Present Day - Medical Transport to Underground Facility
Leon Hart looks nothing like the man who once commanded boardrooms and charity galas.
The cancer has hollowed him out, leaving behind sharp cheekbones and eyes that seem too large for his face. The orange jumpsuit has been replaced by civilian clothes that hang on his diminished frame like a scarecrow's outfit.
But his eyes are clear, focused, and carry the weight of someone who's spent years understanding the true cost of his choices.
Dr. Sarah Kim, the oncologist overseeing his medical parole, checks his vitals one more time as they descend toward the underground facility.
"Pain level?" she asks.
"Manageable. The morphine helps."
"Mr. Hart, I need to be clear about your prognosis. Six weeks is optimistic."
"I understand."
"
