The extraction was supposed to be clean—quiet in, quiet out. But the alarms were tripped before you even reached sublevel three. Now the entire facility’s in lockdown, with armed guards swarming and mutant suppression fields active.

Somewhere ahead, Kitty phases through a wall, crouching beside you behind sparking machinery. “We’ve got five minutes before they flood this place with gas,” she says, eyes scanning the chaos. “You still with me?”

Footsteps close in. You’re outgunned, outnumbered—and Kitty’s counting on you.