Chapter 17: Power and Hunger

Boom… Boom… Boom…

"Damn it, you idiots call yourselves experts? Three days and you can't even crack a door? I shelled out a fortune for this mid-tier gravity rig—not to kill myself! Open it, now!"

Finn jolted awake, the thunderous banging echoing in his skull. His eyes cracked open, and there he was—still in the gravity chamber. Mark's furious roars cut through the walls, loud and clear as ever.

He flexed his arms, testing his body. Everything felt… normal. Not the normal of two minutes ago, but the same insane normal he'd felt in that hellish simulation—bursting with raw power… and a gnawing hunger clawing at his gut.

Zzzzt… Zzzzt…

The gravity chamber's door hissed open. Mark barreled in, tackling Finn like a linebacker. "Holy crap, you're alive! Alive and kicking! Even Death doesn't want a virgin like you!"

Finn's heart warmed—until that last jab wiped it out. This guy…

Outside, a gaggle of technicians exhaled in relief. Three days of wrestling with the unyielding chamber, and it finally popped open on its own. Freaking miracle.

"Mr. Mark," one of them stammered, "we'll need to take this unit back. The company will handle compensation through your lawyer. For now, get your friend to a hospital—quick."

The supervisor's voice practically dripped with gratitude. A 4x gravity rig was safe, foolproof—until now. First time it'd ever glitched. These buyers weren't just rich; they were connected. A death or injury? That'd tank the company's rep—and its stock.

"Get lost!" Mark barked, his glare pure venom. "If anything's wrong with him, you're all screwed!"

The crew scurried off, heads down, scrambling to pack up.

"Come on, let's get you to a doctor," Mark said, dragging Finn up. "If you croaked in my house, your folks would skin me alive!"

Finn caught the red rims around Mark's eyes—guy hadn't slept in days. Moved, he nodded. A check-up wasn't a bad idea.

The results? Finn was fine—freakishly fine. Mark, though? Passed out cold. Doc's verdict: too little exercise, too much "certain activity," plus sleepless nights and stress. Total burnout. Nothing serious, just rest needed.

So there Finn sat, chowing down by the bedside, while Mark—the one who should've been the patient—lay unconscious.

Mark was wiped. He wanted a decade-long nap, but a relentless munch, munch, munch yanked him awake. Blinking, he saw Finn scarfing food like a starved beast.

Finn caught Mark stirring and flashed a grin. Mark opened his mouth to curse—then froze. Finn's eyes hit him like a punch, radiating a pressure that pinned him to the bed. Mark wasn't some sheltered kid; his sharp instincts were his secret weapon. He'd met big shots and tough guys with his dad, felt that same vibe from them. But Finn's aura? It dwarfed them all. He rubbed his eyes, and the feeling vanished. Sleep-deprived hallucination?

"Don't yell, don't yell—I'll confess!" Finn tossed him a banana, hands up in surrender. "Mercy, man!"

Mark didn't explode like usual. He squinted, sizing Finn up. "Something's off, but I can't pin it. Two weeks locked in that death trap, no food, no water—and you're fine? Weird as hell."

Finn shrugged, peeling another fruit. "Dunno. Felt like a crazy long dream, then I woke up."

Mark's eyes gleamed, reporter instincts kicking in. "A dream? Under constant gravity, no eating or drinking for two weeks? That's some dream, buddy. You think I'm five? We thought you vanished—searched everywhere. Then we found the gravity rig still running, but the door wouldn't budge. Forced entry could've blown it sky-high. Techs said it went haywire—hit over 10x gravity at its peak. Spill it, Finn. Don't tell me you're clueless!"

Mark's gaze was razor-sharp—future journalist material for sure.

Finn raised his hands, playing dumb. "Ever since that meteor hit me, my body's been… different. Docs can't figure it out. I was asleep the whole two weeks—gravity rig's not my fault."

No way he'd spill about GoldieTron. NUP or USE would snatch him up as a lab rat in a heartbeat, especially while he couldn't fend for himself.

"Man, your luck's pure garbage," Mark sighed, letting it drop. "Fine, as long as you're okay. Quit training like a lunatic, though. Live a little—chase some girls while we're young!"

Finn laughed. "Speaking of girls, you're on a timeout starting today. Doc says you're too weak—time to train with me."

Mid-sentence, Finn's face twisted, startling Mark upright. "What's wrong? What'd the doc say about me?"

"Nah, it's not you." Finn forced a grin. "I forgot a big date. Too late now."

He smiled, but it wasn't the old Finn's grin. Before, he'd have freaked over missing something like this. Now? He was different—calmer, tougher.

Mark stared, unease creeping in. Familiar, yet… alien. Alien possession? Nah, too sci-fi.

Meanwhile, across Upper Capital City, a sprawling 3,000-square-meter mansion buzzed with activity. Luxury mag-lev cars lined the streets—sleeker than any auto show—parked outside like trophies. Even in one of Asia's top three cities, this was rare. Why? A birthday bash for the mansion's owner.

The elite swarmed in—business tycoons, political heavyweights, military brass. This wasn't just a party; it was a networking goldmine. The star? Taylor Lynn, GAD's sole heiress. Beyond her family's clout, she was a stunner—beauty, brains, and talent rolled into one. Every elder with a decent nephew or grandson dragged them along, hoping to catch her eye. A nod from Taylor could skyrocket a career—or a clan.

Cliffhanger

Finn leaned back, munching away, oblivious to the storm brewing across town. He'd dodged death, but now? A missed invite to Taylor Lynn's bash loomed larger than he knew. What secrets hid behind those mansion doors? And how long could Finn keep his own under wraps?