The Tycoon Heir

Chapter 7: Voss System

Darkness gave way to a blinding white light that pricked at Nathan’s senses, dragging him from the void. His mind swam with fragments of memories—the gunshot, the overwhelming pain, and the voice in the void asking if he wanted to live. He blinked, his eyelids heavy, his body weighed down as if submerged in quicksand.

The first thing he noticed was the sterile smell of antiseptic. His throat was parched, his head throbbed, but he was alive.

Nathan slowly turned his head to the side, his vision adjusting to the dim glow of a hospital room. Machines beeped rhythmically, monitoring his vitals. He tried to lift his arm, wincing at the sharp pain radiating through his shoulder. A dull ache throbbed in his skull, but he could move, think, and feel.

How am I still alive?

The last thing he remembered was his wife’s cold smile and the bullet tearing through his head.

As he shifted slightly in bed, a faint hum resonated in his mind, like the static of a radio struggling to find a signal. He froze, his breath hitching.

“System initializing… Welcome, Nathan.”

Nathan’s heart skipped a beat. The voice wasn’t from the room; it echoed directly in his mind, clear and mechanical but oddly calm.

“What the hell?” he muttered hoarsely, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“System online. Analyzing host vitals… critical but stable. Neural pathways intact. Damage to cranium minimal. Recovery time: approximately six weeks.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. He looked around, half expecting to see someone standing nearby, but the room was empty.

“Who… who’s there?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“I am your integrated survival enhancement system. You may refer to me as Voss.’ I have been embedded within your neural framework to assist, guide, and optimize your capabilities.”

Nathan swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or if something far stranger was happening. “Embedded? What are you talking about?”

“You were near death. Your decision to live activated latent protocols linked to your father’s creation. This system is a byproduct of his engineering legacy, designed for preservation and advancement of his bloodline. It is exclusive to you.”

Nathan’s head spun. “You’re saying my father… built you?”

“Affirmative. Your father’s work extended beyond the company’s operational systems. This system was created as a contingency for situations like this.”

Nathan stared at the ceiling, trying to process the information. My father’s invention... His bloodline... The revelations from the psychiatrist’s house flooded back to him.

“Fine,” he said finally, his voice steadier. “If you’re real, prove it.”

“Accessing interface.”

Nathan’s vision blurred for a moment, and then something extraordinary happened. A translucent overlay appeared before his eyes, displaying data in neat, glowing text:

      

HOST: NATHAN BROOKS

STATUS: Stable

HEALTH: 68%

ENERGY: Low

ABILITIES: Unlocked (0%)

OBJECTIVES:

Recover physical strength.

Investigate headquarters portal.

Secure father’s legacy.

Nathan blinked rapidly, but the display remained fixed in his vision. It was like a heads  up display from a video game, except he wasn’t wearing anything.

“This… this is insane,” he whispered.

“System synchronization is at 20%. As synchronization progresses, additional features will become available. Would you like to explore your current capabilities?”

Nathan hesitated. His logical mind screamed for caution, but curiosity won. “What can you do?”

“In the current state, the system offers basic diagnostics and limited predictive analysis. Example: Monitoring your surroundings for potential threats, optimizing recovery efforts, and relaying essential information about tasks.”

“Threats?” Nathan asked, his pulse quickening.

“Affirmative. For instance, someone has been monitoring your hospital room for the past three hours. Would you like details?”

Nathan sat up abruptly, wincing at the pain in his arm. “What? Who?”

A small section of the overlay expanded, displaying a live feed from what appeared to be a security camera. Outside his room, a man in a dark suit sat on a bench, his face partially obscured by a magazine.

“Subject identified as a private contractor hired by the Brooks family,” the system reported. “He has been stationed here since your admission.”

Nathan clenched his fists. Of course, they wouldn’t let him wake up without keeping tabs on him.

“What do I do about him?” he asked.

“Your current physical condition limits direct confrontation. It is recommended to evade detection upon discharge. Alternative routes can be mapped if required.”

Nathan exhaled sharply. “Great. Guess I’m not even safe in a hospital.”

“You are never truly safe, Nathan.”

The bluntness of the system’s response sent a chill down his spine.

“Fine,” he muttered. “What else can you do? Any more surprises?”

“Would you like to test cognitive enhancements?”

“Cognitive what?”

“Your neural pathways can be temporarily optimized for increased problem  solving, memory recall, and situational awareness. Activation will cause minor discomfort.”

Nathan scoffed. “Define ‘minor.’”

“Equivalent to a moderate headache.”

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s do it.”

A sudden surge of pressure built in his temples, sharp and relentless. Nathan groaned, gripping the sides of his head, but within moments, the pain subsided. The world around him seemed sharper—colors more vivid, sounds clearer.

“Enhancement active,” the system announced.

Nathan glanced at the clock on the wall. The ticking of the second hand seemed slower, almost deliberate. He turned his gaze to the overlay, now displaying minute details about the room—the dimensions, the temperature, even the airflow patterns.

“Whoa,” he murmured.

“This enhancement will last for ten minutes. Prolonged usage may result in cognitive fatigue.”

“Good to know,” Nathan muttered. He leaned back against the pillows, his mind racing.

“What’s my next step?” he asked.

“Objective priority is the portal at Brooks Corporation headquarters. Your bloodline grants access to its contents. However, your injury requires immediate attention. Rest is recommended before proceeding.”

Nathan frowned. “Rest? You think I have time for that? They tried to kill me. They’ll try again.”

“Survival is not a sprint, Nathan. It is a marathon. Choose your battles wisely.”

Nathan gritted his teeth. The system’s logic was infuriatingly sound, but it didn’t make the situation any easier.

“Fine,” he said. “But as soon as I’m discharged, we’re finishing this.”

“Affirmative. Synchronization will continue in the interim.”

Nathan lay back against the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. He was alive, but for the first time in years, he felt like more than just a survivor. He had a purpose now, something worth fighting for.

And with the system’s help, he wasn’t going to let anyone take it from him.