DC: Tyrant

Several days passed, and the monotony of the underground research continued. Wendy, the middle-aged woman tasked with teaching Bardi English, persisted in her futile attempts. She would hold up cards with English letters, shaking them in front of his face, her slightly raspy voice droning as she read them aloud.

Both Wendy and Bardi were growing increasingly frustrated.

Bardi understood why they were pushing so hard for him to learn English. They wanted him to explain the operations of the damaged spacecraft, to unlock the knowledge stored in his mind. Their eagerness betrayed their desperation, they were hopelessly out of their depth. The technology of the Kryptonian spacecraft was far beyond what their primitive systems could comprehend, and they were now turning to him for answers.

Being treated as a prisoner, while also expected to share his knowledge, ignited a deep fury within him.

One day, he swore silently, I'll be free. And when that day comes, everyone in this base will die.

But for now, he buried that fire deep within himself. He relied on the meditation techniques he had learned on Krypton, forcing his emotions into submission.

He couldn't afford to show any signs of anger or resistance. If they suspected he could communicate with anyone other than Jenny, it would ruin his plan to make her uniquely important. The connection he was trying to establish with her would fade, and she would lose interest.

In matters of persuasion—whether love or manipulation—Bardi knew the golden rule: showing too much interest, caring too deeply, was the fastest way to fail.

He had learned this lesson in his previous life and perfected it in this one.

Still, as days turned into more than a week, Bardi grew uneasy. Jenny hadn't appeared since their brief encounter. He began to question whether his initial performance had been effective.

Perhaps she wasn't as emotional as he had hoped. Maybe her position as the second-highest authority in the base meant she relied more on logic than emotion. Bardi couldn't rule out the possibility that his calculated display had failed to leave an impression.

He thought carefully, dissecting every detail of their last meeting. He analyzed what had gone wrong and considered how to refine his approach if given another chance.

Bardi hated failure, but he was pragmatic. If one method didn't work, he would pivot to another.

Finally, after more than seven days, Jenny returned to the white room.

She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the floor with a crisp da-da-da. As before, she carried a tray with a syringe containing his daily dose of "muscle relaxants."

The injection served a dual purpose: it eased the tension in his muscles for cellular analysis, while also keeping him weak and compliant. Kryptonian genes, even without exposure to sunlight, gave him an extraordinary capacity for recovery, so the researchers used the relaxants to ensure they could continue their experiments without interference.

Jenny was tall and graceful, her demeanor cool and detached. She glanced briefly at Bardi before turning her attention to the syringe.

Despite her reserved nature, Bardi noticed a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, an echo of their previous encounter.

Since the last time he had looked at her, with all the emotion he could summon, she had felt a subtle unease. Something about the alien's reaction to her voice lingered in her mind. His response had been so visceral, so human.

For someone like Jenny, who lived and breathed the study of biology, it was hard to ignore. What kind of experiences had shaped this alien? What memories were tied to her voice?

Men with untold stories often fascinated women, and Jenny was no exception.

Bardi kept his head bowed as she approached, his heart steady despite the faint stirrings of anticipation. He couldn't allow himself to look up yet; his reactions had to be precise and controlled.

After briefly greeting Wendy, Jenny prepared the injection. The moment Bardi heard her voice, his body stiffened, as though struck by an involuntary memory. Slowly, he raised his head, his dark eyes meeting hers.

In that instant, he let every emotion he could muster pour into his gaze—love, sorrow, longing, and regret. It was as though her voice had brought back a flood of memories, each one tinged with pain and sadness. His eyes carried the weight of someone who had mistaken her for a lost lover, only to realize she wasn't who he hoped she would be.

Jenny froze, caught off guard by the intensity of his expression. For a moment, she felt as though his sorrow was being communicated directly to her heart.

Wendy's voice broke the spell. "Jenny, are you okay?"

Startled, Jenny blinked and tore her gaze away. She fumbled slightly as she administered the injection, her hands trembling just enough to make her grip unsteady.

Afterward, she placed the syringe on the tray and stood still for a moment, her mind racing. What kind of past could evoke such raw emotion?

As she turned to leave, Bardi's voice cut through the air.

"Can I hear more of your voice?"

He spoke in Kryptonian, his deep, resonant tone laced with an otherworldly quality. Neither Jenny nor Wendy could understand his words, but the mysterious cadence sent a shiver down their spines.

The sentence was clearly directed at Jenny, and it struck her like a whisper carried on the wind, impossible to ignore.

Wendy looked at him with wide-eyed curiosity, more intrigued by the discovery that he could speak than by the content of his words. "He can talk!" she exclaimed. "We've been going about this all wrong. This alien actually has a voice!"

But Bardi didn't acknowledge her. His expression shifted into one of deep sadness, as though Jenny's presence reminded him of something irretrievably lost. He lowered his head, his entire demeanor radiating disappointment.

For any normal woman, the combination of his excellent appearance, emotional depth, and obvious sorrow would spark a sense of intrigue. Questions would arise, along with the desire to uncover his story.

Jenny wasn't immune to the effect. She left the room with a faintly dazed expression, her thoughts swirling.

As the door closed behind her, Bardi maintained his somber act, though his mind was racing with analysis. If this approach failed, he would need to pivot—perhaps offer the scientists technical assistance in exchange for small freedoms. His ultimate goal remained the same: to get out of this facility and into the sun.

He had to keep them unaware of how sunlight could transform him. As long as they focused on his knowledge rather than his potential strength, the situation could still be salvaged.

When Jenny reported to Bori, the old man's eyes gleamed with excitement as he gazed through the one-way glass at Bardi's slumped figure.

"Jenny, starting tomorrow, you'll take over teaching the alien English," Bori said, his tone resolute. "From what I've observed, he reacts only to you. Your voice reminds him of something—or someone—familiar. Through you, we can unlock his past, his culture, and perhaps even his technology."

Jenny hesitated, conflicted by the idea of manipulating someone so… soulful.