He arrived at the Seaport, a sprawling complex of warehouses and docks.
It was a place of seedy deals but it also served as the base of a discreet clinic, hidden deep within the bowels of one of the warehouses.
The room he was led to was sterile and clinical, a stark contrast to the gritty, decaying surroundings.
A doctor, his face etched with weariness and a hint of fear, greeted him with a curt nod.
"Let's get started, Sir," the doctor said, gesturing towards a chair surrounded by an array of intimidating medical equipment.
"The usual, I presume?"
Cain submitted to the tests, the familiar and increasingly unsettling routine of blood draws, neurological scans, and cognitive assessments.
He'd been undergoing these check-ups ever since he'd emerged from the system's embrace, bli
