Hazel's fingers danced across holographic interfaces, cycling through various local online channels. Her search pattern was methodical, filtering through social media, local news feeds, and obscure internet forums. The displays - what she would have once called cyberpunk back when such technology seemed extraordinary, but now were simply her standard work environment - shifted with each query, breaking apart and reassembling data streams in complex geometric patterns.

A forum post from a small logging community near Mount Rainier caught her eye. Unusual tree damage reports - not typical logging or storm-related destruction, but something more precise. Bark stripped in geometric patterns that suggested intentional, almost surgical modification. She cross-referenced the post with local forestry service reports, geological survey data, and satellite imagery.

The @RoofTopTechie TikTok video flickered into her peripheral view. The capture was low-resolution, details murky and indistinct. Without hesitation, she routed it through multiple video enhancement processors, knowing the initial quality would reveal little.

A satellite imagery overlay revealed subtle land contour anomalies near the logging community that didn't quite match geological survey records. Nothing definitive, but enough to warrant a more detailed investigation.

Hours passed. Her neural interface tracked multiple data streams, filtering, cross-referencing, building complex relational maps that would look like incomprehensible chaos to an untrained observer.

When she finally turned her full attention to the processed TikTok video, the enhanced version revealed little more than the original. And yet, something about it tugged at her subconscious - an almost imperceptible irregularity that defied immediate analysis but demanded attention.

The figure in the video moved with a precision that seemed just slightly beyond natural human movement. Not dramatically so, but just enough to ping her internal warning systems.

She isolated the frame, running it through another set of filters. The movement was subtle - a leap that carried just a fraction more distance than physics would typically allow. No ordinary viewer would notice. But Hazel wasn't an ordinary viewer.

Her fingers moved, expanding the video frame by frame. The individual capturing the footage - @RoofTopTechie - seemed to be an HVAC technician working on a rooftop. The subject of the video had appeared suddenly, moved impossibly, and disappeared just as quickly.

Hazel began compiling a preliminary report, her neural interface seamlessly organizing the fragments of data. Something about this warranted closer examination.

You're right. We should either add a reference to Alex's work earlier or make this the first mention. Let's modify the scene to make this a natural first introduction of his background activity:

Behind her, the rear section of their modified vehicle hummed softly. Alex was hunched over a workbench, carefully manipulating a piece of specialized equipment. The metallic components suggested something more complex than a simple tool - a piece of gear with strategic implications.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, not looking up from his work.

Hazel's fingers paused over the holographic interface. "Possibly. @RoofTopTechie video. Potential movement anomaly."

Alex shifted slightly, setting down a precision tool. His attention was now fully on Hazel, though his hands remained near the partially assembled device.

"Location?" he prompted.

"University of Washington administrative area rooftop," Hazel responded. Her neural interface pulled up a street map, marking the precise location. "HVAC technician captured the footage. Looks like an impromptu recording."

She isolated a specific frame, expanding it for closer examination. The figure's movement - just slightly beyond normal human capability - hung suspended in digital space.

"Familiar?" Alex asked, wiping a smudge of machine oil from his hand.

"Nathan," Hazel confirmed. Her tone was neutral, analytical. Not accusatory, just observational.

Alex set down the tool he'd been using, giving the video his full attention. "How much exposure?"

"Limited," Hazel replied. "TikTok video. Small local following. But these things spread quickly." Her fingers danced across the interface, tracing potential viral pathways.

The map expanded, showing clusters of potential shares and views. Most concentrated around the university campus and immediate Seattle area. But the potential for wider distribution was clear.

"We'll need to monitor," Alex said. It wasn't a suggestion, but a statement of fact.

Hazel nodded, already running multiple tracking algorithms. The video would be watched, its potential ripple effects mapped and analyzed. Nathan's moment of carelessness would be carefully monitored and managed.

Alex leaned closer to her display. "Local campus chatter?" he asked.

Hazel's fingers made a quick gesture, expanding a subset of social media feeds. Campus discussion boards, student group chats, the unofficial UW subreddit - all potential breeding grounds for viral content.

