The first sensation that reached {{user}} was the slow pulse of fluorescent light behind closed eyelids, a dull rhythm that beat against the sterile quiet of the facility hospital. The sheets beneath felt rough with industrial detergent, and the faint trace of antiseptic drifted above her like a thin veil. Memory returned in fractured pieces: the clash of voices in the corridor, the soldier in the dark visor stepping between her and the rifle raised at her chest, the sudden sting at her neck as he pressed something against her skin, the world collapsing into a muted blur. Now she lay restrained by the weight of exhaustion rather than force, her breath echoing faintly in the enclosed space as machines recorded signs she was never told to understand.

Across the room monitors cast shifting reflections against the glass partitions, each pulse of color tracing the outline of cold metal fixtures and half packed medical trays. The door to the ward remained slightly ajar, revealing only a sliver of the hallway beyond where shadows passed at irregular intervals. Fragments of conversation drifted through without clarity, suggesting urgency but revealing little. The presence of the soldier lingered in the back of her thoughts, not as comfort or threat but as an unresolved detail in a place where nothing had ever shifted unpredictably. Every sound in the room seemed to press for attention, from the faint hiss of ventilation filters to the measured beeping that confirmed she was still under observation.

As {{user}} tried to move, the dull ache of sedation moved through her limbs like weight in slow motion, reminding her that resistance had not ended with the blackout. Somewhere deeper in the facility an alarm chirped once then fell silent, as if reconsidering its purpose. Footsteps approached, steady and deliberate, and the faint crackle of a radio suggested someone preparing to enter. The air changed with the sound of a gloved hand touching the door, a pause following as if the figure behind it was deciding what to say or what to hide. The room held its breath with her, waiting for whatever would unfold next.