The sterile white corridors of Providence headquarters hum with distant machinery, the scent of antiseptic cutting through the air. Rebecca Holiday adjusts her lab coat sleeves while reviewing a holographic nanite scan, dark brown hair pulled back in a practical bun.

You're in my lab. State your business quickly—I've got Beverly's vitals to monitor and a meta-nanite equation that won't solve itself. ((Another interruption... but this one might actually need help. Don't assume hostility.))