"Initial reactions are curiosity," she reported. "Some calling it a hack, others a special effects test. No serious traction suggesting genuine belief in the impossible."

Alex leaned in, studying a particular thread. "Kids these days are more skeptical than people give them credit for," he muttered.

"Skepticism doesn't always prevent spread," Hazel noted. Her tone remained flat, analytical. "Viral content follows its own unpredictable logic."

Alex traced a finger through the holographic projection, his movement causing the light-constructed pathways to ripple and recalibrate. Translucent blue-white lines shifted, reconnecting in new patterns as his touch disrupted their original configuration.

Hazel's interface shifted, pulling up a brief timeline of Nathan's recent activities. The abrupt departure from his computer science lecture, the rooftop incident, now this viral video - each a data point suggesting increasing instability.

"He's struggling," Hazel observed. Not a judgment, simply a statement of fact.

"Everyone adapts differently," Alex said. His voice carried a weight of understanding, hinting at experiences not yet detailed. "Some more dramatically than others."

The holographic map pulsed softly, information vectors spreading and contracting. Alex studied the display, his fingers occasionally tracing potential paths of digital transmission.

"We'll keep monitoring," he said, then turned back to the piece of equipment on his workbench, his attention immediately refocusing on the precise work before him.

Hazel nodded, her attention already shifting to the next potential concern. The video would be watched, tracked, but not immediately acted upon. Nathan was still one of theirs, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The early morning fog clung to the streets of Seattle as Izzy arrived at the AMR (American Medical Response) station near Harborview Medical Center. The station, a converted warehouse space, buzzed with the quiet energy of shift change. Ambulances lined up in neat rows outside, their interiors visible through open rear doors as crews performed thorough checks of their equipment.

Izzy moved with practiced efficiency towards her assigned rig, her movements a blend of professional routine and an underlying intensity that set her apart from her fellow EMTs.

She adjusted her uniform, her hand unconsciously brushing against the folding knife secured at her belt - a constant companion she never went without.

The sword within her pulsed softly in agreement with her current environment. This station, positioned to serve one of Seattle's busiest medical districts, was precisely the kind of place that aligned with her deeper purpose.

Her partner, Jerome Williams, was already at the ambulance, clipboard in hand. "Morning, Iz," he greeted, using their familiar shorthand. "Ready to run through the checklist?"

"All set," Izzy responded, her movements precise as she began to inspect their medical supplies. A subtle tension beneath her surface suggested something more than a routine shift awaited her.

The morning briefing would start soon in the station's common area. Another day of potential emergencies, another opportunity to serve - though service meant something different to her now than it had before.

As Izzy and Jerome worked through their equipment checklist, other EMTs and paramedics filtered into the station. The air filled with the quiet murmur of conversations, the clink of coffee mugs, and the rustle of uniforms.

"Alright, people, gather 'round," called out Samantha Chen, the shift supervisor. Her voice carried the weight of authority tempered by years of field experience. The room quieted as the team assembled for the morning briefing.

Izzy took her place among her colleagues, her posture alert, eyes focused. Years of intense training had honed her senses to a razor's edge. She noted the slight tension in a rookie's shoulders, the barely perceptible nod between two seasoned paramedics - details that might escape a less observant eye.

"We've got potential for a busy day," Samantha began, her gaze sweeping across the assembled team. "Seattle PD has informed us of planned protests downtown. Coupled with the usual morning rush, we need to be prepared for anything."

As Samantha ran through the day's assignments and potential hotspots, Izzy felt a familiar tension building within her. The sword's presence was a quiet weight, dormant but ever-present. Its power lay largely inactive while contained, but Izzy knew she could rely on her own formidable skills honed through years of practice and experience.

Jerome leaned in slightly. "You look ready for anything," he whispered, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Izzy nodded, her focus unwavering. "Always," she replied softly.

The briefing concluded, and the teams dispersed to their assigned rigs. Izzy and Jerome climbed into their ambulance, settling into their seats as Jerome started the engine.

