The camera remains black for a long beat.
The only sound is a steady, rhythmic—
Humm-whirrr—
Like a heavy-duty air filtration system, mixed with the faint, electronic—
Beep... beep... —
of a heart monitor.
Suddenly, the screen splits. A thin horizontal sliver of light cuts through the darkness.
The camera panning to Luka's POV. His vision is a milky, de-focused blur.
Everything is too white. Too bright. He tries to blink, but his eyelids feel like they're weighted with lead.
"○...Am I dead?" his inner voice is a dry rasp. "○Is this the part where I see the light?"
The camera focus-pulls sharply.
A ceiling comes into view. Not the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom or the cracked drywall of the garage. This is made of seamless, matte-gray hexagonal panels. Soft blue LED strips glow in the recesses.
Luka tries to turn his head—
CRKK—
His neck stabs with a bolt of white-hot lightning. He groans, the sound catching in his throat.
"Don't. You've got three cracked vertebrae and enough sedative in you to floor a rhino."
The camera pans slowly to the right.
Darjan is sitting in a sleek, minimalist chair by the bed. He's dressed in a clean, tactical black turtleneck, his massive hammer nowhere in sight.
"○W..wha.. the man?" Luka still in a daze.
He's scrolling through a translucent glass tablet, the blue light reflecting off his calm, sharp features.
Luka now turns his head, searching around. In the white room, nothing special: to his left, anesthesia strapped on a rolling stand; on the left corner of the room, some tools. But right before him on the wall was an open glass window. Through it, people are constantly passing by—from the left, from the right. Some look like doctors and nurses, some don't; some male, some female.
Luka's voice is barely a whisper. "The... girl..."
Darjan doesn't look up from the screen. "Safe. Home. Sleeping off a very expensive dose of amnestics. She won't remember the weird events or the boy who bled all over the driveway."
Luka's fingers twitch. He feels the bandages wrapped tight around his chest and arm. He can still feel it, the static, but it's quiet now. Muffled. Like a radio station losing its signal.
The Camera pans up from the floor, following a pair of obsidian-black stilettos from behind, walking in the hallways, up to a pair of long, elegant legs, finally resting on a crisp, snow-white lab coat. The woman wearing it is striking—her features are sharp yet soft, her hair pulled back into a flawless bun.
The silence of the room is sliced open by the sharp, rhythmic—
Click-clack, click-clack—
of high heels striking the metallic floor, edging closer to the room Luka is in. It's a confident sound, echoing with a precision that demands attention.
The Camera is now positioned at a low angle, looking up from the foot of the floor to the right of the door. From it, a woman appears and stops at the entrance: the same striking high heels, the short white skirt.
The camera slowly pulls up and up, revealing the white coat and finally her elegant face. She holds a digital tablet against her hip, looking down at Luka with a small, knowing smirk. Her eyes are almost seductive but piercing with intelligence.
"Well, well," she says, her voice smooth like aged honey. "The neighborhood celebrity finally decided to join the land of the living."
"○Ah, here we go again." Darjan thinks to himself.
She walks closer, her movements fluid and effortless. She doesn't stop until she's leaning over the bed, bringing with her the faint scent of vanilla and sterile ozone.
The Camera pulls in for a tight close-up on Luka's face. He looks small, his eyes wide and dazed as he stares up at her.
"Who... are you?" Luka croaks, his voice cracking.
She chuckles, a light, melodic sound. She reaches out, using a single finger to gently tilt his chin up, examining the bruise on his jaw and his purple, bulged-up eye like she's inspecting a piece of fine art.
"A bit of a mess, aren't you, Little Hero?" she teases, her thumb grazing the edge of his bandage. "You look like a lost puppy that picked a fight with a lawnmower."
Luka tries to pull back, but his muscles won't obey. "I'm not... a puppy."
"Of course not," she coos, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Puppies are much better at following directions. You, on the other hand, seem to have a talent for finding trouble."
She sets the tablet down on the bedside table and leans in closer, her face just inches from his. The playfulness in her expression shifts, replaced by a strange, magnetic intensity.
"You're lucky you're cute, Luka. It makes the paperwork much easier to stomach."
She reaches out, her palm hovering just an inch above his bandaged chest.
Lukas face gets noticeably red.
