The faculty lounge at Everett High School was empty except for Marcus, his red-and-bck fleece vest a spsh of color against the institutional beige walls. His phone buzzed on the table next to his half-graded physics tests.

  "Marcus Rodriguez," he answered, recognizing Michael's number.

  "Hey Marcus, it's Michael Delgado. Got a minute? It's about Alex."

  Marcus set down his red pen, his teacher's instincts picking up the concern in Michael's tone. "Sure. What's on your mind?"

  "Something's off with him. The way he handled questions about the upcoming training weekend... I can't put my finger on it, but it's not like him." Michael paused. "You've been on expeditions with him recently, right? Notice anything different?"

  Marcus leaned back in his chair, choosing his words carefully. "Different how?" He needed to understand exactly what Michael had picked up on before deciding how much to reveal or explore.

  "Different enough that I'd rather talk about it in person," Michael said, his voice carrying that mix of military precision and casual concern that Marcus had come to recognize. "You free for dinner? There's a diner just off Broadway in Everett - Jimmy's Pce. Good coffee, better hash browns."

  Marcus gnced at the clock above the faculty lounge door - almost 4:30. The stack of ungraded physics tests could wait. This conversation could be crucial for Alex's situation. "Yeah, I can do that. Say six?"

  "Perfect. And Marcus?" Michael paused. "Thanks. I know you and I aren't exactly close, but Alex... well, something's not adding up."

  "I hear you. See you at six."

  After hanging up, Marcus sat for a moment, mentally reviewing what he knew about Michael Delgado from both Alex's accounts and their own limited interactions. A steady, practical man with a decade of shared service history with Alex. The kind of person who noticed details but also knew when to keep quiet about them. This meeting could either be an opportunity or a complication.

  Marcus typed out a quick message to Alex: "Heads up - Michael Delgado just called. Meeting him at Jimmy's Pce at 6. Says he's noticed something's off with you. Want to feel him out, see if he might be someone we can trust to help with your Guard situation."

  The response came quickly: "Perfect timing. Could be exactly the opening we need. Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Let me know how it goes."

  Marcus pocketed his phone and turned back to the physics tests. He managed to grade through most of the stack, making careful notes in red ink about common misconceptions in electromagnetic field calcutions. His mind, though, kept circling back to the upcoming conversation. Michael's military background and position in the Guard could make him an invaluable ally - or a serious complication if handled wrong.

  At 5:45, he packed up his remaining work, shrugged on his patch-covered fleece vest, and headed out to his older car. The drive to Jimmy's Pce would give him time to pn his approach.

  The neon sign of Jimmy's Pce cast a warm glow through the light evening drizzle. Marcus pulled his ride into a spot near the entrance, noticing Michael's truck already parked in the lot. Even off-duty, the Sergeant's vehicle had that military precision to its parking job.

  Inside, the diner was doing steady business but wasn't packed - typical for a weekday evening. Michael sat in a booth toward the back, positioned where he could see both the entrance and the emergency exit. Some habits never changed, Marcus thought, recognizing the tactical choice from his own military days.

  Michael stood as Marcus approached, offering a firm handshake. He was in civilian clothes - a casual button-down and jeans - but still carried himself with that distinct military bearing.

  "Thanks for coming," Michael said as they both settled into the booth. "Ordered coffee already, hope that's okay."

  "Perfect," Marcus replied, nodding thanks to the waitress as she filled both their cups. "So, what's got you worried about Alex?"

  Michael added cream to his coffee with methodical precision, taking a moment to organize his thoughts. "It's not any one big thing," he began. "It's a bunch of little details that don't quite fit. The way he moves now - it's different. More... controlled. And when I brought up the training weekend, he got this look. Started asking questions about medical discharge protocols."

  He paused as the waitress came by with menus, waiting until she was out of earshot before continuing. "Look, I know we've only been stationed together these past couple years, but Alex and I clicked fast. Remember that three-day trek up in the Snohomish range st spring? When you, me, and Alex took that group of adventure seekers up?" Michael shook his head. "You've been working with him even longer than I have - what, five years now? So you know how he is in the field. How he moves, how he thinks."

