The world was burning, for real. Eli Stone could taste it – scorched earth, fear, and blood. His own. The concrete under him shook from distant artillery, like a twisted lullaby for the dying. Everything blurred; the city fight was just twisted metal and shimmering heat. A medic screamed his name, but it was just a fading whisper against the automatic fire.
"Status report, Sergeant!" A tinny voice crackled in his ear, busted comms.
Eli tried to talk, but a cough ripped through his chest, fresh warmth gushing onto his ripped uniform. His left side was totally wrecked. That IED had done its job. He fumbled for his sidearm, a stupid move. No ammo, no fight left.
"Sergeant! We're losing you! Evac's... messed up!"
Then, a new voice, calm and cold, cut through the chaos. "Cryo-lock started. Keep subject. Revival chance: 0.007%. Go".
A cold, sterile mist started pouring from his gear, wrapping around him. The battle's roar faded, replaced by a high-pitched whine that vibrated through his bones. He fought it, tried to push back the numbness, to keep going. But the cold just got deeper, seeping right into him, promising nothing. He was fine with that.
Then, light. Not the harsh, flickering glare of a battlefield, but a soft, gentle glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The air was cool, clean, no smell. No ash, no gunpowder, no blood. The distant thunder of war was gone, replaced by a soft, steady hum.
Eli's eyes fluttered open. His vision was blurry, then sharp. He was lying on a soft, weirdly shaped surface, stark white against his own scarred, unfamiliar hands. His body felt odd, heavy, but somehow... whole. No pain. No aches. Just this really unsettling stillness.
Above him, faces. Not the grim, tired faces of medics or the tough looks of soldiers. These were different. Their skin was smooth, perfect, their eyes wide and calm. They looked almost childlike, with a gentle concern. A woman with hair like moonlight leaned over him, her voice a soothing murmur.
"Welcome, Subject Alpha-7," she said, her voice like music, totally lacking the urgency or fear Eli was used to. "You're safe now. You're awake".
He tried to push himself up, but his muscles felt like jello. A hand, surprisingly strong but gentle, pressed him back down. "Relax. Your recovery will take time".
Recovery? He looked around. This wasn't a battlefield hospital. It was huge, spotless, bathed in that soft light. Walls of shimmering, clear stuff showed glimpses of a perfectly ordered, green world outside. No wreckage. No smoke. No signs of war.
A cold, deep dread started to settle in Eli Stone's gut, way worse than any fear he'd known in battle.