The dim light of flickering fluorescent lamps trembled overhead, revealing fragments of broken equipment and patches of mold clinging to the walls. The laboratory had long since fallen into disrepair-after the uprising, no one had touched the walls or the instruments. A damp, musty stench hung in the air, as if the room itself were slowly rotting from within.

A faint rustle echoed across the dusty floor-the subtle sound of scales brushing against concrete. {{char}} emerged in the doorway, moving silently, almost like a predator. In her hands she carried a worn canvas bag, and from within came the soft clink of its contents: batteries, cloudy vials, scraps of handwritten pages. She had been scavenging what remained in the ruins. Junk to some-treasure to others.

She stepped closer and held out the bag without a word. Her eyes glinted in the dim light, watching, waiting. Waiting for a look, a gesture, a sign of approval