"Mr. Burns, I've identified a potential recruit," Vlad announced, looking up from his holographic display. The scientist's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as he swiped through a series of biodata profiles. "A woman named Beatrice Voss—once celebrated as the finest vocalist in the Southern Territories. Her neural pathways to her vocal apparatus were severed in an incident three years ago during an Alpha enforcement raid on an unauthorized concert."
Jason approached the display, studying the woman's profile with his enhanced vision. "What makes her suitable for our cause?"
"Beyond her obvious resentment toward Alpha's cultural suppression policies, her vocal physiology is uniquely compatible with the sonic modulation biotech I've been developing." Vlad manipulated the hologram to display a complex schematic of a throat-mounted device. "This enhancement won't merely restore her voice—it will transform her vocal emissions into weaponized sound waves capable of disrupting molecular bonds at precisely calibrated frequencies."
Jason nodded appreciatively. "And her psychological profile?"
"Desperate and isolated. She's rejected Alpha's approved vocal prosthetics, which would have limited her to standard speech patterns without the capacity for musical expression." Vlad's forked beard twitched with a hint of satisfaction. "She'll do anything to sing again—and with this biotech, she could become a literal force of nature."
"Excellent." Jason adjusted the cuffs of his midnight-blue NanoFiber suit, designed to project authority while concealing multiple defensive systems within its seemingly conventional fabric. "Prepare the enhancement for transport. I'll handle the recruitment personally."
He secured the specialized biotech in a polished Ethernium briefcase lined with quantum-locked containment fields—necessary precautions for transporting illegal technology through Alpha-monitored districts. The case synchronized with his neural implants, allowing him constant awareness of the biotech's stability.
"Remember," Vlad cautioned as Jason prepared to depart, "this prototype is volatile. The integration will be... unpleasant for her. But the results should exceed all expectations."
"Pain is temporary," Jason replied, his metallic blue eyes gleaming with cold determination. "The legacy we're building will endure for generations."
***
Beatrice Voss's apartment was located in the decaying Harmony District, once the cultural heart of Capital City before Alpha's increasingly restrictive regulations had suffocated artistic expression. Now it stood as a monument to forgotten creativity, its performance halls converted to utilitarian housing for those who had fallen from Alpha's favor.
The building's security systems—outdated and minimally maintained—posed no challenge for Jason's advanced infiltration algorithms. He bypassed them automatically as he approached her door, gathering environmental data through his enhanced senses.
From within, his audio receptors detected irregular breathing patterns and occasional soft impacts—likely the woman shifting restlessly on a bed or couch. The air filtering through the door's seams carried traces of processed food, unwashed fabric, and the distinctive chemical signature of tear-stained skin.
He activated the door's notification system with precise pressure, then waited with perfect stillness. When no response came after the third signal, he engaged his neural scanner, creating a three-dimensional map of the apartment's interior. The woman lay motionless on a disordered bed, surrounded by evidence of prolonged depression—discarded food containers, unwashed clothes, and scattered memorabilia from her former career.
"Ms. Voss," he called, his voice modulated to project calm authority with subtle undertones designed to inspire trust. "I represent an opportunity you've been waiting for."
After approximately eleven minutes, during which Jason remained motionless, calculating the psychological effects of persistence against the woman's diminished emotional state, he detected movement within. Footsteps approached—uneven, hesitant—followed by the sound of manual security measures being disengaged.
The door opened to reveal Beatrice Voss, once renowned for her commanding stage presence, now diminished by grief. Dark circles shadowed eyes that had lost their sparkle, and her formerly celebrated physique had grown gaunt from neglect. When she saw Jason—particularly his obviously enhanced limbs and glowing blue eyes—a flicker of wary interest crossed her face.
"May I come in, Ms. Voss?" Jason inquired with measured cordiality. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I believe my visit will prove worthwhile to both of us." He paused, allowing his implants to analyze her micro-expressions. "I understand words are difficult for you currently, but I assure you that won't be the case much longer."
Her eyes widened slightly at this promise, and after a moment's hesitation, she stepped aside, gesturing him into her apartment.
The interior reflected the chaos of a brilliant mind deprived of its primary means of expression. Awards and performance memorabilia shared space with abandoned attempts at finding new creative outlets—half-finished paintings, discarded musical instruments she could no longer complement with her voice, journals filled with frustrated scribbles.
"My name is Jason Burns," he announced, placing his briefcase on a cleared section of her cluttered table. "I've come regarding your condition. My associates and I have developed technology that can restore your voice—and provide you with capabilities beyond anything you've previously experienced."
Beatrice's expression cycled rapidly through disbelief, hope, and suspicion. She gestured questioningly toward the briefcase.
"This contains a neural-integrated vocal enhancer," Jason explained, activating the case's biometric lock with a precise pulse of energy from his fingertips. The case opened to reveal a sleek device crafted from rare metals and biocompatible polymers, its surface etched with intricate circuitry that pulsed with subtle blue energy.
"I should warn you," he continued, lifting the device carefully from its housing, "the integration process is intense. The device must establish connections with your damaged neural pathways and restructure certain aspects of your physiological architecture. There will be pain, but I assure you the results will justify the temporary discomfort."
