Author: Nageene Noor

The world through Viktor Blackford’s window was quiet. Hannibal always started with the window, and it became a habit like an anchor, before he let himself sink into Viktor’s home.
From where Hannibal observed, his whole life was mundane. Viktor was meticulously ordinary. Every evening, he cooked simple meals, worked at his laptop, and sometimes fell asleep on the couch with a book draped across his chest. Hannibal had seen it countless times, but tonight, the rhythm broke. The knife slipped in Viktor’s hand as he chopped vegetables, sending a chunk of tomato skidding across the counter. He muttered a curse and wiped his hands on his pants. Hannibal observed how unsteady he was. Every few seconds, his eyes darted toward the window, as though expecting someone, or maybe something. Something didn’t feel right, though he couldn’t explain why. But he wanted to, because he needed to, right? This was his purpose.To watch Viktor. To catalog his every word and movement. Abandoning his dinner, Viktor moved to his desk. He opened his laptop and hovered over an email marked urgent. Hannibal focused, catching fragments of the text in his hazy awareness: infiltration… containment failed… protocol breach. Those words…they were familiar, though he couldn’t place how or why. Hannibal noted every detail of frustration in Viktor’s face. All he knew was to try to piece together the puzzle of his own life, as well as Viktor’s. It was the only thing that still felt normal.
…Until it wasn’t.
“You’re there, aren’t you? Watching me.” Viktor spoke suddenly.
Hannibal froze. Viktor’s words slicing through the silence. The way he spoke sent a ripple of unease through him.
Viktor turned, his gaze sweeping the room as though he might catch Hannibal lurking in a shadow. “You’ve been here all along, haven’t you? Watching. Always watching.”
Hannibal wanted to respond, to explain, but he couldn’t. Words were beyond him, and even if they weren’t, what could he say? He didn’t understand his own existence, much less why he was bound to this man.
He moved to his desk, pulling open the laptop. The screen’s glow accentuated the dark circles under his eyes.
“You see it too, don’t you?” Viktor’s voice was almost a whisper. He hadn’t stopped typing, but his focus seemed to shift. “The cracks. The gaps in the story they’ve been feeding us.”
Hannibal recoiled instinctively. Did Viktor think he was actually there? Or was this just paranoia bleeding into a monologue?
Viktor returned to his laptop, his fingers hammering at the keys. The longer Hannibal stared at Viktor on his laptop, the louder the faint ringing in his mind grew.
“They will not listen. Their hunger for growth will consume everything if we do not intervene.”
The voice was almost emotionless, but the message clawed at Hannibal. A planet teetering on the brink of collapse. Oceans devouring cities. Skies strangled in ash. But aside from just being devastated, he felt sick in his stomach. Were we saving the planet, or claiming it?
“Whoever you are,” Viktor said, his voice rising, “I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure you out.”
Hannibal didn’t move. For the first time, he felt the weight of Viktor’s suspicion pressing against him. This wasn’t just about Viktor anymore. It was about him. Everything he had avoided for as long as he could remember.
“You will watch. You will listen. If they deviate, you must act. They cannot be allowed to destroy what remains.”
The words struck like a hammer. Hannibal’s purpose wasn’t benign. It wasn’t a curiosity. He was part of something larger, something horrible.
“You’re connected to them,” he said. “Aren’t you?”
Hannibal couldn’t deny it, not even to himself. The pieces were falling into place. He wasn’t just an observer. He was part of the species Viktor’s emails warned about, the ones threatening to destroy humanity in the name of salvation.
Viktor’s gaze lingered on the window, as though searching for an answer. Hannibal knew he should pull back, retreat into the shadows of his existence. But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t make himself do anything, aside from stay.