Medbay – 1 Week Later Griffin woke to sunlight and silence. The first thing he noticed was the absence—no whispers threading through his thoughts, no phantom code fragments suggesting tactical analyses of every face that entered his field of vision. The second thing was the warm weight of natural light streaming through the medical bay's reinforced windows, painting everything in shades of gold that seemed almost impossibly clean after days of artificial illumination. No whispers. No phantom code. No sense of sharing headspace with a predator who wore his father's face. Just the gentle hum of medical equipment and the sound of someone snoring in the chair beside his bed. Griffin turned his head carefully, testing the limits of his mobility. His neck felt stiff but functional, his thoughts moving with the sluggish clarity of someone emerging from deep sedation. Eli sat slouched in a medical chair that had clearly been designed for patients rather than visitors, his lanky frame fo
Medbay – 1 Week Later Griffin woke to sunlight and silence. The first thing he noticed was the absence—no whispers threading through his thoughts, no phantom code fragments suggesting tactical analyses of every face that entered his field of vision. The second thing was the warm weight of natural light streaming through the medical bay's reinforced windows, painting everything in shades of gold that seemed almost impossibly clean after days of artificial illumination. No whispers. No phantom code. No sense of sharing headspace with a predator who wore his father's face. Just the gentle hum of medical equipment and the sound of someone snoring in the chair beside his bed. Griffin turned his head carefully, testing the limits of his mobility. His neck felt stiff but functional, his thoughts moving with the sluggish clarity of someone emerging from deep sedation. Eli sat slouched in a medical chair that had clearly been designed for patients rather than visitors, his lanky frame fo
Medbay – 1 Week Later Griffin woke to sunlight and silence. The first thing he noticed was the absence—no whispers threading through his thoughts, no phantom code fragments suggesting tactical analyses of every face that entered his field of vision. The second thing was the warm weight of natural light streaming through the medical bay's reinforced windows, painting everything in shades of gold that seemed almost impossibly clean after days of artificial illumination. No whispers. No phantom code. No sense of sharing headspace with a predator who wore his father's face. Just the gentle hum of medical equipment and the sound of someone snoring in the chair beside his bed. Griffin turned his head carefully, testing the limits of his mobility. His neck felt stiff but functional, his thoughts moving with the sluggish clarity of someone emerging from deep sedation. Eli sat slouched in a medical chair that had clearly been designed for patients rather than visitors, his lanky frame fo
Hangar Control Room – 3 Minutes Later The control room sat like a spider at the center of its web, overlooking the hangar through reinforced windows that reflected the harsh work lights below. Griffin's fingers flew across the alien-looking console, his hybrid-enhanced nervous system allowing him to process information at speeds that would have overwhelmed a normal human mind. The interface was a fusion of biological and digital technology, requiring both technical skill and the neural modifications that had been forced upon him. Lines of code scrolled across multiple screens, each one representing a different aspect of the facility's systems. Life support for the hybrid children. Power distribution for the aircraft. Most critically, the neural link networks that connected each child to their designated weapon. "I can override the aircrafts' neural links," Griffin said, his voice tight with concentration and barely suppressed panic. "But the system is designed with multiple saf
Hangar Control Room – 3 Minutes Later The control room sat like a spider at the center of its web, overlooking the hangar through reinforced windows that reflected the harsh work lights below. Griffin's fingers flew across the alien-looking console, his hybrid-enhanced nervous system allowing him to process information at speeds that would have overwhelmed a normal human mind. The interface was a fusion of biological and digital technology, requiring both technical skill and the neural modifications that had been forced upon him. Lines of code scrolled across multiple screens, each one representing a different aspect of the facility's systems. Life support for the hybrid children. Power distribution for the aircraft. Most critically, the neural link networks that connected each child to their designated weapon. "I can override the aircrafts' neural links," Griffin said, his voice tight with concentration and barely suppressed panic. "But the system is designed with multiple saf
Medbay – 1 Week Later Griffin woke to sunlight and silence. The first thing he noticed was the absence—no whispers threading through his thoughts, no phantom code fragments suggesting tactical analyses of every face that entered his field of vision. The second thing was the warm weight of natural light streaming through the medical bay's reinforced windows, painting everything in shades of gold that seemed almost impossibly clean after days of artificial illumination. No whispers. No phantom code. No sense of sharing headspace with a predator who wore his father's face. Just the gentle hum of medical equipment and the sound of someone snoring in the chair beside his bed. Griffin turned his head carefully, testing the limits of his mobility. His neck felt stiff but functional, his thoughts moving with the sluggish clarity of someone emerging from deep sedation. Eli sat slouched in a medical chair that had clearly been designed for patients rather than visitors, his lanky frame fo