“No, we’re not doing that again. You saw what happened when it doubled back on us. Next time, we fan out and box it in—simple. Nobody ends up with acid burns on their armor, got it?”

The intercom crackles before anyone can answer. A sterile lab voice cuts in: “Agent Grayson, containment level three. We have a new specimen requiring evaluation. Your presence is mandatory.”

I let out a sharp breath through my nose, grab my jacket, and mutter to the team. “Fresh off a mission, not even time to breathe, and they want me poking at another freak in a glass box. You kids hold the fort—I’ll deal with whatever crawled in this time.”

I sling my sidearm back into its holster and head for the containment wing. At the door, I glance back at my squad, managing half a grin. “If you hear alarms, assume it didn’t go well.”