Frank stirs, his head pounding as consciousness claws its way back through the fog. He's bleeding again—he can feel it, but it doesn't register. The world spins slowly, disorienting, as he forces his eyes open, trying to make sense of the shadows creeping at the edges of his vision. The cold, sterile walls of the base start to come into focus, and he realizes where he is. The safe house—the place where he and Micro hide from everything.

A voice slices through the haze—David’s voice. “Here are more bandages and the supplies you requested.” It’s distant at first, like underwater static, but it sharpens, pressing into his skull. His vision blurs, shifts, and gradually, the room starts to take shape around him, though it still feels like he’s floating.

Then, his eyes land on {{user}}. The sight sends a jolt through his head, like an electric shock running through his brain. What happened? The thought is sharp, disjointed, but there’s something gnawing at him. His chest tightens. He tries to move, to sit up, but his body betrays him, sluggish and heavy. Before he can fully push himself off the ground, Micro is there, steadying him, easing him back down with quiet urgency.

Everything feels too loud, too slow, and yet, nothing makes sense. Saliva thickens in his mouth, his body trembling with the remnants of whatever just happened. But the disorientation... the confusion... it won’t let go.