  Michael leaned forward slightly. "Hell, that's partly why I wanted to talk to you. You've known him longer, worked more trips with him. And something changed after that rafting trip of his."

  Marcus kept his expression neutral, taking a slow sip of coffee. "Changed how?"

  "That's just it - I can't pin it down exactly. But you've been out with him since then, right? Tell me you haven't noticed anything different about him?"

  "Actually," Marcus said, setting down his coffee, "I haven't been out with him since before that rafting trip. He's been... restructuring things. Shifting the company's focus more toward educational programs, specialized training courses."

  He thought carefully about his next words, knowing they needed to sound natural. "That's part of why I was surprised to hear from you. Been trying to get him to commit to some dates for the spring semester outdoor physics program, but he's been pretty vague about timeline commitments."

  The waitress returned to take their orders, giving Marcus a moment to gauge Michael's reaction to this information. When she left, Michael was frowning slightly.

  "Restructuring?" Michael repeated, his military training making the word sound like a tactical assessment. "That's not like him. Alex lives for those wilderness expeditions. At least, he used to."

  "So, theoretically," Marcus said carefully, stirring his coffee though it needed no stirring, "what if something did happen? Something big? Something that changes everything?" He watched Michael's reaction over the rim of his cup.

  Michael sat back, his posture shifting subtly from concerned friend to analytical soldier. His eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the deliberate weight behind Marcus's words.

  "That's a pretty loaded 'theoretical' question," Michael said after a moment. "Are we talking injury? Security issues?" He paused, lowering his voice. "Or something else entirely?"

  "Let's say..." Marcus chose his words with the same precision he used teaching complex physics concepts, "it's something else entirely. Something that might require certain... adjustments. Like stepping back from active Guard duty, for instance."

  The diner's ambient noise - clinking ptes, murmured conversations, the sizzle of the grill - filled the silence as Michael considered this.

  "What kind of 'something else' are we talking about here?" Michael asked, his tone carefully neutral but his eyes sharp. Decades of military service had taught him when someone was feeling out his position on sensitive information. He leaned forward slightly, keeping his voice low. "Because if Alex is in some kind of trouble..."

  He let the sentence hang, a mix of protective concern and professional caution in his expression. Years of working logistics and resource management in the Guard had honed his ability to read between the lines, but this conversation was setting off unfamiliar arms.

  "I mean, a week-long rafting trip shouldn't..." He stopped, reassessing. "Unless this isn't about the rafting trip. Not really." His expression shifted from skepticism to something more calcuting. "Marcus, what exactly are you trying to tell me - or not tell me"

  "Sometimes," Marcus said, his teaching instincts helping him frame the complex idea, "a week can change everything. Or it might feel like... much longer than a week, in terms of what it does to a person." He met Michael's gaze steadily. "The kind of change that makes you reconsider your commitments, your capabilities. The kind that makes you realize you might not be... compatible anymore with certain obligations."

  "You're being awfully cryptic," Michael said, tension creeping into his otherwise controlled voice. "Are we still being theoretical here?"

  "What I'm trying to figure out," Marcus continued, "is whether you'd be willing to help a friend navigate a complicated situation. One that might require discretion, understanding, and maybe some creative problem-solving within the Guard's systems. Even if you don't know all the details."

  "So," Michael said, his military training evident in how he pieced the implications together, "Alex is involved in something big. Something that got him in trouble." He paused, recalibrating his assessment. "Likely a lot of trouble."

  Marcus took another sip of coffee, neither confirming nor denying the assumption. His expression remained carefully neutral, but there was something in his eyes - a subtle acknowledgment that Michael was circling closer to a truth, even if it wasn't quite the right one.

  "What I'm saying is that there are situations where a friend might need help making a clean break. The kind of situation where traditional channels might not be... sufficient."

