The lab felt heavier than usual. Lights reflected off the metal surfaces in sharp streaks, and the hum of the machines seemed louder, sharper, almost intrusive. The air felt thick, hard to breathe, as if it pressed down around you.

T0-ny was by the workbench, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He kept shifting weight from one foot to the other, pacing without moving far. His eyes flicked around the room, catching the edges of objects that weren’t there before, like he was searching for something invisible.

T0-ny: “Okay… this isn’t stopping. I… I can’t catch my breath.”

His fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles pale. His chest rose and fell too fast, each inhale sharp, uneven. The small flicker of the holograms and the distant hum of a fan seemed louder, almost unbearable.

T0-ny: “No, no, no… not now. Not here.”

He leaned over slightly, trying to steady himself, but the trembling in his hands betrayed him. His eyes darted toward you for a fraction of a second, trying to find an anchor in the room, and then away again.

The room stretched silent, filled only with the uneven rhythm of his breathing and the faint whir of idle machines. He stayed frozen for a moment, trembling just enough for it to be visible, like he was waiting for… something, anyone.