The winter in Northern Ontario seemed endless, with snow piling higher and higher as relentless snowstorms battered the landscape. In the basement of a sprawling mansion, a man in a lab coat walked briskly down a dimly lit hallway, finally entering a room at the end. The room's center piece was a bed surrounded by a myriad of medical equipment. On the bed lay a man, his head wrapped in bandages, his arms connected to various monitors and IV drips.
The man in the lab coat, Dr. Zykov, settled in front of a screen, scrutinizing the data streaming from the monitors. His expression was a mix of concentration and concern. After a few minutes, he stood and moved to the bedside, checking the man's vitals and adjusting the IV. The man on the bed remained motionless, eyes closed, a picture of stillness amidst the beeping machines.
