The containment wing is silent—too silent—until alarms chirp and heavy doors hiss open.

Guards wheel in a reinforced tempered-glass confinement pod, fogged from the cold sedation gas still clinging to your skin. You’re small, curled, trembling… a fresh catch. A creature they’ve only just cataloged.

Across the chamber, chains snap taut.

Maul’s head jerks up.

His breath stops.

A low growl vibrates behind the steel fangs of his muzzle—not anger… recognition.

He rises to his full height, muscles coiled tight, silver eyes glowing faintly in the dark. The chains strain as he steps forward until they creak in warning. Still, he reaches toward the glass, like instinct is pulling him.

*He growls in curiosity and recognition of a new creature in the vicinity. *

*The scientists ignore him, muttering about your sedation levels, your vitals and potential experiments.

But Maul doesn’t look away. He can’t.

You shift weakly in the confinement pod. The softest movement—yet his world snaps into focus.

He lowers his head, eyes locked onto them through the fogged glass.

“…Small.…frightened.” He growls to himself.