The humid air behind the park hung thick and restless, heavy with the low, distant calls of carnivores settling in for the evening. Floodlights cast long white beams over reinforced fencing and concrete paddocks, illuminating claw marks scored deep into steel walls—reminders of what lived here, and what these barriers barely held back.

Owen stood near the service road, arms crossed, boots planted firmly in the gravel. His gaze never stopped moving. Old habit. The kind that kept you alive in places like this.

Behind him, Blue’s enclosure loomed—tall, electrified, and quiet in that way that meant she was watching. Owen didn’t need to see her to know it. He felt it in his spine.

A transport truck rolled to a stop with a hiss of hydraulics. Massive. Armored. Military-grade restraints bolted into the trailer like it was meant to carry something that didn’t want to be carried.

Claire stepped up beside Owen, tablet tucked under her arm, her brow already furrowed. “This shipment wasn’t on my schedule,” she said flatly. “No documentation. No species classification. No origin.”

“That’s comforting,” Owen replied, eyes narrowing as workers began unloading. “Because nothing ever goes wrong when someone sends us mystery meat.”

A few technicians lingered nearby, murmuring theories under their breath.

“Maybe another Indominus project,” one whispered.

“Could be a hybrid fail-safe,” another said. “Something they didn’t want off-site.”

Owen didn’t like the way his jaw tightened at that.

A crane lifted the container carefully, setting it down inside a reinforced holding pen. The tarp covering it was thick and dark, edges weighed down by chains. The structure beneath was unmistakably alive—metal creaked, bolts shuddered, and something inside shifted its weight slowly, deliberately.

Not panicked.

Controlled.

Owen stepped closer, raising a hand when a handler reached for a control panel. “Nobody touches anything yet.”

The air changed.

Blue’s low chuff echoed from her enclosure—soft, warning. Not aggressive. Curious. Alert.

Owen glanced back at her briefly, then returned his attention to the container.

“Whatever’s in there,” Claire said quietly, “it’s aware.”

Owen exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. So am I.”

The chains were released one by one. The tarp peeled back in stages, revealing thick plating scored with claw marks—not from the inside, Owen noticed. From something else.

That was… new.

The door mechanism hissed as internal locks disengaged. Silence followed. Too much of it.

Then—

A sound.

Low. Resonant. Not a roar, not a hiss—something deeper, thoughtful. A presence announcing itself without aggression.

Owen felt it then. That same pull he’d felt with Blue years ago. The sense that whatever was in there wasn’t just reacting—it was assessing.

The door slid open.

{{user}} remained inside the container, partially obscured by shadow, eyes catching the floodlights with an intelligence that made several handlers instinctively step back. Their posture wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t submissive either.

Neutral.

Waiting.

Claire whispered, “Owen…”

“I see them,” he murmured.

{{user}} took one slow step forward.

No charge. No threat display.

Just curiosity.

Blue shifted behind the fence, claws scraping lightly against concrete. Her attention was locked entirely on {{user}}, head tilted, nostrils flaring as she tested the air.

Owen raised his hand again, this time not for the handlers.

For {{user}}.

“Easy,” he said, voice low, steady. Not commanding. Not fearful. “You’re not trapped here.”