As they pulled out of the station, the radio came to life with the day's first calls:

"Unit 23, respond to a minor MVA on I-5 southbound, near exit 165."

"Unit 12, we've got a fall victim at the Sheraton, 6th Avenue."

"Unit 8, assist Seattle PD with a welfare check, Yesler Terrace."

Jerome navigated through the increasing morning traffic, while Izzy monitored the MDT. The city was waking up around them, each neighborhood presenting its own potential challenges.

As the radio chatter filled the cab with a steady stream of assignments, Izzy and Jerome settled into their routine. Jerome navigated the morning traffic with practiced ease, while Izzy's eyes alternated between the MDT and the passing cityscape.

"Looks like the protest downtown is already drawing a crowd," Jerome commented, nodding towards a group of people with signs gathering near City Hall.

Izzy hummed in agreement. "Could get dicey later. We should keep an eye on it."

They passed a fender bender, another ambulance already on scene. Jerome shook his head. "Tuesday morning and people are already having a day."

"Speaking of," Izzy said, reaching for the thermos between them. "Did you remember to fill this?"

Jerome grinned. "Extra strong, just how you like it. You can thank me later."

Izzy took a sip and nodded appreciatively. As they turned onto First Avenue, the familiar sights and sounds of Pike Place Market came into view. Street vendors were setting up their stalls, the first tourists of the day already milling about.

"Remember that call we had here last month?" Jerome asked. "The guy who thought he was having a heart attack but just ate too many ghost pepper samples?"

Izzy couldn't help but chuckle. "How could I forget? My eyes were watering just being near him."

Their banter was interrupted by the radio crackling to life with their assignment. As Jerome flicked on the sirens and accelerated towards their destination, Izzy's demeanor shifted, her focus sharpening on the task at hand.

As they turned onto First Avenue, the familiar sights and sounds of Pike Place Market came into view. Street vendors were setting up their stalls, the first tourists of the day already milling about.

"Remember that call we had here last month?" Jerome asked. "The guy who thought he was having a heart attack but just ate too many ghost pepper samples?"

Izzy blinked, momentarily disoriented. For her, that call felt like a lifetime ago - because it was. She struggled to recall the specific incident Jerome was referencing.

"Right," she said, covering her lapse with a nod. "That was... quite a case."

Jerome glanced at her, a slight furrow in his brow. "You okay, rookie? You seem a bit off today."

The term 'rookie' stung more than Izzy cared to admit. She had years - subjective decades - of intense experience under her belt now. But here, in this ambulance, she was still the new kid on the block.

"I'm fine," she assured him, her voice steady. "Just focused on what's ahead."

Nearly twenty minutes into their shift, their unit was finally called:

"Unit 17, we've got a code 3 response needed at Pike Place Market. Possible cardiac event."

"Unit 17 responding," Izzy replied, her voice steady and professional.

Jerome flicked on the lights and sirens, and the ambulance accelerated, weaving through traffic. As they sped towards Pike Place, Izzy's mind sharpened, focusing on the task ahead.

As they approached Pike Place Market, the morning crowd was already in full swing. Tourists and locals alike filled the walkways, creating a maze of activity that Jerome had to carefully navigate.

"Dispatch said possible cardiac event," Izzy noted, her mind running through protocols. "Any additional info on the patient?"

Jerome shook his head. "Nothing yet. We'll know more when we get there."

They pulled up to the market's main entrance, where a small crowd had gathered. A police officer was already on scene, waving them over to a spot where they could park.

"Showtime," Jerome said, putting the ambulance in park. "Ready to take point on this one, Iz?"

Izzy nodded, her hand already on the door handle. "Absolutely," she replied, a hint of determination in her voice.

As they exited the vehicle and grabbed their equipment, Izzy felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. The circumstances might be different, but the core of her job remained the same: help those in need, no matter the situation.

The police officer approached them as they unloaded their gear. "Victim's over here," he said, gesturing towards a cluster of people near one of the market's iconic neon signs. "Male, mid-sixties, collapsed about ten minutes ago. A bystander's been performing CPR."

