They breathed open—like a creature inhaling—and the space beyond was… wrong.
Not dangerous.
Not threatening.
Worse.
It felt familiar.
Julia frowned. “Hawk… is that—?”
“It looks like my old barracks,” I said quietly.
Concrete walls. Cinderblock corners. The exact layout of my first unit housing. The bunks. The footlockers. Even the damn coffee pot on the metal shelf I’d dented with an elbow after a twelve-mile ruck.
Perfect. Too perfect.
Julia stepped in and the lights flicked on overhead.
Lyric’s voice echoed calmly through the space.
“Reese designed Level 4 to emulate the environment where your most defining decision was made.”
Julia looked at me. “What decision?”
But I already knew.
My chest tightened painfully.
“No,” I whispered. “He wouldn’t…”
Lyric continued, mercilessly soothing:
“This is where you made the call that determined the trajectory of your career—and the destruction of someone else’s.”
Julia’s eyes snapped toward me. “Hawk—what is she talking about?”
Before I could answer—
A figure stepped out from behind the bunks.
A man.
Tall.
Fit.
Dark hair cropped tight.
Ford.
I couldn’t move. My pulse roared in my ears.
Julia lifted her weapon. “Hawk?”
I forced words out. “It’s not him. Ford’s dead. He died overseas eight years ago.”
The hologram looked up.
