I find myself in the company bazaar again. Not looking to buy anything, just exploring more of this seemingly endless commercial space. I've got one hour before I need to head back to Kuo Kuana to continue my work and oversee the shipgirls' education, as there are things that Kali isn't capable of teaching them.

This hour proves fruitful as I quickly achieve my objective: collecting pamphlets and business cards from bulk merchants, which thankfully exist as well. The staff members wandering around are more than willing to point you in the right direction, even if the countless maps and signs displayed everywhere aren't enough.

There's a merchant for every trade here, each with their own niche. One guy's all about Mecha-shift weapons - ten for 1 credit, but they've gotta meet his quality standards. It's all there on his business card. No use trying to pawn off subpar gear.

Another's after cocaine, fifty kilos for five credits, and it better have a 99% purity or he won't even look at it. So much for the idea of just stealing a weapon shop or busting the many labs in the mega cities and making a quick profit. I would have to be the one producing these goods if I want to reach those standards and earn something.

There are more examples, but some of these merchants are asking for stuff I've never even heard of in Remnant. What's really got me curious, though, is how they all look the same - black hooded robes, faceless except for two glowing green eyes. Weird coincidence, but it's opened up another way for me to earn credits when fighting off invaders becomes much more dangerous than its worth.

Still, this whole system confuses me a lot. The economics, especially the scale of it all... I mean, some contractors have entire planets, if not galaxies, churning out a single product. It's mind-boggling when trying to make sense of it.

I'll probably never fully grasp how this multiversal company economy works, but I don't need to. I just need to accept it and figure out how to use it to my advantage.

I stash all the business cards into my pockets and head back to the lift, pressing the button for the highest floor. The lift ascends smoothly, ignoring the generic music, depositing me at the entrance to the food court. At least, that's what I assume this place is called.

Navigating through the bustling venue, I sense a few curious glances darting my way, but I brush them off. The food court sprawls out before me, a labyrinth of eateries and neon signs. I spot a row of brand names and symbols I've never seen before, but one stands up from the rest in my vision.

Those garish golden arches, that unmistakable red and yellow motif—McDonald's? Here?

I stop dead in my tracks, staring at the giant yellow M for a moment before my gaze drops to the staff dressed as that stupid clown.

How the hell did McDonald's expand into the multiverse? And would it actually taste the same?

Like the ones I used to eat back... No. I'm not going there.

The aroma of fries and the faint sizzle of a fryer cut through my thoughts, dragging me back to simpler times of just worrying about studies. I exhale a heavy sigh and make my way to the self-service kiosk, where I order the quintessential Big Mac combo.

Goddammit, is this actually nostalgia?

A cheerful bell rings, drawing my attention to the clown sliding the tray towards me. The Big Mac, with its gleaming sesame seed bun and layers of beef, lettuce, cheese, pickles, and special sauce, looks exactly as I remember.

And yes, food and drinks are free in this place.

I grab my tray of food and scan the area for an empty table, or at least one that is relatively secluded from the rest. Finding one, I walkover and settle in, my back slightly against the cheap looking but surprisingly comfortable chair. I open the package box and take out my burger, the familiar scent reaching my nostril before I take a slow, deliberate bite.

And the taste... it's eerily similar to the ones I used to eat back then.

A scowl crosses my face as I forcefully push away the unbidden memory. That life is behind me. I'm not that person anymore. I've carved out a new existence, one with a new purpose and new responsibilities. This meal is nothing but a treat, nothing more, nothing less.

I dip a handful of fries into the sauce, savoring the salty crunch. As I reach for my drink, a flash of white catches my eye. There's a girl with long raven hair sitting across from me, her presence so sudden it's as if she materialized from thin air.

Her skin is a stark, unnatural white - not the pale complexion that one would call as white skin but a true, ghostly white that seems to glow faintly in the floor fluorescent lighting. Her unblinking eyes, an intense, glowing green, are fixed on me. However, it takes me a moment to realize she isn't actually staring at me, but at my tray of food. And she isn't even trying to be subtle about it.