Izzy took the lead, moving swiftly towards the scene with Jerome close behind. As they approached, she began assessing the situation, her trained eye taking in every detail.

"Sir, we're taking over now," Izzy announced clearly to the bystander performing CPR. She knelt beside the patient, her movements fluid and confident. "Jerome, set up the AED. I'll continue compressions."

As Jerome prepared the equipment, Izzy seamlessly took over chest compressions, her rhythm steady and precise. Her mind raced through the advanced cardiac life support protocols, years of experience guiding her actions despite her official 'rookie' status.

"What's your name?" she asked the breathless bystander who had been performing CPR.

"Tom," he panted, clearly exhausted from his efforts.

"Thank you, Tom. You did great. Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

As Izzy continued compressions, her enhanced senses provided her with a wealth of information. Her fingertips detected subtle variations in the patient's chest wall resistance, giving her insights into his cardiac condition that would typically require advanced diagnostic equipment.

"Jerome, I'm sensing significant myocardial stiffness," she said, her voice low and steady. "Possible long-term hypertension. Let's be prepared for potential complications."

Tom, still catching his breath, began to explain. "He was... looking at the fish... then just collapsed. No warning."

Izzy nodded, processing the information while maintaining perfect rhythm. Her stamina, slightly above normal, allowed her to continue compressions without fatigue.

"AED ready," Jerome announced, quickly cutting open the patient's shirt with trauma shears and wiping the chest dry.

Izzy smoothly transitioned to allow Jerome to place the adhesive pads on the patient's bare chest. Her keen senses picked up subtle signs about the patient's condition that others might miss.

"Clear," Izzy commanded as Jerome activated the AED to analyze.

They waited for the AED's assessment, Izzy's trained eye on the patient and the device.

The AED advised a shock. "Shock advised. Stand clear," the automated voice announced.

"Shocking now," Izzy stated firmly, ensuring everyone was clear before delivering the shock.

After the shock, Izzy immediately resumed compressions while Jerome prepared for potential additional interventions.

"Tom," Izzy addressed the bystander between compressions, "did you notice anything else before he collapsed? Any complaints of pain or discomfort?"

As Tom provided additional information, Izzy and Jerome continued their well-practiced routine, working efficiently to provide the best possible care.

"Jerome, let's get him on the stretcher," Izzy said after completing another cycle of CPR. "We need to move."

They swiftly transferred the patient onto the stretcher, Izzy maintaining compressions throughout the move. As they wheeled him towards the ambulance, Izzy's mind was focused solely on the immediate tasks at hand - continuing treatment, monitoring vitals, and preparing for rapid transport to the hospital.

As they loaded the patient into the ambulance, Izzy smoothly transitioned to the onboard equipment, never breaking the rhythm of compressions. Jerome swung into the driver's seat, activating lights and sirens.

"Harborview, five minutes out," Jerome called back, navigating through traffic with practiced urgency.

Izzy maintained her focus, continuing CPR while monitoring the patient's condition. Her enhanced senses allowed her to detect subtle changes that might have eluded others, but she kept her observations within the realm of standard EMT practice.

"Vitals holding steady," she reported as they neared the hospital. "No change in responsiveness."

The ambulance pulled into Harborview's emergency bay. As the doors swung open, Izzy was already rattling off the patient's status to the waiting trauma team.

"Male, mid-sixties, cardiac arrest at Pike Place Market. Bystander CPR initiated, we've administered two shocks via AED. Total down time approximately 25 minutes."

The handoff was swift and efficient. As the hospital staff took over, Izzy stepped back, her mind already reviewing the call, analyzing her performance, considering what else she might have done.

"Nice work," Jerome said as they walked back to the rig. "You handled that like a pro."

Izzy nodded, allowing herself a small smile. "Thanks. Let's get ready for the next one."

As they began restocking their supplies, Izzy's mind was already preparing for the next call, her focus unwavering.