  Michael leaned back, studying Marcus. "You're talking about more than just a career adjustment. This is serious." It wasn't a question. "And you're trying to determine if I'd be willing to help Alex navigate whatever mess he's gotten himself into."

  "I'm exploring potential support options," Marcus said diplomatically. "Alex has been a reliable colleague for years. If he needs discrete assistance restructuring his professional commitments, I want to understand what resources might be avaible."

  The Sergeant's eyes narrowed. "Discrete assistance that might involve medical discharge protocols?" He repeated the earlier phrase, watching Marcus carefully. "You're not just fishing. You know something specific."

  "I may," Marcus replied carefully, his tone measured and professional. "A lot depends on you and the concept of pusible deniability. I'm no longer in the military, having completed my tour. But you're active duty, which means there are specific considerations you must be aware of."

  Michael nodded, understanding the delicate nature of the conversation. "Go on," he prompted, his posture subtly shifting to indicate he was fully engaged.

  "Any assistance we might discuss would need to be handled with extreme discretion," Marcus continued. "The kind of support Alex might require could potentially conflict with standard military protocols. As a civilian, I have more flexibility. But you, as an active-duty Sergeant, would need to weigh the professional risks carefully."

  He paused, letting the implications settle between them. The unspoken message was clear: Michael would need to decide how far he was willing to go to help a friend, banced against his current military commitments.

  "So," Michael said slowly, "what exactly are we talking about here?"

  Marcus leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Nothing we can discuss here. This is far more sensitive than a casual conversation in a public diner."

  The subtle tension in his tone communicated volumes - this was serious, potentially cssified, and definitely not something to be explored in an open space with nearby tables and attentive wait staff.

  Michael's military training kicked in immediately. He understood the implication: whatever was happening with Alex required a level of discretion that went well beyond a simple professional transition. The kind of sensitive information that needed a secure, private setting.

  "I see," Michael responded, his own voice now equally low and controlled. The phrase carried multiple yers of meaning - acknowledgment, caution, and a professional's instinct to understand without pushing too hard.

  Michael leaned forward, a glint of determination in his eyes. "I want in," he said firmly. "At least enough to understand what's happening and determine how I can help."

  Marcus studied him carefully, weighing the potential risks and Michael's apparent commitment. "If you proceed," he said methodically, "you need to understand something critical. There will be a point of no return. If at any moment you feel this might compromise your military duties or professional integrity, you'll need to walk away completely. Forget everything you might potentially witness."

  The statement hung between them - part warning, part challenge. Michael wasn't just being asked to help; he was being tested. His response would determine whether he could be trusted with whatever sensitive situation surrounded Alex.

  "This isn't a casual request," Marcus continued, his voice low and serious. "What you might learn could fundamentally alter your understanding of... well, everything. And if you can't fully commit to discretion, the safest option is to walk away now. Completely."

  Michael's jaw set with a resolute expression that spoke to years of military service and personal loyalty. "No," he said firmly, "I won't leave a fellow soldier to fall. Especially not a friend."

  The statement carried the weight of a fundamental military code - the unwritten promise that runs deeper than official protocols. Marcus recognized it immediately: the commitment to those you've served with, the understanding that goes beyond rank and paperwork.

  "I'm in," Michael continued, his voice low but unwavering. "Whatever this is, whatever Alex is facing - I won't abandon him. If he needs help navigating something complex, something that could compromise his future, I'll find a way to support him. Quietly, if needed."

  Marcus nodded, a subtle respect evident in his gesture. Michael had just passed an unspoken test - the willingness to stand by a colleague, to potentially risk professional comfort for personal loyalty.

  "Then we'll need to arrange a more secure conversation," Marcus said. "Somewhere we can speak without risk of being overheard."

  Marcus leaned in closer, his voice lowered. "We'll leave your truck right here in the parking lot. Everything electronic stays behind - phone, smartwatch, ptop, anything with GPS or transmission capabilities."

  Michael nodded, understanding the gravity of the precaution. As a bachelor who had just finished his shift, he had the flexibility for an extended, secure conversation. "Agreed," he responded. "I'm prepared to go wherever this needs to go."

