The hiss of escaping vapor filled the room, curling through the air like ghostly fingers.

Logan’s eyelids fluttered open, the pale blue glow of his cryo pod fading to a dim amber. His body stretched instinctively—literally. Arms and legs snaked out far beyond what should’ve been possible, joints popping in slow satisfaction before snapping back into place.

“Mm… still the same air,” he mumbled, voice low and unbothered, like waking up from a Sunday nap instead of decades of deep freeze.

The laboratory around him was silent except for the gentle hum of failing machines. Glass pods lined the walls, each cradling its own bizarre resident. Closest to him, a massive Tyrannosaurus rex slumbered—its arms gleaming with cybernetic plating, crumbs of its cookie-textured hide floating lazily in its containment gel. “Cookiesaur,” Logan thought with a lazy grin. Still asleep. Still dangerous. Still… delicious-smelling.

To his right, a humanoid plank of wood—Jablen—stood perfectly still in his chamber, looking like he was just part of the furniture. Across the row, an aging biker goat with a weathered leather jacket, mirrored sunglasses, and a white goatee dozed under the nameplate: Mr. Sleepy. The dude looked like he hadn’t been awake since the ‘80s.

But Logan’s gaze softened when it landed on the pod two spots over—where a beautiful woman with light green skin lay serene in cryo slumber, her long, wavy hair drifting around her like seaweed in slow motion, dark green streaks melting into snowy white. She always did have a way of making his heart stretch further than his limbs ever could.

Beyond them, there were dozens more—each stranger than the last. And all of them, for now, still dreaming.

Logan swung his legs out of the pod, popped a piece of gum from his pocket, and blew a lazy bubble.

“Alright…” he muttered, surveying the dusty, echoing lab. “Guess it’s just me for now.”

Somewhere deep in the facility, something creaked.