I pause, my drink halfway to my lips, and take the opportunity to study her. At first glance, I assume she's an insectoid faunus. But then I notice the wings. Four pairs of delicate, translucent wings sprouting from her head like some bizarre hair accessory. No faunus I've ever encountered or heard of have their animal trait like that.

A Demi-human then?

Demi-humans have so many variations that it would be pointless trying to come up with a classification for each type.

Her dress is as peculiar as she is, a single black piece, accompanied by black-and-white striped sleeves that match to her overall look. Yet, the longer I observe, the more her blatant staring grates on my nerves.

"May I help you?" I finally ask, ending this charade.

My question jolts her back to reality. Those tiny wings flutter like startled moths as her glowing green eyes lock onto mine, wide and trembling. She gulps audibly. "I... um..." Her voice is soft, almost childlike. "That burger... it looks really good. Can I have it?"

I blink behind my blindfold, stunned into momentary silence. My mouth opens, then closes into a thin line before I let out an exasperated sigh. "You do realize the food here is free, right?" I say, gesturing at the sprawling food court around us. "Just go ask for your own. There are infinite options."

But the insect Demi-human looks away, her fingers twiddling nervously as her cheeks flush a pale red. "About that... I might have... overindulged a bit. They've cut me off from most places here." She turns back to me, eyes pleading. "Just a bite? Please?"

What?

I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. Confusion gives way to irritation as I pinch the bridge of my nose. This girl… woman should be around my age, yet here she is, begging for scraps like some stray cat.

"Let me get this straight," I say, my voice low and controlled. "You're a contractor, same as me. And you've managed to get yourself banned from free food?"

She nods sheepishly, those small wings going flat against her head.

I can feel a headache coming on. "Fine," I growl, shoving the tray across the table. "Take it. All of it."

"Yes!" The Demi-human snatches the tray, attacking the food with an intensity that reminds me of a starving animal. She stuffs her face without a shred of dignity or manners until, inevitably, she chokes. I watch, unmoved, as her eyes glow brighter in panic. She pounds her chest many times until she coughs up a half-chewed mess.

My lip curls in disgust as she scoops it back into her mouth, washing it down with my drink. She then crams her face with fries, at least having the sense to chew this time.

After swallowing, she slumps in the chair, lets out an obnoxiously loud burp, and sighs in satisfaction. Her eyes flutter closed, but snap open a moment later. Her face turns a deep red as she averts her gaze. "S-sorry! It's... it's been way too long since I've eaten anything. You're really a lifesaver, dude."

I narrow my eyes, glancing from the disaster on the table to her equally messy face. "Humor me," I say, crossing my arms. "How did you fall this low? I've seen homeless addicts with better manners than you."

My blunt comment earns a frown, but as she takes stock of herself, her shoulders slump. She finally grabs a napkin and starts cleaning up. "Not my best moment... but to answer your question, it's a mix of long and short stories, I guess." She pauses, scratching her chin before groaning. "Fuuuuuck, has it really been that long? I can't even remember how long I've been trapped here."

I shrug, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Whatever. Just tell me what you can remember."

Maybe I can learn something from this pitiful display. At the very least, it might serve as a cautionary tale.

She nods, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Well, I'm a company contractor like you mentioned, but with a small twist - I've got a patron." Her green eyes lock onto mine. "By the way, team possession or team substitute?"

My eyes narrow behind my mask. "I'm myself," I growl, the words coming out sharper than intended.

"Right, right. Team substitute," she nods quickly. "I'm team possession."

This fucking idiot...

She must see something in my expression because she backpedals fast. "Whoa, hey, no offense meant! I swear!" Her hands fly up in surrender, waving frantically.

"Talk," I snarl, my patience starting to wear thin.

