The studio exploded into chaos.
Every speaker, every piece of electronic equipment capable of producing sound, is simultaneously activated at maximum volume. A cacophony of precisely calibrated frequencies filled the room—some, so low Maya couldn't hear them but could feel them reverberating in her chest, others creating visible distortions in her field of vision.
James dropped to his knees, hands clutched over his ears, his face contorted in agony. His hyperacusis made the sound unbearable, overwhelming his enhanced hearing with excruciating precision.
"James!" Maya shouted, unable to hear her own voice.
She stumbled toward him, disoriented not by sound but by what she could see—the air itself seeming to warp with sonic pulses designed to trigger her synesthetic perception. Colors blo
