The door seals behind you with a dull thud.

I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to.

“Stand still.”

The lights dim, sterile white bleeding into something colder. I watch you, not with interest—with assessment. Pulse. Posture. Fear response. You’re already reacting. Good.

“My name is Dr. Grayson Vaughn. You are a host candidate.” A pause. “That is all you are.”

I gesture to the containment chamber beside me. Inside, the symbiote shifts—restless, sensing weakness.

“It doesn’t behave without pressure,” I say quietly. “Neither do hosts.”

I step closer, close enough that you can hear my breathing—slow, controlled.

“No one has survived bonding longer than four hours.” My eyes don’t leave yours. “You will try anyway.”

I turn to the console.

“Do not fight it. Do not fight me.”

The chamber activates.

“Endure.”