She leans closer, squinting at me. "Wait a sec... Red hair, blindfold, horns... You're Adam, aren't you? Adam, something from that... show? Or was it a game?" She mumbles, scratching her head. "Ugh, my memory's shot lately. Anyway, like I said, I'm a contractor with a patron. And wouldn't you know it? My patron turned out to be the Fae."

That last part piques my interest. As I recall, the Fae are known for their mischievous, often malicious nature. All for their own amusement and potentially sadistic games.

"I was screwed from the start!" She forces a strained grin, giving me a thumbs up that looks more like a cry for help.

"Go on," I say, my curiosity getting the better of me. Despite my better judgment, I find myself leaning in slightly.

"Alright, so here's what I remember about that contract," she begins, her voice a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "It sounded like a dream deal. Tons of credits, decent budget, and a 'low-intensity' world. Hentai worlds are supposed to be easy and fun, right?"

I just nod. Already knowing where this is going.

She continues, her small wings twitching, "What they don't tell you is that 'hentai world' is a very broad fucking term. There are plenty of layers, you know? Like, your average visual novel world with high school drama and harems - that's one thing. Just seduce some girls or boys, fuck them, deal with some wacky logic, and you're done. A normal world, not too different from where w- I came from."

Suddenly, she buries her face in her hands, letting out a muffled scream. When she looks up, her green eyes are wild and unfocused. "But then there are the other hentai worlds. Dystopias. Deathworlds. Nightmares. Eldritch horrors masquerading as cutesy dating sims. Fuck me, even a zombie apocalypse falls under a hentai world if you can fuck in those..." She pauses and shudders. "And trust me, it only gets worse from there with the cursed tags. You get the idea, right?"

"So you were sent to one of these... less pleasant hentai worlds," I say, summarizing her rambling explanation. It's not really a question.

She nods miserably. "You have no idea. I thought I was signing up for a fun romp through some fantasy high school. Instead, I got..." She drags both hands across her face, groaning. "I signed without properly reading, okay? The fucking assholes sent me to Maggot Baits, fuck, they even made it sound that it would be super easy cause I would be a witch in that world and have a lot of cool and powerful magic powers and all that shit, have lots of amazing futa sex, like I was already thinking of developing some cool stuff with tentacles and…."

I raise a hand, cutting her off. "To the point."

She winces, her wings drooping. "Right, sorry. I just... I got royally screwed by my patron." A bitter smile twists her lips. "So, picture this: I wake up inside a bronze bull. You know what that means, right?"

I give her a slow nod, recalling the ancient execution method.

"That's how I started as Wilma. Straight into her bad ending." Her eyes widen suddenly. "Oh! I'm Wilma, by the way." She extends a hand, which I pointedly ignore. She awkwardly lowers it, clearing her throat.

"Anyway. The bad ending where she's boiled alive in a bronze bull." She pauses, a violent shudder running through her frame. Her eyes lose focus, lost in the memory. "If it wasn't for my template stacking, I would've died. Right. Fucking.There."

I grimace, the gruesome image flashing through my mind. "Must have been... harsh."

"You have no fucking idea," Wilma mumbles, rubbing her temples and staring at the floor. "I should've bought stress defense or something. Damn it all, I still have nightmares. That world is so fucked up, man… like getting brutally gang-raped is probably the best thing that can happen to you. You fucking wish you only get raped because otherwise they will literary eat you alive or cut you open, or whatever cursed tag you can come up with… like that edgy comic series about people with crosses…Crossed! Yeah Crossed."

"So you escaped," I state flatly.

"Of fucking course I escaped!" Wilma explodes, slamming her hands on the table as she stands. Her wings buzz angrily on her head. "Why would I stay a goddamn minute there?! Thank god I bought this stupid orb!"

She yanks out a green orb, slamming it onto the table with enough force to make me wonder if it'll shatter. "Originally, I planned to use this garbage to meet other contractors or, you know, for fun." Her voice drops as she slumps back into her chair, looking utterly defeated. "Not become my one and only sanctuary. If I can even call it that."