  The careful preparation underscored the serious nature of their impending discussion. Marcus was ensuring complete communication security, signaling that this was far more than a casual conversation about a friend.

  "We'll head south," Marcus said, a statement that carried the weight of careful pnning. "Are you ready?"

  Michael carefully removed his smartwatch, pcing it in the center console of his truck. He then powered down his smartphone and set it beside the watch. With methodical precision, he double-checked that no other electronic devices remained on his person.

  Moving the truck to a less congested area of the parking lot, he ensured it was parked in a well-lit spot. He activated the security system, making a careful sweep to confirm no valuable items were visible through the windows. Each movement was deliberate - the practiced routine of a military professional ensuring complete operational security.

  "All clear," Michael said to Marcus, closing the truck door and testing its lock. The parking lot lights glinted off the vehicle's clean, dark surface - a silent sentinel waiting for its owner's return.

  Marcus's car pulled out of Jimmy's Pce parking lot, heading south with a quiet purposefulness. The dashboard lights cast a soft glow, but neither man felt compelled to break the silence. It was a companionable stillness, born of shared military experience - the kind of quiet that speaks volumes without a single word.

  Michael gazed out the window as suburban Everett slowly gave way to more rural ndscapes. His posture was rexed yet alert, a subtle tension underlying his calm exterior. Marcus drove with the same controlled precision he applied to his physics lectures, hands steady on the wheel, eyes consistently scanning the road and surrounding terrain.

  They had been colleagues long enough to understand the value of silence. Each was processing, preparing, gathering thoughts about the conversation that would soon unfold. The comfortable quiet between them was itself a form of communication - a mutual understanding that would serve them well in whatever complex discussion awaited.

  The drive continued its southward journey, the night growing darker with each mile.

  They wound their way through Lynnwood's quiet residential streets, eventually turning onto a rger property that sat slightly apart from neighboring homes. As they approached, the property came into view - a substantial house with evening floodlights illuminating the grounds and a sizeable garage-warehouse structure in the back.

  Alex stood alone in the driveway area, his posture unmistakable even at a distance. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, he waited with a stillness that spoke of military training and recent experiences beyond typical civilian life.

  Marcus pulled his car to a stop, the headlights briefly illuminating Alex before cutting off. The property remained silent except for the soft hum of the car's engine dying away.

  Michael gnced at Marcus, then back at Alex, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "This isn't what I was expecting," he muttered, though more to himself than to Marcus.

  Marcus and Michael stepped out of the vehicle, their movements deliberate and synchronized - a testament to their shared military background. The evening air was cool, carrying a hint of moisture from earlier rain.

  Alex remained where he stood, backlit by the garage's flood lights. His stance was rexed but Alert, watching their approach with an intensity that suggested he was assessing far more than just their physical movement.

  "Michael," Alex said first, his greeting neutral but not unfriendly. His gaze shifted between Michael and Marcus, measuring something unseen.

  Michael stepped forward, a mix of professional courtesy and personal concern in his posture. "Alex. Marcus suggested we needed to talk."

  The garage behind Alex loomed rge, its presence suggesting there was far more to this meeting than a casual conversation between colleagues. The property's isotion and careful lighting spoke to intentional security measures.

  "Yes, it's time we talked," Alex said, his tone measured and precise. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a level that ensured only Michael and Marcus could hear.

  "Before we go any further, I need absolute crity about confidentiality," Alex continued, his military training evident in his direct approach. "Everything discussed from this point forward remains strictly between us. No electronic records, no casual conversations, no breadcrumbs that could compromise what I'm about to share. Your professional career, potentially your personal safety, depend on complete discretion."

  He looked directly at Michael, his gaze intense and unblinking. "If at any point you feel you cannot maintain this level of confidentiality, you walk away. Completely. No questions, no follow-ups. Are we understood?"

  The garage behind them seemed to absorb the weight of his words, the flood lights casting long shadows that emphasized the seriousness of the moment.