"Do me a favor," she whispers, her breath warm against his skin. "Close those big, tired eyes for a moment. Trust me. It'll be the best sleep you've ever had."
The Camera cuts to a side-profile shot. Luka hesitates, his gaze locked onto hers. Slowly, his eyelids flutter and fall shut.
The moment the world goes dark for Luka, the woman's hand makes contact.
Vzzzz—
A soft sound murmurs as her palm touches Luka.
Luka's breath hitches. He doesn't feel pain—he feels a sudden, overwhelming wave of warmth, as if his blood has been replaced by liquid sunlight. The "static" in his veins hums in a perfect, harmonious chord.
"There," she says softly. "That should keep the edges from fraying."
Luka's eyes snap open. Confused. He says—
"What was that?" Hearing the soft sound.
"What did you -"
"Save the thank-you speech for later," she pauses at the threshold, her voice echoing down the hall.
Glancing back over her shoulder with a sharp, playful wink that seems to catch the light.
"Ciao, boy. Try not to break anything else on your way out."
The Camera holds on Luka, sitting alone in the middle of the bed, staring at the empty doorway as the sound of her heels fades into the distance. Still a little red.
Darjan finally taps the screen and looks Luka dead in the eye. His expression isn't cold, but it's professional—the look of a man who has had this exact conversation a hundred times.
"○Time to go."
"Hey, snap out of it," Darjan speaks up, waking Luka.
Luka is a little dazed still, but his mind is on the situation he's in—
"Where..." Luka swallows hard, his throat screaming for water. "What is this place? Who are you people?"
"Questions later. You're lucky to be breathing, kid. Most people who see a Darkin for the first time end up as a stain on the asphalt. You? You actually almost put one in a coffin."
Darjan stands up. He's even more imposing in this clean lighting, a mountain of a human. He walks over to a console on the wall and taps a button. The hiss of a pneumatic seal echoes through the room.
"You should be able to stand up. The doctors say you're stable. Also, there's something I gotta show you."
Luka grinds his teeth, swinging his legs over the side of the high-tech bed. His vision swims. The room feels like it's tilting at a 45-degree angle.
"I'm not... going anywhere... until you tell me..."
Darjan catches Luka by the shoulder before he can collapse, his grip like a vice.
"Relax. Have some patience. You want to know what's going on? Walk with me," Darjan assures Luka. "Also, drop those bandages; you don't need them."
Luka looks down, confused, but obliges. He starts taking them off and struggles a little.
"Nurse," Darjan says.
A nurse comes from the halls and helps Luka unwrap his bandages. Under, miraculously—
"○Huh?" Luka is confused.
"Did I... was I not...?"
"Don't worry about it, you'll understand soon," Darjan interjects into Luka's questions.
The bruises and his limping arm from yesterday are now healed. Luka, in confusion, still has nothing to do except go with Darjan.
Now, as if never hurt, he feels like a new person. The effect of the pain he felt vanished into thin air. Like it never existed. Like he was never hurt from head to toe.
He still felt the pain before the bandages got unwrapped—his mind was playing tricks, or rather, it didn't adjust to his current state.
The pneumatic door hissed as it retracted into the sides of the walls, revealing a corridor that looked less like a hospital and more like the interior of a high-end watch.
They step out of the room and into the halls.
The Camera pulls back into a wide, symmetrical shot. The hallway is a long, tapering triangle of matte-black stone and brushed steel. There are no light bulbs; the edges where the walls meet the floor glow with a soft, pulsing violet hue.
Turning left, Luka is looking around in awe, not being able to believe what he's seeing, still checking down ever so often, still confused by what happened. It shouldn't be possible. Regardless, he moves forward.
"○This isn't a government hospital," Luka thinks, his eyes darting to the reflective floor. "○Not even the private ones have tech that looks like it was stolen from a sci-fi set."
The Camera follows them, tracking their movement as they walk. They pass heavy glass partitions—observation windows.
Inside on of the rooms, three men are standing over a table: one looks like a regular person dressed casually, the two others are in white coats. On the table lies a gun. One of the men in white coats picks the gun up, points it at the regularly dressed person, and opens fire.
Bum-bum—
Two shots are barely heard through the glass. Luka's eyes widen, confused—
"○What the... the fuck?"
The person on the table is bleeding and in pain. He just sits there. The other man in the white coat then comes closer and injects him with a liquid that looks like a mix between violet and green.