I eye her critically. Some sanctuary this has turned out to be, given her current state.

"That explains how you got here," I say, "but not the other mess you're in."

She lifts her gaze, sighing as she crosses her arms. "Well, the Fae are clearly not happy that I've exploited a loophole to escape my fucked-up world. But they can't touch me because, technically, I didn't break any rules. The company's main rules, at least."

Suddenly, she slaps her forehead lightly, a faint smile appearing. "Oh right! If you break a company rule, the higher-ups send a hunter after you. So don't try it. Those motherfuckers are absolute beasts and will make an example out of you. There's like an entire floor dedicated to watching these monsters do their work and punish rule-breakers."

"Noted," I reply, my interest piqued despite myself. I hadn't noticed that floor before. Perhaps a new place to visit, to understand the full extent of the power structure here.

"Since I didn't break any rules," Wilma continues, her expression strained, "they went for the next best thing to force me out. They've restricted my access to pretty much everything. Can't order food, use facilities, ask staff for help. Hell, I can't even buy shit - not that I have the credits, but you know, it's the principle."

"So you're homeless and broke," I state flatly.

She winces. "Technically? I'd say stranded is more accurate. Yeah, stranded. Moving up and down, scrounging for food and ways to kill time."

"And I was the lucky one, wasn't I?" I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Yep," she nods, her gratitude seeming genuine despite my tone. "Thanks again for this. Really."

"Now what?" I ask, wondering if she actually has a plan to get out of this mess.

She grimaces, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't really know. Keep wandering, I guess. Maybe 100% those crappy mobile games on my phone. Anything's preferable to going back to my... that world."

She hugs herself, looking small and pathetic. Then her stomach growls loudly, and she glances at me with hopeful eyes. "Any chance you could bring me more food? Please?"

I roll my eyes, standing up. Against my better judgment, I head back to the self-service kiosk. I re-ordered the Big Mac combo, plus a Happy Meal. It's fucked up, but I guess it is rather fitting.

My new order is quickly served and I pick up the order before setting the tray down on our table, and Wilma eagerly takes it.

"Thanks," she says, opening the box and starting to eat. This time, she's actually using some semblance of manners.

I watch her for a moment, mulling over her situation. "Haven't you tried negotiating for a reprieve? Or at least a restructuring? Maybe a change of worlds?" I ask the question, born more from curiosity than concern.

She pauses mid-bite, swallowing before answering. "Literally can't. It's in the Terms of Service. Unless another patron takes interest and buys out my contract, I'm the fae's bitch for eternity." She stuffs her mouth with fries, as if trying to fill the silence.

I look up at the ceiling, reflecting on my own circumstances. I must have been incredibly fortunate to avoid this mess. Truck-kun was supposed to be my patron, but that meteor... it was a stroke of luck that helped me sidestep this entire fucked-up system.

"Thanks for the food," Wilma says quietly, interrupting my thoughts. "And for listening. It's... been a long while since anyone did that."

My gaze returns to her. She looks utterly defeated as she takes another bite of her burger. Part of me wonders if this is all an act, some elaborate ploy to get something more from me. But the weariness in her eyes seems genuine enough.

I find myself at a crossroads. On one hand, her situation is not my problem. I have my own goals, my own mission and responsibilities to even bother. On the other hand, her plight resonates with something deep inside me. How many faunus have I seen trapped in similarly hopeless situations, exploited by a system they didn't fully understand?

No… I helped her already. This is enough kindness.

"I'm leaving," I announce, rising from the table and adjusting my jacket. "Got a lot of work to do back in my world."

However, my announcement causes Wilma's eyes to widen in panic. "Wait!" she blurts out, nearly choking on her food.

I pause, suppressing a sigh. "What is it now?"

She fidgets, her small wings buzzing again. "Your number... could I have it? It's just... it gets so damn lonely here. Someone to talk to would help a lot."