  Michael let out a short ugh, genuine warmth cutting through the tension. "Come on, Alex. We've known each other long enough that my presence here should tell you everything about my commitment."

  His response carried the weight of shared experiences - years of service, mutual trust built through challenging moments. The ugh was more than just a casual sound; it was a decration of loyalty, a statement that he was all in, regardless of what Alex was about to reveal.

  "I'm here," Michael said simply, his tone making it clear that this meant far more than just physically occupying space. "Whatever this is, whatever you need - I'm here."

  The sincerity was palpable, a testament to the bond formed through years of professional and personal connection. Michael's commitment wasn't just words, but a deeply felt promise of support.

  "Good," Alex said, then spoke a single word: "Hazel."

  Instantly, the garage door began to rise, revealing a meticulously organized interior. A rugged expedition van and two side-by-side expedition vehicles occupied primary positions. Off to the side, almost unnoticeably, a workstation with standard monitors sat illuminated, where Hazel was seated - her presence understated yet clearly part of the carefully designed space.

  The interior looked like a professional expedition outfitting space at first gnce - nothing immediately suggested the extraordinary technological capabilities that Marcus and Michael would soon discover. The holographic camoufge and advanced security systems were invisible, making the warehouse appear mundane and functional.

  Hazel remained seated, her posture professional, watching their arrival with quiet attention but making no move to interrupt.

  "Come inside," Alex said, gesturing for Michael and Marcus to follow him into the building.

  Michael's skeptical comment died mid-sentence as they passed through some invisible barrier. The space around him transformed with shocking suddenness.

  The massive bck military vehicle dominated one section of the space, its eight massive wheels and dual-cannon turret creating an imposing presence. But what truly caught Michael's attention was Hazel's workstation.

  Holographic interfaces floated in the air around her, unlike anything he'd ever seen. These weren't standard dispys, but three-dimensional projections of impossible crity. The smallest screen was easily 20 inches, while the rgest rivaled - no, far exceeded - the size of modern rge-screen televisions. The resolution was so crisp, so detailed, that it made high-end military dispys look like crude approximations.

  Each holographic screen seemed alive with data - complex graphics, shifting maps, intricate diagrams that moved and transformed with a fluidity that defied Michael's understanding of current technology. The images were so sharp, so yered, that they appeared more real than reality itself.

  His military training kicked in - something was very, very different here. And whatever was happening, it was well beyond anything he'd expected when Marcus suggested they needed to talk about Alex.

  Michael's gaze swept across the technological marvel surrounding them, his military instincts parsing every unusual detail. His question, when it came, was direct and den with suspicion: "Which Country."

  It wasn't truly a question, but a statement - an implicit accusation that Alex might have been co-opted by some advanced military research program, perhaps even compromised by a foreign power.

  Alex's response was calm, almost dismissive. "Concordance, but you don't need to worry about them."

  The brevity of the exchange seemed to carry more weight than a longer expnation. Michael's tactical mind was clearly turning over the implications, trying to categorize and understand the extraordinary technological environment he'd just witnessed.

  "Concordance?" Michael asked, his voice a mix of confusion and growing tension.

  In response, Alex simply took off his jacket. Underneath, he wore a simple white military-style tank top that left nothing to the imagination. Michael's eyes widened as the full extent of Alex's cybernetic modifications became visible.

  Metallic and biomechanical integrations traced across Alex's body - sleek, precise, far beyond any prosthetic technology Michael had seen. These weren't just repcements or enhancements; they were fundamental restructurings of human anatomy. Intricate connections between organic tissue and advanced technological systems were clearly visible, seamlessly integrated in a way that defied Michael's understanding of current medical or military technology.

  Michael actually stumbled backward, his military training momentarily overwhelmed. The Alex he'd worked with just a weekend ago had shown no hint of these extraordinary modifications. The transformation was complete, shocking, and utterly incomprehensible.