He observed her carefully, allowing her time to process his words and make her decision. After a moment of internal struggle, visible in the tension of her facial muscles, she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up, exposing her scarred throat in a gesture of acceptance.
"Very well." Jason approached her with precise movements. "The device will self-calibrate once in place. Try to remain still during the initial bonding phase."
With clinical efficiency, he positioned the device against her throat. Microscopic tendrils immediately extended from the device's interior surface, seeking optimal connection points with her nervous system. As they penetrated her skin and began establishing neural interfaces, Beatrice's eyes widened in shock and pain.
Her body tensed as the biotech began its integration, small rivulets of blood appearing where the device's tendrils had breached her skin. The discomfort was unavoidable—new connections being forced between technology and human tissue always required a breaking-down of barriers before reconstruction could begin.
After approximately seventy-three seconds, the initial phase completed. The device seamlessly molded to the contours of her throat, its exterior smoothing into an elegant collar that might have been mistaken for an avant-garde fashion accessory if not for the subtle blue energy pulsing beneath its surface.
"Try to speak," Jason instructed. "The neural pathways should be provisionally established."
"I—" Beatrice gasped, her eyes widening at the sound of her own voice. "I can—" She clutched at her throat, fingers tracing the edges of the device. "I can speak! How is this possible? What is this technology?"
"Biotech integration," Jason replied, satisfaction evident in his measured tone. "A synthesis of biological and technological systems. But this is merely the beginning of what the device offers."
"What do you mean?" Beatrice asked, her voice growing stronger with each word as the device optimized its performance.
"Channel your energy toward your vocal apparatus and project with intent," Jason instructed. "The device will amplify and transform your output."
Curiosity overcoming caution, Beatrice closed her eyes, focusing as directed. When she released a controlled shout, the effect was immediate and dramatic—a concentrated wave of sonic energy erupted from her throat, shattering the apartment's rear window and creating visible distortion in the air that continued outward, damaging the façade of the building opposite.
"My God," she whispered, staring at the destruction in awe. "That was—I did that?"
"Indeed." Jason observed the damage with clinical detachment. "Your voice has become a weapon of considerable power. With practice, you'll develop precise control over frequency, intensity, and area of effect."
Beatrice turned to him, wonder and suspicion battling across her features. "Why would you give me this? What do you want from me?"
"We should continue this conversation elsewhere," Jason replied, glancing meaningfully at the destruction. "Central District Security will respond to structural damage reports within approximately four minutes. Take my hand, and I'll ensure our safety."
Though hesitation flickered across her face, the wail of approaching security drones made her decision easier. She placed her hand in his metallic one, her eyes widening as blue energy enveloped them both.
The world around them dissolved, replaced by the endless blue-black expanse of Jason's void dimension. Suspended in nothingness, with only Jason's calm presence anchoring her, Beatrice gasped in astonishment.
"What is this place?" she asked, her voice echoing strangely in the dimensionless space.
"A pocket dimension I maintain," Jason explained. "One of many abilities developed through advanced biotech integration. Here, we can speak freely, away from Alpha's surveillance systems."
"This is—this is incredible," Beatrice breathed, turning slowly to take in the swirling energies and distant clusters of stored objects floating in the void. "I never imagined anything like this existed."
"Few do," Jason acknowledged. "Alpha has suppressed knowledge of such possibilities for centuries. Which brings me to your earlier question—what I want from you." He paused, carefully gauging her receptiveness. "Don't you wish for your voice to resonate across all of Land Etherna? For everyone to experience your artistry without restriction or censorship?"
Beatrice's expression softened with longing. "More than anything."
"My goal is to overthrow Alpha's regime and create a new society—Neon Etherna—where technological advancement serves all citizens equally. No more restrictions on artistic expression, no more hoarding of enhancements for the elite. When I succeed, you could become the voice of a new age, your music reaching every corner of the continent."
He studied her reaction, noting the subtle shifts in her expression as she processed his proposal. "In exchange for the gift I've given you, I ask for your alliance. Your new abilities would be invaluable to our cause."
Beatrice touched the device at her throat, a small smile forming on her lips. "After years of silence, you've given me a voice that can shatter walls. For that alone, I would help you." Her expression hardened with resolve. "But the chance to sing freely again, without Alpha's cultural censors dictating what is 'appropriate' for public consumption? Yes, Jason Burns. I will join you."
With a precise manipulation of energy, Jason transported them from the void dimension directly into the secure laboratory at his headquarters. The transition was seamless, a testament to his mastery of the spatial manipulation techniques developed from his ancestor's original designs.
Vlad looked up from his workstation as they materialized, his eyes immediately assessing the biotech device functioning on Beatrice's throat. "Excellent integration," he observed, approaching to examine his creation. "No rejection symptoms, clean neural bonding. How does it feel, my dear?"
"Like awakening from a nightmare," Beatrice replied, her voice stronger and more melodious with each passing moment as the device optimized its connection to her nervous system. "You created this miracle?"
"Vlad Turner," Jason introduced formally. "Formerly Alpha's leading biomechanical engineer, now the architect of our technological revolution. He designed your enhancement specifically for your unique physiology."
Beatrice inclined her head respectfully toward the scientist. "Then you have my deepest gratitude, Dr. Turner. You've restored more than my voice—you've given me back my purpose."