The soldiers shifted into motion, two flanking Sera on each side with one behind her and one ahead. The formation was meant for mutants who ran. Or bit. Or exploded.
Sera did none of those.
She stepped forward when they expected it.
Not because they commanded it.
Because she wanted to see the hallway.
The floor changed first.
The tiles outside her cell were a dull, worn composite. Cheap. Functional. Barely better than the cracked asphalt of the border.
One step beyond that, the tiles became polished metal—mirror-smooth, seamless plates that reflected light in sterile silver ribbons. The air changed with it, crisp and cold, with a faint trace of something citrus sharp enough to sting the back of her throat.
Acidic cleanser, her creature noted lazily. A level used to dissolve organic residue. They expect their work in this hall to be messy.
That made Sera smile.
Doctor Kearns nearly tripped watching the monitor instead of her feet.