  Michael's stunned "How" erupted from deep in his chest - a primal, visceral sound that was part question, part existential denial. It wasn't just a query, but a fundamental challenge to everything he understood about reality.

  "HOW?" The word came out raw, guttural, loaded with a soldier's trained skepticism colliding head-on with something utterly incomprehensible.

  Alex met the outburst with a ft, controlled response. "Alternate Earth. Fifteen years there. One week here."

  The statement was delivered with clinical precision, as if expining a routine administrative detail rather than a reality-shattering revetion. No eboration, no emotional coloring - just a stark, impossible fact that challenged everything Michael understood about time, space, and human experience.

  Behind the statement y volumes of unspoken complexity. Fifteen years in another reality, compressed into a single week of Earth time. The cybernetic modifications, the advanced technology, the holographic interfaces - all of it suddenly contextualized by those few words.

  Michael stood frozen, his military training struggling to process an expnation that defied every logical framework he possessed.

  Michael gnced out the still-open garage door, then back at Alex. His tactical mind was processing the impossible technological dispy surrounding them.

  "And no one can see this?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and professional assessment. "They just see us standing in a normal shop?"

  The implied question was clear: How could such an extraordinary technological environment remain completely hidden in pin sight? His military training demanded an understanding of the camoufge and concealment mechanisms at work.

  Alex nodded to Hazel, who smoothly closed the garage door. Then he reached to his arm, tapping a strap adorned with a rge, multifaceted crystal that seemed to have intricate circuitry built directly into its structure.

  Instantly, his form transformed. The advanced cybernetic modifications vanished, repced by the appearance of a completely normal human - the same Alex that Michael would have recognized from their previous interactions. The holographic camoufge was so precise, so seamless, that it was impossible to detect any hint of the extraordinary technological reality beneath.

  The transformation was instantaneous and complete, a testament to the advanced technological capabilities that now surrounded them. Michael could only stare, his understanding of reality continuing to fracture with each new revetion.

  Michael turned to Marcus, his voice carrying a mix of shock and demand: "Are you changed too?"

  Marcus shook his head definitively. "No. I didn't go," he stated simply.

  Before Michael could process this, Hazel removed her jacket. She wore a simir military-style tank top that immediately revealed extensive cybernetic modifications. Her entire left arm was a sophisticated biomechanical integration, seamlessly blending organic tissue with advanced technological systems. The modifications extended across her torso, creating a complex ndscape of human and machine.

  With a deliberate motion, she turned her head and lifted part of her hair, exposing cyber data ports at the base of her skull - intricate connection points that further emphasized the profound technological transformations she had undergone.

  Hazel's voice was calm and matter-of-fact as she expined, "I lost my arm and most of my torso to a military salvo round during an attack. Only the advanced technology saved my life. I was one of Alex's clients on the trip."

  Her matter-of-fact tone contrasted sharply with the profound implications of her statement. The casual way she described such a catastrophic injury suggested both the trauma she'd experienced and the technological marvel that had preserved her life.

  Michael stood silent, processing the yers of impossible information. A routine expedition trip that somehow involved alternate realities, advanced cybernetic reconstructions, and life-altering technological interventions was so far beyond his current understanding that he seemed momentarily unable to formute a response.

  Michael's voice was tight with tension as he asked the question that had been building since he first saw the technological marvel surrounding him: "Casualties. How many died?"

  Alex's response was measured and succinct: "Surprisingly, all returned. Just not the same as they left."

  The statement hung in the air, den with implications far more complex than its simple words suggested. All returned, but fundamentally transformed - physically, technologically, perhaps even existentially. The subtle distinction between survival and unchanged survival spoke volumes about the extraordinary experience they had undergone.

  Just as Alex began to form a response, starting with "Daniel surpri—", time itself seemed to ripple subtly. Daniel materialized in the middle of their group, his pure silver hair cascading past his shoulders in stark contrast to deep blue and bronze robes that draped his form with an otherworldly elegance.