Luka, still confused, watches.
But bit by bit, something changes: the bleeding slows down, the wound becomes less visible, and the redness and anguished face he was making get calmer.
Until the wound simply vanishes.
The Camera zooms in tight on the wound, then cuts to Luka's wide, horrified eyes.
"They're experimenting?" Luka's voice is a dry rasp.
Darjan speaks up from in front—
"I told you to keep it moving."
"○Why was I given this task? I thought it would be something more fun." Darjan thinks to himself. "○What a drag."
Luka tears his gaze away and hurries to catch up. Walking further into the halls, the see-through glass rooms only get weirder and weirder.
The Camera cuts to a front-facing shot of the two of them. Luka looks down at his hands. They're still shaking, but the "static" is beginning to thrum again, responding to the high-energy atmosphere of the place.
They reach the end of the long corridor. A massive circular vault door stands before them, engraved with a symbol Luka doesn't recognize—a stylized eye encased in a heavy, geometric gear.
Darjan steps forward. A red laser lattice sweeps over his face.
| | ACCESS GRANTED: SPECIAL AGENT #018 — CLEARANCE LEVEL 1 | |
The heavy circular vault door retracted not in a rotation, but seamlessly into the wall structure, revealing a continued corridor. Wider, taller, and even more intimidating than the one they had just traveled.
The Camera pulls back to a wide, low angle, tracking them as they step through the threshold. The sound is swallowed by the sheer volume of the space. The halls are too wide, the geometric matte-white and gold-trimmed ceiling so high it seems to hold its own weather system.
As the door clears, the "Hospital" section is left behind. They step out onto the glowing floor, mixed with white, gold, and black, sparkling and pleasant to the eye.
"○This isn't a facility," Luka thinks, his eyes tracking the endless lines of the architecture. "○It's a top notch secret facility. A city, hidden from the public eye."
The Camera now follows them from a high altitude, a sweeping crane shot, only able to see the top of their heads, that emphasizes how small they look in the vastness.
They pass more massive glass partitions.
Through the first, a hangar-sized space. Hundreds of analysts are seated at curved workstations, monitoring data streams across monolithic LED screens. The room feels dedicated, complex, yet secondary compared to the journey.
The Camera is tracking them from behind as they walk through the gargantuan, white-and-gold hallway. The scale is immense, but Luka's world is suddenly shrinking. The anesthesia is wearing off, leaving a hollow, aching void in his chest. His pace slows. His eyes, which were darting around at the technology, now fixate on nothing.
Flashback Cut, quick 0.5s frames.
His mom laughing and saying dinner's ready. His dad grunting at the TV. Max, the dog, whining before the stairs.
Luka stops dead in the center of the hall. The camera overshoots him, then pans back quickly to capture his pale face.
"Wait," Luka whispers.
Darjan continues for two more steps before stopping. He doesn't turn around. "We're on a schedule, Luka."
"My parents," Luka's voice hitches. "They... they must be losing their minds. It's been—how long? Ten hours? A day? More? I need to go. I need to call them. I need to get out of here!"
Luka spins around, his sneakers squeaking sharply against the polished floor. He starts to bolt back toward the hospital wing, his movements frantic and uncoordinated.
"MOVE!" Luka yells at a passing technician.
Suddenly, a wall of black fabric blocks his path.
THUMP—
Luka hits Darjan's chest like he ran into a mountain. Before he can recoil, Darjan's massive hand clamps onto Luka's shoulder. It's not a violent grip; it's the grip of a man with a lead.
"Let go! They're probably calling the police! They think I'm kidnapped or -"
"Luka. Calm. Down," Darjan's voice is a low rumble that vibrates through Luka's bones.
Luka struggles for a second, then slumps, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Are they... are they okay?"
Darjan sighs, finally letting go of the shoulder but staying close. "They're fine. They're safe in their home. They have no idea about anything that happened, and they never will. We've handled the narrative."
Luka wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, a small sigh of relief escaping him. "Okay... okay. So they think I'm just staying at a friend's house? Or I'm in the hospital for a 'fainting spell'?"
Darjan looks at him with a completely deadpan expression.
"No. We told them you died."
The Camera stays perfectly still in a Wide Shot.
Silence.
One second...
Two seconds...