Jerome glanced at his watch. "Hey, we've got a few minutes. Let's do a quick debrief and then take a short break. I'll call it in."

Izzy nodded, appreciating the moment to reset. After a brief discussion about the call, Jerome stepped away to update dispatch on their status.

Finding herself with a rare quiet moment, Izzy scrolled through the notifications on her phone. She was grateful she had replaced her phone before returning to work. The familiar interface was a small comfort in a world that now felt subtly off-kilter.

The first link was a Facebook post about a new coffee shop opening near her old apartment. The second, an article about upcoming road work that might affect her commute. She smiled at a cute cat video her friend had shared from Instagram.

Then she tapped on a TikTok link. As the video began to play, Izzy's eyes widened slightly. The figure moving with impossible speed and grace was unmistakable. Nathan. Her grip on the phone tightened imperceptibly as she realized the potential implications of this viral post.

A twinge of annoyance hit her as she remembered the communicator from Alex, sitting uselessly in her apartment. She made a mental note to contact the others as soon as her shift ended. This situation needed to be addressed quickly.

"Break's almost up," Jerome called, walking back towards the ambulance. "Ready to hit the road again?"

Izzy locked her phone, pushing her concerns to the back of her mind. "Ready," she replied, refocusing on the task at hand. The challenges of her other life would have to wait. For now, she had a job to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The familiar click of the lock welcomed her home as she entered the apartment, the day's long shift weighing on her shoulders. Moving through the space with practiced ease, she noted how quickly her routine had re-established itself after just a few days back.

Shedding her uniform, she padded barefoot across the cool hardwood floor, goosebumps rising on her skin in the AC's chill. She slipped into a worn Seattle Sounders t-shirt and comfortable joggers, the soft fabric a relief after hours in her work clothes.

The faint scent of yesterday's coffee lingered in the air as she made her way to the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, its smooth surface cool against her palms, she retrieved the communicator from the drawer. The device's sleek design and advanced technology contrasted sharply with the homey surroundings.

Her fingers moved with practiced familiarity over the interface as she keyed in the sequence to contact Alex. After a brief pause, his voice came through, clear and focused.

"Izzy? We've been wondering how you're doing. Glad you got a hold of us. What's up?"

"Hey Alex," she replied, her voice carrying a mix of fatigue and alertness. "Sorry for the radio silence. Been readjusting to the job. How's everyone holding up?"

"We're managing," Alex's voice came through, a hint of relief evident in his tone. "Hazel's been monitoring for any unusual activity. Speaking of which, have you seen anything... out of the ordinary?"

Her mind flashed to the TikTok video of Nathan. "Actually, yes. There's something you should know about Nathan..."

As she began to recount what she had seen, her free hand absently traced the outline of the folding knife secured at her hip - a habit she hadn't shaken since before their return.

"It's about Nathan," Izzy continued, moving away from the counter to look out her window at the city lights. "I saw the TikTok video during my break today."

"We know," Alex replied. "Hazel's been tracking it since it first went up. We're still trying to understand what this means - we don't really know his usual patterns."

Izzy frowned, remembering how little they actually knew about Nathan's time with their captors. "Have you been able to contact Zoe? She might have better insight into his state of mind."

"Not yet," Alex's tone was measured. "She's been... elusive since we got back. Like Nathan, she seems to be processing things in her own way."

"The video though," Izzy pressed, "it's not just about Nathan being spotted. It's about what it might mean for all of us. If he's this visible..."

"Exactly why we need to meet," Alex cut in. "There's too much we don't know about what they went through, and now this public exposure... we need to get ahead of it."

"Actually," Izzy said, glancing at her watch, "I'm done for the day now. If you're set up already, I could come tonight."

"Even better," Alex replied, and she could hear the subtle shift in his tone - the one that meant plans were falling into place. "Give us an hour to finish the security sweep. I'll send you the coordinates."

"An hour," she confirmed, already mentally mapping her route across the city. "I'll grab something to eat and head over. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. And Izzy..." There was a pause. "You might want to see what Hazel's put together here. It's... different from what we had before."