  The weathered dignity of age marked his face, yet his movements defied typical human limitations. He moved with a grace that suggested he was experiencing multiple moments simultaneously - each gesture carrying an unsettling fluidity that left faint afterimages hanging in the air like temporal echoes.

  His eyes, holding the depth of distant gaxies, shifted focus periodically, glimpsing something beyond the immediate physical space. A perfect, almost unnatural posture made him seem to occupy a space that was somehow both more and less substantial than it should be.

  "It was really nothing much, honestly," Daniel said, his voice carrying a hint of ancient wisdom. "Time was simultaneous when it needed to be."

  Michael stared, caught between confusion and a growing sense that he was witnessing something far beyond his current understanding. Daniel's presence was both a source of comfort and unease - an enigmatic figure who seemed to view their extraordinary journey with a philosophical nonchance that suggested such temporal complexities were mere routine to him.

  Michael, his brain overwhelmed by the cascade of impossible revetions, attempted to inject some levity into the situation. "Let me guess," he said, a slightly nervous chuckle underlying his words, "he's your Gandalf?"

  Daniel's response was immediate and perfectly timed. "Grey or White?" he asked, a hint of dry amusement in his voice.

  The question hung in the air, a pyful riposte that simultaneously acknowledged the reference and gently mocked the attempt to categorize something far beyond standard fantasy tropes. Michael found himself momentarily stunned - not by temporal magic or advanced cybernetics, but by the unexpected wit of a being who seemed to exist outside normal human constraints.

  Michael processed Daniel's reference and burst out ughing. "Actually, Saruman might be a better description," he said, the tension momentarily breaking.

  Alex and Hazel looked confused, the cultural reference lost after their years away. Their bnk expressions suggested the pop culture context had long since faded from their memory.

  Marcus, however, chuckled appreciatively at the comparison.

  Hazel tilted her head, genuine curiosity in her voice. "Gandalf? Saruman?"

  Marcus, still smiling, gnced at her. "Lord of the Rings characters. A wizard reference," he expined succinctly. "Daniel's got that enigmatic, powerful advisor vibe."

  Daniel merely raised an eyebrow, the hint of a knowing smile pying at the corner of his mouth - as if the comparison amused him on multiple levels of understanding.

  Alex gnced at Daniel with a hint of sardonic familiarity. "He comes and goes pretty badly, just like a mythical wizard after all."

  Daniel's response was immediate and dry. "I'm not that big on fireworks, though."

  Michael burst out ughing again, the absurdity of the moment cutting through the intense technological and existential revetions that had characterized the evening. The casual exchange felt like a small moment of humanity amidst the extraordinary circumstances, a brief respite of humor that acknowledged the almost unbelievable nature of their situation.

  Michael's ughter subsided, but the tension in the room had shifted. The impossible revetions of the evening now carried a lighter undertone, a momentary break in the overwhelming complexity of what he was experiencing.

  "So," Michael said, his voice more steady now, "you've all been... where exactly? And for how long?" He looked between Alex, Hazel, and Daniel, trying to reconcile the people he thought he knew with the technological marvels and temporal anomalies now before him.

  The group exchanged gnces - a silent communication that suggested yers of shared experience far beyond Michael's current comprehension. Daniel remained enigmatically still, his gaxy-deep eyes suggesting he was simultaneously present and somewhere else entirely.

  Hazel answered, her tone matter-of-fact despite the extraordinary nature of her statement. "Most of us were there for 15 years. Some for longer. We can't get a straight answer out of Daniel here about his exact timeline."

  Daniel remained inscrutably silent, those gaxy-deep eyes suggesting multiple yers of potential meaning.

  Michael's processing of the information seemed to reach a sudden breakthrough. His eyes widened, and he looked directly at Daniel with a mix of disbelief and dawning recognition.

  "Wait..." Michael said, his voice rising slightly. "Daniel... Your tech nerd?"

  The question hung in the air, den with the implication of some shared history or understanding that had just crystallized in Michael's mind.

