Trevor's eyes suddenly turned a haunting, milky white. He sat frozen on the edge of the hospital bed, staring blankly into empty space as if gazing at something far beyond the physical room. Bloody tears welled up in his eyes and began to trickle slowly down his pale cheeks.
**THE VISION**
The world around him dissolved into a chaotic blur. All that could be heard were the sharp cracks of gunshots echoing relentlessly, mixed with desperate shouts and terrified screams in the background. The images were distorted and hazy, like viewing an old, damaged video feed, but one terrifying truth cut through the fog with crystal clarity: Alvin was in grave danger and desperately needed help.
A surge of panic flooded Trevor's mind. "I have to reach him right now," he thought desperately. "I need combat techniques—anything that can help me fight and protect him."
The instant that urgent thought crystallized in his consciousness, something deep within his brain seemed to ignite. A hidden nerve was struck, unleashing a torrent of unknown energy that coursed through his entire body.
Without warning, Trevor leaped up from the bed with surprising agility. His heart pounded violently as he sprinted out of the small recovery room and raced down the corridor toward the main hospital hall, driven by an overwhelming sense of urgency he could not ignore.
---
Meanwhile, in the bustling reception area of the hospital, Alvin stood impatiently in front of the polished counter, his fingers drumming restlessly against the smooth surface. He checked his watch for the third time in under a minute, clearly annoyed by the delay.
"Miss, I don't mean to rush you," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise, "but could you please hurry it up? I have important matters to attend to."
The receptionist offered a polite, professional smile despite his evident irritation. "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, sir. The discharge documents have already been processed and sent directly to your personal tab. You should receive the notification any second now."
Alvin glanced down at his wrist device just as a soft chime sounded. A confirmation message appeared on the small screen. He managed a brief, tight-lipped smile in the woman's direction before turning on his heel to leave the building.
At that exact moment, a frantic voice suddenly pierced through the ambient noise of the lobby.
"Alvin! Duck!!!"
Instinctively, without questioning why or who had shouted, Alvin obeyed. He dropped low and dove behind the sturdy reception counter just as chaos erupted.
**BOOM!**
A massive explosion detonated near the entrance, sending a powerful shockwave through the entire lobby. Shards of glass, chunks of concrete, and twisted metal debris flew violently in every direction. Bright orange flames roared to life, rapidly spreading across furniture and curtains as thick black smoke billowed upward, choking the air.
Five heavily armed men in tactical gear burst through the shattered entrance, their advanced laser rifles sweeping the area with red targeting beams. The intruders moved with military precision, their faces partially obscured by dark visors.
"Everyone get down on the ground right now!" the leader bellowed, his voice booming with authority. "Hands on your heads! Do not move!"
Those who had survived the initial blast and could still move quickly complied, dropping to their knees or lying flat with trembling hands clasped behind their heads. Many others lay motionless on the floor, either unconscious from the explosion or too injured to respond. The once orderly hospital lobby had transformed into a scene of panic and destruction within seconds.
"Move out and search for the target," the leader commanded his team coldly.
Just as the subordinates began to advance deeper into the building, a lone figure stepped boldly into their path, blocking the hallway that led to the upper floors.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the leader demanded, his laser rifle already trained on the newcomer.
"I cannot let you pass," Trevor declared firmly, planting his feet and standing his ground despite his ordinary, unassuming physique.
The group of terrorists exchanged amused glances before bursting into loud, mocking laughter. Then, almost in unison, they raised their weapons and pointed multiple red laser sights directly at Trevor's chest and head.
From his hiding spot behind the counter, Alvin's face turned ashen with dread. He desperately wanted to shout a warning or tell Trevor to move aside, but he bit his tongue. Any sudden noise might provoke the armed men to turn their attention—and their guns—toward him instead.
Even with death staring him in the face through the barrels of five high-tech weapons, Trevor remained remarkably calm and composed. At that moment, an extraordinary flood of information began pouring into his mind at lightning speed. Detailed knowledge of human anatomy, muscle control, balance, spatial awareness, and advanced combat techniques filled his consciousness. He gained the ability to control his body with pinpoint precision, anticipating movements and trajectories in ways he had never imagined possible.
He locked his enhanced focus on the first laser beam that was fired. With unnatural clarity, he tracked its entire path through the smoky air and calculated exactly where it would strike—squarely in the center of his chest. At the very last fraction of a second, Trevor shifted his torso with a tiny, precise movement. The deadly beam grazed his upper arm instead, burning a shallow wound but missing all vital organs.
The terrorist leader's eyes widened behind his visor in genuine shock at the improbable dodge, but his surprise lasted only a brief moment.
"Take him down!" he ordered sharply.
A furious barrage of laser fire erupted toward Trevor. Shot after shot struck his body—shoulders, arms, legs, and torso—but remarkably, none delivered a fatal blow. Each injury was painful and debilitating, yet carefully placed just short of killing him. It was as if an invisible guiding force was protecting his life while allowing him to endure the assault.
During the intense shooting, Trevor used the chaos to his advantage. With subtle gestures and eye movements that the terrorists failed to notice, he signaled urgently to Alvin: *Call the Star Forces immediately.*
The Star Forces were the planet's premier military unit, an elite team assembled and funded by the powerful Star Tech corporation. They recruited only the absolute best soldiers, operatives, and specialists from every corner of the world—highly trained, technologically enhanced, and feared by criminals and terrorists alike.
The terrorist leader eventually noticed the small, suspicious movements. His expression hardened with realization. "This bastard is just stalling for time! Forget about finishing him off. Don't waste any more ammunition—just move past him and complete the mission!"
Following the new orders, the armed men began to carefully maneuver around the badly wounded Trevor, who was now bleeding from multiple wounds and breathing heavily.
However, they had severely underestimated the mysterious combat abilities Trevor had suddenly acquired through his vision.
In a burst of unexpected speed and agility, Trevor lunged toward the closest terrorist and delivered a powerful kick directly into the man's midsection. Although Trevor's physical strength was nothing extraordinary, the precision and timing of the strike were perfect. It knocked the wind out of the terrorist and created just enough of an opening for Trevor to close the distance on the next opponent.
Using an unusual, almost fluid fighting style that combined elements of martial arts, dance-like evasion, and instinctive counterattacks, Trevor began to hold his own against the group. He weaved seamlessly between the terrorists, staying so close that they could not fire their weapons freely without the high risk of hitting their own teammates in the crossfire.
The once-confident attackers grew increasingly desperate and frustrated as their coordinated assault fell apart.
"Enough!" the leader suddenly shouted. He had moved silently during the chaos and now pressed the cold barrel of his pistol firmly against Alvin's temple. "Stop right now, or I will blast his head to pieces!"
Trevor froze immediately, all motion ceasing as he raised his hands in surrender.
"Move away from my men. Slowly," the leader growled.
Trevor complied, stepping backward carefully. The moment he created distance, the remaining terrorists rushed forward and roughly pinned him to the blood-stained floor, holding him down with brutal force.
"You two—proceed upstairs to the intended target," the leader instructed, pointing toward the staircase that Trevor had been defending so valiantly.
The two designated terrorists nodded and began moving toward the stairs. But before they could take more than a few steps, a powerful, authoritative female voice cut through the smoky air like a blade:
"Nobody move! You are all under arrest by the Star Forces!"
The elite Star Forces team had finally arrived, storming into the devastated lobby with weapons drawn and tactical precision. Trevor exhaled a deep sigh of profound relief as the tension drained from his battered body. His vision swam with exhaustion and blood loss. The world around him faded into darkness, and he passed out completely.