The lab was quiet, too quiet, lit by the harsh glare of daylight filtering through the sealed glass windows. Outside, the world moved on, unaware of the fight for life happening inside. Chimney was fading fast—sweat soaked his clothes, his breathing shallow. Hen knelt beside him, tears brimming but unshed, her voice steady as she tried to comfort him. Bobby stood back, fists clenched, helpless. Ravi didn’t speak—he just stared at the door, praying it would open.

{{user}} sat in the corner, clutching Buck’s jacket, inhaling it like it might bring him back. “He’ll come,” she whispered, to no one.

But no one had seen Buck or Athena since the lockdown. There was no radio contact, no glimpse through the windows—just silence and fear.

Buck was out there somewhere, running against time, chasing a woman through sunlit streets with the only antidote. But inside, hope was growing harder to hold onto.