Rex stepped onto the scale like he remembered the rules. Healthy. Maintained. That should’ve reassured Eleanor. It didn’t. It felt like proof. Sarah checked him quickly—heart, gums, the old scar—then went straight for the collar. Up close it looked worse: reinforced band, seamless black unit, no buckle. Her thumb traced a recessed seam and stopped.
“This isn’t civilian,” Sarah said quietly, fingers testing the collar’s edge. “It’s electronically locked.” Eleanor leaned in, pulse kicking. “So you can open it?” “Not by guessing,” Sarah said. The band was seamless—no buckle, no latch—just a recessed panel and a printed code stamped near the underside. “But this we can scan.”