Carlos’ vision suddenly went black.

Not darkness.

Absence.

Sound vanished with it. For a moment, all he could see was a field of shifting black static, like reality itself had lost signal. Then, slowly, an image began to emerge at the center of his vision. Fragmented shapes bled into existence piece by piece until the static finally faded and the world around him became clear.

Carlos staggered slightly.

He looked down at himself and froze.

This was not his body.

The first thing he noticed was that he was shirtless. The second was the unfamiliar definition across his stomach and chest. Six-pack abs. Lean muscle stretched across a frame that felt stronger, lighter, somehow more capable than the body he knew. A strange thrill moved through him. Even standing felt different.

Then he became aware of the others around him.

At first glance they looked vaguely humanoid, but the resemblance ended there. Their bodies were uneven and lumpy, their movements slow and swaying as they clustered together nearby. None of them spoke. They simply stood there as if they already understood where they were supposed to be.

Carlos, however, did not.

A faint unease crept through him as he looked around. The air felt wrong somehow. Thinner. The light carried a dull tint he couldn’t place. Wherever this was, it wasn’t Earth.

The creatures continued shifting subtly among themselves, and Carlos found himself studying them, trying to understand what exactly he was looking at.

Then one of them caught his attention.

It was lumpier than the others, its shape awkward and asymmetrical, but the moment Carlos looked into its eyes, he felt a sudden jolt of recognition.

Immediately, impossibly, he knew.

Behind those alien eyes was Mark Turner, his friend from high school.

The realization settled over him all at once.

This wasn’t random.

This wasn’t a dream.

This was his first mission.