Three seconds...
Luka's head tilts slightly. "Huh...?"
"It was the cleanest way to sever the connection," Darjan adds, as if he's talking about the weather.
Luka's eyes go wide, his jaw literally dropping.
"HUUUUHHHHHHH!?" Luka's voice cracks, echoing through the 50-foot ceilings. "ARE YOU FOR REAL!? YOU KILLED ME!? I'M STANDING RIGHT HERE!"
Luka starts waving his arms around like a madman. "You can't just—you can't just DEATH me! That's permanent! My mom is going to have a heart attack! My dad is—oh my god, Max is going to think I'm gone forever!"
"It was for the best," Darjan says, his tone suddenly snapping back to a sharp, icy professional.
Luka, not listening, continues to flare his hands and panic, trying to get past Darjan.
He grabs Luka by the collar—not to hurt him, but to force him to calm down.
"Look at this place, kid. Remember what happened out there. Think for a second. You think you can just go back to high school? You think you can sit at the dinner table with that uncontrollable unknown you've awakened? Listen, I know how you feel; I've been there, even when I was younger than you."
Luka freezes. The image of the creature's splitting, jagged mouth appears in his mind, positioned right in his own living room. Images of the side of his bed crushed and the bathroom sink running rampant flash through his mind. The anger drains out of him, replaced by a cold, heavy realization.
"I... I.. I can't go back," Luka whispers.
"Not yet," Darjan's voice softens just a fraction. He lets go of the collar. "Until you have a grip on what you are—until you can mask that scent—staying 'dead' is the only thing keeping things stable. It's temporary. But for now, Luka, you belong to the shadows. It's a small price to pay for salvation."
"...Fine. You make sense. But I'm not gonna sleep on the fact and take it for granted."
Darjan actually lets out a short, dry chuckle. "Fair enough. Now, move. Time's wasting."
As both continue to walk through the vast space of this mysterious place, they reach the end of the monumental hall, a high-speed elevator bank waiting. Darjan steps forward, another iris scan.
| | ACCESS GRANTED: SPECIAL AGENT #018 | |
The elevator doors split. They step inside. The vertical journey is near-silent, marked only by the blur of the matte-gray layers flashing past the reinforced glass.
Up. Up. Up. Up.
The de-compression pressure is physical, a constant popping in Luka's ears.
The doors slide open.
The scale of the room is staggering. It's a subterranean hollow, the size of a small village, carved directly into the bedrock.
Thousands of monitors line the far walls, flickering with satellite feeds, thermal maps, and scrolling strings of data. People in dark uniforms move with purpose, navigating rows of high-tech consoles.
In the center of the room, suspended by massive carbon-fiber cables, is a colossal holographic globe of the Earth. It's covered in hundreds of small, pulsing red dots.
They are in a secure tactical command room—high-tech consoles, analysts in dark uniforms, the central holographic globe pulsing with the blue Earth and its red dots.
They approach the globe. The Camera is positioned at a close 3/4 angle, following them as they stop by the central monitor.
Luka leans against a console for support, staring at the map.
The Camera pulls in tight on his wide, dazed expression, then to the pulsing red dots on the blue sphere.
"Those dots..." Luka whispers. "Those are... them. The Darkins."
"Not quite. It's activity," Darjan says, his voice heavy. "The dots aren't the Darkins themselves but rather the places known where they appear. They appear everywhere; the dots mark where they're most active."
"I see... so Europe. That's where I see most of the dots." Luka asks.
"Correct. Out of the whole planet, they are mostly on this continent." Darjan answers.
"Listen..." Darjan's voice lowers and gets a little serious, cutting the chit-chat. "You are about to be pulled into something you need to be ready for."
He steps back, allowing the central tactical command room and the Globe to fill Luka's vision.
"Welcome..."
He pauses, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. As the word is uttered.
VVZZZZTTT—
The tactical room environment begins to flicker. The high-tech consoles, the matte-white walls, even the analysts begin to dissolve into digital static.
"...to The Organization."
On the final word, the holographic transition completes. The secure computer room and all its details vanish.
Luka and Darjan are standing on a massive, curved, open half-ball shape observation deck—a hemisphere platform integrated into the highest point of a monumental monolithic structure.