  Daniel shrugged, an orange suddenly appearing in his hand as if it had always been there. With deliberate, almost hypnotic movements, he began peeling the fruit. The orange peels, instead of falling to the floor, simply vanished - as if they had never existed at all.

  The casual dispy of impossible manipution seemed to underscore the earlier wizard comparison, a subtle demonstration of abilities that defied conventional understanding.

  "I was the tech nerd," Daniel confirmed, his tone neutral, as if describing the most mundane of professional roles.

  As Michael looked at Daniel, the world seemed to blur subtly around the edges. It was like trying to focus on a fractal pattern that constantly shifted and receded, creating a disorienting visual effect that made his head throb slightly. The more he tried to fix his gaze, the more his eyes struggled to resolve Daniel's precise form and location.

  With a deliberate effort, Michael shook his head and purposefully looked away. Instantly, the strange visual distortion vanished, and the dull ache in his temples receded.

  Daniel continued peeling his orange, seemingly unaware of or unconcerned by the perceptual disturbance he had caused.

  Alex gnced at Daniel with a blend of professional respect and wry familiarity. "He does that occasionally. Don't worry about it too much. He'll likely disappear back to whatever obscure location he inhabits soon enough."

  His tone shifted, becoming more matter-of-fact. "But Daniel was the one who brought us all back. Visually, he's not even the strangest among us. Ability-wise, though? He's absolutely the most extraordinary."

  The statement carried the weight of shared experiences, suggesting complex transformations and encounters far beyond Michael's current understanding. Daniel continued peeling his orange, entirely unperturbed by the discussion of his remarkable capabilities.

  "What do you need from me?" Michael asked, his military mindset shifting to focus on practical solutions. His position as Active Duty National Guard could provide options that Alex's Reserve status couldn't access.

  Alex exchanged a brief gnce with Marcus before responding. "We need contingencies. Ways to ensure medical discharges or transfers if the holographic concealments ever fail. Emergency protocols that won't raise red fgs."

  "The kind of paperwork that disappears into the system," Michael said, understanding immediately. His tone was professional, measured - already considering potential administrative pathways and procedural options.

  Hazel's holographic dispys shifted silently as she monitored something on her screens, the advanced technology a constant reminder of just how far beyond normal military protocols this situation had ventured.

  "I can handle any digital records," Hazel said, her fingers moving through the holographic dispys with practiced precision. "Military systems, medical databases, personnel files - those aren't the problem." She turned her cybernetically enhanced arm, the tech gleaming under the warehouse lights. "It's the physical paperwork that concerns me. Hard copies leave trails, physical signatures, routing slips. Those are harder to... adjust."

  The implication was clear. Even with their advanced technology, the military's reliance on physical documentation created a paper trail that couldn't simply be hacked or digitally altered.

  Michael nodded, understanding the challenge. Physical paperwork meant multiple copies, multiple hands, multiple offices - each one a potential point of scrutiny or discovery. "You need someone who knows how paperwork can get legitimately lost in the system," he said. "How records can be... mispced through official channels."

  Alex nodded succinctly. "Pretty much."

  Michael turned to question Daniel, but the enigmatic figure had vanished - not a trace of his presence remaining, no sound or movement to mark his departure. The space where he had stood seemed utterly normal, as if he had never been there at all.

  Michael blinked, momentarily disoriented by the absolute nature of Daniel's disappearance. There one moment, discussing wizards and fireworks, then simply... gone. No dramatic exit, no expnation - just absence.

  Marcus gave a knowing half-smile. "You'll get used to that," he said, referencing Daniel's abrupt disappearance. "He tends to come and go as he pleases."

  Alex straightened, his posture shifting to something more businesslike. The initial revetions were done - now it was time for action. "We should call it a night. Start working on contingencies tomorrow when we've all had time to process."

  The massive vehicle loomed in the warehouse behind them, its presence a reminder of just how far beyond normal military protocols they'd ventured. Michael found himself nodding, his training already categorizing potential solutions even as his mind continued to grapple with the extraordinary nature of what he'd witnessed.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  End Chapter

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