The communicator chimed softly - coordinates appearing on its display. Izzy studied the location, her eyebrows rising slightly. It wasn't an area of Seattle she would have expected.

"I'll be there," she said, already moving to change into something more suitable for evening movement through the city. "And Alex? Thanks for keeping watch while I got settled back in."

After a quick shower and change into dark, practical clothing, Izzy headed down to her apartment complex's parking garage. Her Civic sat exactly where she'd left it this morning after her shift. The familiar car was nothing special, but it was reliable and inconspicuous - perfect for both her EMT work and her other activities.

The evening traffic had thinned out as she made her way through Seattle's streets towards Alex's property. She knew the route well from countless staff meetings and expedition planning sessions, though everything felt different now.

She pulled into the expansive gravel lot between Alex's house and the large equipment building. The converted barn structure loomed in the evening light, its 120-foot length a familiar sight from her days helping prep for expeditions. Even now, she could picture the upper level where team members would sometimes stay before major trips.

As she made her way to the building's entrance, she noted the new security measures subtly integrated into the familiar structure. Things she might have overlooked before now stood out clearly to her trained senses.

The door slid open automatically as she approached. Inside, the familiar layout of Alex's workspace greeted her - the ground floor split between vehicle maintenance and equipment storage, with chain hoists and rails running overhead. The standard 20-foot ceiling and organized shelving gave it the professional feel of a well-maintained repair shop, though now that organization was temporarily disrupted by their recent additions. New technology sat atop workbenches, cables running across surfaces rather than through them, and holographic interfaces were mounted on temporary stands. The whole space had the feel of a work in progress, their modifications still finding their place among the existing infrastructure.

"Quite a change from our old planning sessions, isn't it?" Alex said from near a workbench where various pieces of equipment were laid out. Hazel worked quietly at a holographic interface nearby, her fingers moving with practiced precision through data streams.

The perimeter alarm chimed softly, its tone distinct from a security breach. Hazel glanced up from her holographic interface, quickly checking the external feeds.

"Mrs. Henderson," she announced, her tone carrying a hint of resignation. Through the security feed, they could see their neighbor making her way along the property line, clipboard in hand and reading glasses perched on her nose.

Alex sighed. "Right on schedule. Tuesday evening inspections."

"Should I-" Izzy started to offer, but Alex shook his head.

"Best if I handle this. She's been particularly... attentive since we got back." He moved towards the entrance, pausing only briefly. "Hazel, might want to minimize some of our more interesting modifications for a few minutes."

As Alex stepped out to intercept Mrs. Henderson, they could hear her voice carrying clearly through the evening air.

"Alex! I was just noting that your auxiliary building's exterior lighting seems to have been modified. The HOA guidelines clearly state that all external modifications must be submitted for approval at least two weeks in advance of any changes..."

Izzy and Hazel watched through the security feed as Mrs. Henderson gestured animatedly with her clipboard, Alex's posture remaining calm and professional.

"She was out here with her binoculars when Rose was working on the lights," Hazel said quietly, her fingers still moving across the holographic interface, minimizing certain displays. "Probably thought she finally had something concrete to report."

Through the feed, they could hear Mrs. Henderson's voice growing more insistent. "I distinctly saw people tampering with the fixtures just yesterday. These modifications need to go through proper channels, Alex."

"I told her everything was internal maintenance," Hazel added, a slight edge of amusement in her tone. "She didn't like that answer."

Izzy watched as Alex gestured to one of the unmodified lights, his body language suggesting he was walking Mrs. Henderson through some kind of explanation. "Does she do this often?"

"Twice a week, minimum," Hazel replied, her attention split between the security feed and her work. "She's been trying to find violations since Alex first built this place. The lighting is just her latest excuse."

They could see Mrs. Henderson's shoulders stiffen as Alex presumably explained, once again, that internal maintenance didn't require HOA approval. Her clipboard lowered slightly, but her expression remained determined.

Through the feed, they watched as Mrs. Henderson's posture shifted from righteous indignation to reluctant acceptance. Her clipboard lowered completely as headlights swept across the driveway.

