Kayden woke to light.
Not sunlight.
A surgical, brutal white glare that stabbed into his skull the moment his eyelids twitched.
His first breath was thin.Shaky.Painful.
His second breath caught halfway in his throat—
Because he couldn't move.
His wrists were strapped to cold metal armrests.His ankles locked into steel clamps bolted into the floor.A thick harness crossed his chest.
A chair.
A restraint chair.
Smooth, polished, clinical.
His fingers tingled as if the blood flow had been restricted for hours.
A soft mechanical whir echoed above him.
Kayden slowly lifted his head—
And his stomach dropped.
He wasn't in a room.
He was in an observation chamber.
Completely white walls.Ceiling-mounted lights too bright to look at.A ring of suspended screens floating around him, displaying jagged lines of data he didn't understand.
And directly in front of him—
A large one-way glass window.
Behind it, silhouettes moved.Watching.Measuring.
Not speaking.
Not helping.
Studying.
Kayden swallowed hard.
His voice came out as a faint, hoarse whisper:
"…APEX?"
Silence.
The kind of silence that hurt.
He tried again.
"APEX… please… respond."
Nothing.
A small tremor crawled through his fingers.
His system was gone.
His anchor was gone.
His breath hitched.
A click sounded near his right ear.
He turned his head as much as the harness allowed and saw electrodes attached to his temples.
Thin wires snaked from his skin into a humming diagnostic panel.
Another click.
This time to his left.
Kayden's eyes widened.
His left arm had an IV line inserted, slowly dripping clear fluid into his bloodstream.
Sedation?Stabilizers?Something worse?
A voice crackled through an overhead speaker —calm, modulated, emotionless:
"Subject is awake.Initiate Phase One assessment."
Kayden's heart slammed painfully against his ribs.
A door hissed open behind the one-way glass.
Two SRD med-techs entered the observation side — dressed in white coats, scanning tablets, refusing to meet each other's eyes.
Another figure stepped between them.
Sharp uniform.Silver insignia.Hair pulled into a strict bun.
Her face unreadable.
She wasn't Hale.She wasn't a field agent.
She was SRD command.
Kayden felt a weight settle in his chest.
The woman lifted her tablet, speaking through the intercom:
"Kayden Voss.Age: seventeen.Classification under review:OPERATOR CANDIDATE — ARCLIGHT VARIABLE."
Kayden flinched.
She continued, tone clipped and efficient:
"This chamber is a controlled environment for resonance stability evaluation.You will not be harmed as long as you comply."
Kayden's voice cut in, hoarse.
"Where are my friends?"
No answer.
He tried again, louder.
"Where are Alex and Phineas?"
Still no answer.
Kayden's hands clenched against the restraints.
"Where is Hale?"
This time, the woman looked directly at him through the glass.
Her voice remained flat.
"Agent Hale has been temporarily relieved of duty pending internal review."
Kayden's stomach twisted.
"What— what does that mean?!" he demanded.
She didn't blink.
"It means he is not authorized to interfere."
Kayden pulled against the restraints, muscle shaking, fear mixing with anger.
"LET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR!"
She didn't react.
She simply nodded to the med-techs.
A diagnostic arm lowered above Kayden's head, humming softly.
He tried to move—
A warning beep sounded.
His entire body jolted with a painful electrical pulse.
Kayden gasped, vision going white.
"Subject agitation detected," one med-tech said through her mask."Administering micro-regulation shock."
Kayden's breath came out ragged.
The woman in command never shifted expression.
"To proceed, we require system interaction.Activate APEX interface."
The med-tech hesitated.
"Ma'am… the system appears… dormant.Severe corruption. Possibly non-functional."
Kayden's chest tightened.
Dormant.Corrupted.Non-functional.
APEX wasn't answering because APEX couldn't.
The woman's jaw tightened a fraction.
"Then force manual reboot.I want to see what the Arclight code does under pressure."
Kayden froze.
"No… don't do that— APEX is hurt— don't force it—!"
The diagnostic arm whirred louder.
Screens flickered.
Code scrolled violently across Kayden's peripherals —
Not from APEX.
From SRD forcing a system probe into his neural signature.
A sharp spike exploded inside his skull.
Kayden cried out, back arching against the restraints.
Alex's voice echoed in his mind —or memory —or hallucination.
"Kayden— hey— look at me— breathe— I'm here—"
But Alex wasn't here.
Phineas wasn't here.
Hale wasn't here.
He was alone.
The SRD command voice cut through the pain:
"Begin Operator Orientation baseline test."
Kayden's breath hitched.
"No— stop— PLEASE—"
The diagnostic arm drilled deeper into the signal searching for APEX.
Another spike.
Pain tore through him —sharp, electric, nauseating.
APEX flickered for a half-second—
A broken, glitching whisper.
"Com…mand…er…"
Kayden's eyes widened with hope.
"APEX—! I'm here— please— wake up—!"
But the whisper faded.
The woman tapped her tablet again.
"Increase probe intensity."
Kayden shook violently.
"NO— APEX CAN'T HANDLE THAT— DON'T— PLEASE— DON'T—"
The med-tech spoke softly through the intercom:
"Ma'am… this level of stimulus could cause system collapse—"
The woman's voice sharpened.
"He has no choice.Begin the Orientation."
Kayden's heart stopped.
His breath froze.
A cold realization hit him:
This wasn't testing.
This wasn't examination.
This was conditioning.
Turning him into something useful.
Something compliant.
Something theirs.
He screamed as the probe surged again—
And the restraints held him in place while his life split open.
—
Operator Orientation had begun.