The transformation leaves them standing on a high-altitude catwalk, a dizzying drop on all sides. The Command Room they were in is now revealed as just a single, internal chamber of this giant open observation deck.
The air is cold, sharp. Luka clutches the railing, looking out into the sudden vastness.
Darjan doesn't look back, framing his back against the open vista revealed by the holograph. He spreads his arms slightly.
The camera, having completed the Wide-Angle Dolly Zoom transition from them and the globe into the view, now immediately starts a slow, smooth move backwards, pulling away from them and the massive observation deck. Luka and Darjan, framed against the curve of the structure, begin to shrink in the frame.
Cut to Frame –Wide-Angle Shot. We see them from much further back. The observation deck they are on is a colossal, curved hemisphere integrated into the very peak of a monumental complex. The complex itself is monolithic, a city of white and sophisticated gold integrated into a rugged mountain range.
The architecture is elegant, severe, and vast. Luka and Darjan are small dots against the immense curve of the platform. Describe the intricate levels, the multi-tiered complex, the prestige and power of the white and gold design.
Cut to Frame –Extremely Wide Shot. They are now barely visible dots. The entire monolithic complex is revealed in its full scale. A high-tech fortress, a sophisticated city of white and gold, dominating the highest peak. The sheer complexity and size of the facility are overwhelming. The design is vast, monolithic, yet integrated into the extreme natural landscape. Describe its integrated power grids, landing pads, defensive systems, the sprawl.
Cut to –Accelerating pull back. The camera doesn't cut again, but now acceleration increases. The colossal monolithic complex, a beacon of white and gold, pulls back until it becomes a fully visible, sophisticated jewel set into the highest point of a massive, rugged, isolated, remote island, the building stretching down to the sides, covering almost all of it.
Surrounding it on all sides, stretching to the horizon, is the vast, endless ocean. Complementing the rugged beauty of the island, the deep canyons, the vast open spaces, the privacy.
The camera continues to pull back, smoother now, after the cuts. The remote island is a speck in the endless sea. Luka and Darjan have vanished; the organization's complex is a distant detail.
The Camera cuts back to the observation deck and onto Luka and Darjan. Luka's eyes dazzle with admiration of the beauty, a smile smeared across his face as he stares out at the endless blue horizon.
The sheer scale of the island—the isolation of it—seems to settle into his bones.
Darjan stands like a statue, unaffected by the gale. He checks a holographic interface on his wrist.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Darjan says, his voice cutting through the wind. "A fortress in the middle of nowhere. No one gets in without an invitation. And no one gets out without permission."
Luka turns to him, his expression hardening. "I'm starting to realize that."
"Good. Now that you've seen the 'What,' it's time to see the 'How.'" Darjan gestures back toward the elevator. "One more stop. And this one... this one is for you."
The holographic effect on the room slowly vanishes. The room is back to normal, like it was always a regular room.
The Camera follows them as they re-enter the elevator. They bypass the white-and-gold monumental halls this time. The elevator doesn't go up; it drops.
The floor numbers on the digital display blur into a streak of red light. They aren't going to the offices or the labs anymore. They are going to the foundation.
The doors hiss open.
The prestige is gone, creating a sense of unease. These halls are narrow and built for war. The walls are thick, overlapping plates of matte-charcoal titanium, scarred with deep gouges and heat-stress marks. The lighting is a dim, industrial white.
THUMP—
The floor beneath Luka's feet jolts. Dust shakes loose from the ceiling vents.
THUMP—
Luka stumbles, catching himself on the wall. The "Static" under his skin isn't just humming anymore—it's biting. It's reacting to something on the other side of the walls. A pressure in the air makes his ears pop—a heavy, dense atmosphere that feels like walking through deep water.
"What... is that?" Luka asks, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Is there an earthquake?"
"Not an earthquake," Darjan says, his eyes fixed forward. "You'll see."
They reach the end of the hall. Standing before them is a set of gates that make the previous vault doors look like toys. They are massive slabs of reinforced lead and steel, fifty feet high, etched with thousands of micro-scratches.
There is no electronic hiss this time. Instead, a deep, tectonic grind echoes through the corridor.
The Camera pulls back to a centered, symmetrical Wide Shot. The gates swing outward—the left side flying to the left, the right side to the right—with a force that blows a gust of hot, metallic-smelling air into the hallway.
Luka shields his eyes.
