Medbay, Island Stronghold – 48 Hours Later
The neural stabilizer's rhythmic beeping was the only sound in the medical bay as Griffin's synapses struggled to rebuild connections without their artificial scaffolding. The machine's display showed his brain activity in cascading waves of blue and green—chaotic but increasingly stable as his organic neural pathways reasserted themselves after years of technological domination.
"The overload fried sixty percent of your implants," Maria said, adjusting the IV drip that fed a cocktail of neural growth factors and anti-inflammatory drugs into Griffin's bloodstream. Her voice carried the clinical detachment she'd perfected during years of underground medical practice, but Griffin could see the concern in her eyes. "The good news is that your organic brain architecture is intact. You'll recover, but..." She paused, checking his pupil response with a small flashlight. "Your enhanced processing capabilities are gone. Permanently."
Griffin flexed
