The heavy metallic click of the low-pressure isolation chamber doors fading into the background did little to dull the sudden, violent surge of panic that had just transpired. Delon walked unsteadily along the damp stone corridor leading toward the upper administrative pocket of the fortress, his boots splashing through shallow pools of condensed drainage water. Inside his chest cavity, the core felt tightly coiled, humming with a fragile, artificial baseline that the Frequency Shifter worked overtime to maintain. The terrifying image of his own reflection from the diagnostic glass remained burned into his retinas, a vivid reminder of the green light that had temporarily hijacked his left eye.
"The physical stability parameters are holding for now, but we are running out of time," Delon