As the light settles and Luka's eyes adjust, the place is revealed.
It is a subterranean Colosseum. The space is so vast that the far walls are lost in a haze of artificial fog. It's the biggest gym ever conceived, but instead of treadmills and weights, it's a landscape of high-speed machinery and violence.
The Camera executes a slow, 360-degree pan to capture the chaos—
To the left, two men are sparring with each other, their strikes creating noticeable ripples through the air with their punching force.
To the right, someone is standing in a glass chamber filled with swirling high-velocity shards, catching them with their bare hands.
In the center, a heavy-set recruit is bench-pressing a literal armored vehicle, the hydraulics of his suit screaming under the strain.
Further back to the right, a woman is standing on a circular platform, blindfolded. She's moving with impossible fluidity, dodging a dozen mechanical arms that are swinging at her with lethal speed.
Darjan rests a hand on Luka's shoulder.
"You wanted to know what you're doing here, Luka? You're here to learn how to keep that heart of yours beating."
The Camera pulls back, framing Luka against the backdrop of the massive training floor.
They step off the catwalk and descend a set of industrial stairs, moving directly onto the floor of the "Pit."
Luka's head is on a swivel, his eyes reflecting the blue and orange sparks from the various combat zones. To him, it looks like a glitch in the Matrix—people moving at speeds that defy biology, weights being lifted that should crush human bone.
"We call this the Crucible," Darjan says, his voice easily cutting through the clank of machinery. "Every person you see here is like you. Someone who woke up one morning and realized they were no longer a passenger in their own skin."
Luka watches a guy roughly his age slam his fist into a block of reinforced tungsten. Each impact sends a shockwave through the air that Luka can feel in his teeth.
"How long has this been kept secret?" Luka asks, his voice small against the roar of the gym.
"I'm not too sure myself," Darjan answers flatly. "I've only been here for a few years, so I don't know."
"○He's only been here a few years? And he did all that back then? ...hmm."
Suddenly, the rhythmic sound of a heavy punching bag being pulverized stops.
The Camera pans to the right. A man—lean, scarred, and drenched in sweat—steps into their path, tossing a damp towel over his shoulder. He's got a grin that looks like it was carved with a knife.
"Yo! Where you been, Dare?" the man calls out, his voice raspy but full of energy. "Ah, I forgot; you were put on welcoming duty."
Darjan stops, a rare, ghost of a smirk touching his lips. "Yeah man, I thought it would be a little more fun though, the way y'all explained it."
"Haha! Told ya." The man laughs.
His eyes immediately shift to Luka. For a second they are sharp, predatory.
"So this is the newcomer?" he circles Luka with his eyes. "What's your name, kid?"
Luka bristles, his jaw tightening. "It's Luka, but can you stop calling me kid when you're like my age?"
The man laughs—a loud, barking sound.
"You don't get it, do you?"
"What...?" Luka is confused.
"You'll get it soon enough," the man responds. "My name's Denox, pleasure to meet ya."
"Yeah, my pleasure," Luka responds.
The man pats Darjan on the shoulder. "See ya around. Also, the team selections are today; don't forget."
"Yeah, yeah," Darjan says.
He gestures for Luka to keep moving. They exit the main floor through a high-security door on the opposite side, entering a glass-walled elevator that travels up the exterior of the training hall.
The Camera stays inside the elevator with them, looking down through the glass floor. As they rise, the chaos of the crucible shrinks. The people become dots; the sparks become tiny pinpricks of light.
They step out onto a transparent observation deck—a massive sheet of reinforced glass suspended hundreds of feet above the training grounds.
Luka looks down, the height making him dizzy, admiring the view.
Darjan walks to the very center of the glass panel, his boots sounding like gunshots in the sudden quiet of the upper levels.
"Well," Darjan begins, his voice echoing. "I know you wanted to ask this, so here we are."
Now looking at Luka. "You've seen the 'What'—the Darkins and the blood. And you've seen the 'How'—the facility, the training."
He turns around, his silhouette stark against the glowing lights below. "Now, it's time for the 'Why'."
Luka crosses his arms, his face getting serious. "Yeah, that's right. Was wondering when you were gonna explain what's going on with me."
"You want to know what's happening to your body, don't you? Why you're faster? Why all of this happened to you?"
Darjan leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Alright... listen up."