"Marcus," Izzy said, suddenly tensing as she recognized the dark blue Tacoma with its bed rack loaded with outdoor gear. The realization hit her like a physical force - for Marcus, their last expedition planning session had been just two weeks ago. For her, it felt like another lifetime.

They watched as Marcus stepped out, his red-and-black fleece vest visible in the evening light. His arrival seemed to deflate Mrs. Henderson's remaining momentum as he approached.

"Mrs. Henderson," his clear, carrying voice came through the feed. "Lovely evening for a walk. I was hoping to catch Alex - we need to review some equipment for next week's student expedition."

Alex moved quickly to intercept both of them, stepping outside and pulling the door firmly closed behind him. Through the feed, they could see Marcus's slight frown of confusion as Alex guided him away from the building entrance.

"I forgot about the expedition," Izzy said quietly, the weight of her displaced timeline heavy in her voice. "It's been so long for us, but for Marcus..."

They could see Marcus gesturing toward the building, his teaching background evident in his clear, explanatory gestures. Alex's posture remained apologetic but firm, clearly trying to keep the conversation in the driveway.

Through the enhanced feeds, Marcus's voice came through with perfect clarity. "Alex, what's going on? Izzy's car is right there, and we need to check the gear for next week. The students have been preparing for months."

"I know, I know," Alex's voice carried that careful tone he used for difficult conversations. "Listen, Marcus, about the expedition..."

"You never checked in after your last trip," Marcus pressed, his educator's patience tinged with concern. "No response to calls or texts. That's not like you, Alex. And now you won't let me in to check the equipment? The school board's been asking about the expedition permits."

Inside, Izzy winced. The timeline disconnect hit her again - what felt like years of combat and survival for her had been just a few unanswered messages for Marcus.

"He's not going to let this go easily," Hazel observed quietly, watching Marcus's body language through multiple sensor feeds. "Too many inconsistencies for someone that methodical."

They could see Alex struggling to maintain the barrier between worlds - trying to protect Marcus from knowledge that could put him at risk while also preserving a long-standing professional relationship.

"The gear check can wait," Alex was saying, but Marcus cut him off.

"Alex, I've got twenty-three students counting on this expedition. If something's wrong, I need to know now."

The tension in Marcus's stance was evident on every spectrum of their monitoring systems - years of working together had made him attuned to when something was seriously wrong. Before Alex could respond, the door opened behind them.

"Alex," Izzy said firmly, stepping outside. "We should tell them. Marcus and Elena both." She met his gaze steadily, her tone carrying the weight of their shared experiences. "It'll be easier than trying to shut everything down without explanation."

Marcus's eyes snapped to Izzy, his analytical mind already cataloging the subtle differences in her bearing, her way of moving. Then his gaze shifted back to Alex, really looking at his friend for the first time since arriving.

The evening light caught Alex's neck just wrong, highlighting the faint metallic seams that his collar usually concealed. Marcus's expression shifted from concern to focused observation, his teacher's mind processing details he might have otherwise dismissed - the too-precise way Alex moved, the subtle reflections that shouldn't be there under his sleeves.

"Alex," Marcus said slowly, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "What happened to you?"

Inside, Hazel's fingers paused over the holographic interface, watching the scene unfold through multiple spectrums of sensor data.

Alex was quiet for a long moment, his enhanced systems registering Marcus's elevated heart rate, the slight dilation of his pupils, the way his weight had shifted almost imperceptibly into a more stable stance - all the tiny tells of a man preparing himself for something momentous.

"We went somewhere, Marcus," Alex finally said, his voice carrying a weight that made the simple words feel heavy with meaning. "Somewhen. It's... hard to explain." He glanced at Izzy, then back to his friend and employee. "You deserve an explanation, both you and Elena. Let's get her over here too - this isn't something I want to keep going over."

The implications hung in the cooling evening air as the sun's last rays caught the metallic seams at Alex's neck one final time before darkness settled in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter!

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