enough control over your environment to invalidate every containment measure we currently possess.”

She held his gaze evenly.

“So yes, Mr. Skywalker. I would appreciate an explanation.”

For the first time since she entered the room, something flashed openly across his face: sadness, deep enough that it briefly aged him.

“You wouldn’t understand the context,” he said quietly.

Rebecca felt irritation stir within despite herself.

“Try me.”

His eyes held hers for a long moment.

Then he looked away first.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Anakin Skywalker admitted softly.