~Marcus~
We passed through three security checkpoints, my credentials and confident demeanor getting us through without question. The silver burning through my system was a curse in every way except one—it masked my chemosignals, hiding the anxiety and fear that would have otherwise given me away to enhanced senses.
As we approached Lab 6, I could see Lab 4 through the glass wall opposite—Elara bent over a workstation, completely absorbed in whatever she was accessing.
"Ready?" I asked Paul.
He straightened as much as his failing body would allow. "For my daughter? Always."
I swiped my card and stepped into Lab 6 with Paul. Two technicians looked up, surprised.
"Unscheduled transfer," I announced. "Direct orders from Marx."
Before they could question it, Paul's knees buckled. He col