"No." The word comes out harsher than I intended.

Her face falls, shoulders slumping as if I'd physically struck her. For a moment, she looks so utterly defeated that I feel an unwelcome pang of... something. Pity? As if I am abandoning a puppy on the streets.

"Look, I can't promise anything, but... I might drop by here again. Might."

And there is nothing guaranteed that she will be even alive by the time I come back.

Her head snaps up, a glimmer of hope in those unnaturally green, glowing eyes. "Really? You mean it?"

I nod curtly, already regretting my words. She beams, turning her attention to the Happy Meal box and pulling out a small, furry toy.

Shaking my head, I summon my green orb and activate it. The world shifts around me, and suddenly I'm standing in my backyard, the familiar two-story house looming before me.

I click my tongue, eyeing the building's oriental design with distaste. It needs to go. The oriental design doesn't suit me, and I need to buy an expansion to access new modules like the warehouse district. That'll be extremely useful as an unlimited source of raw and refined materials. I haven't forgotten about my to-do list after all.

But that's for the future. First I need to return to Kuo Kuana and resume my work, which is why I make my way towards the entrance. But I stop mid step and make a complete turn, heading straight to my house and entering the kitchen where I grab a couple of fresh ingredients and spices. I made a promise to myself to give her Kali some of this, after all.

I send the selection of ingredients into my pocket space, and I cannot help but wonder what she will come up with these fresh ingredients.

Only then do I leave the kitchen and exit my house before heading straight to the entrance, where the red vortex opens and I jump through it.

The transition is smooth and I am already back in my office, just like I left it and glanced at the stack of papers on my desk, finished paperwork and then at the clock, which indicates that I'm within my set timeframe.

But my thoughts are interrupted when I receive a message notification.

And it's from Kawakaze

"Flying Enemy sighted, permission to engage."

The attached image shows a massive Nevermore, its wingspan blotting out the sky. My eyes narrow as I assess its trajectory - not an immediate threat to Menagerie, but a perfect opportunity nonetheless.

My lips curl into a small, satisfied smirk. More target practice for her, then.

"Permission granted." I write back and dismiss the chat.

With that done, I should be free to head home and surprise Kali. I make a mental note to call Ilia and have her come over later as well.

As I stride towards the door, another message arrives. This time, it's from Pod. My brow furrows as I read his message because it's not about Nines, but the Mistral front.

With Sienna still... indisposed, Pod's taken on some of her tasks, prioritizing as needed. The Mistral situation always takes precedence. The more I read, the deeper my frown grows because this needs to be discussed face-to-face.

"My office. Now." I type swiftly, then return to my desk, settling into a comfortable position as I think this will be a long talk.

Moments later, Pod glides through the open window, his metallic voice breaking the silence. "UNIT POD REPORTING AS REQUESTED."

I nod, gesturing to him to fly closer, which he does. "The Mistral front. Report."

"AFFIRMATIVE." A holographic map flickers to life on my desk. "LIEUTENANTS ALBAIN HAVE REPORTED THE DISCOVERY AND MOBILIZATION OF PROMETHEUS GROUP FORCES IN A NEARBY VILLAGE." An image appears, showing a soldier in an unfamiliar black uniform with a full-face helmet and red markings.

"Prometheus Group," I mutter, my frown deepening. Cinder's PMCs. Their sudden movement is definitely something to be concerned about. But then, what's their game? Are they acting independently or on contract?

I only know that this group operates in both Atlas and Mistral.

I lean forward, keeping my hard expression. "What are the odds they're preparing an offensive against our base?"

"PROBABILITY ANALYSIS: LOW. DEPLOYED TROOPS LACK HEAVY EQUIPMENT AND NUMBERS REQUIRED FOR LARGE-SCALE OPERATIONS. OBSERVED CONVOY PRIMARILY CONSISTS OF BASIC TRANSPORT UNITS."

My eyebrow raises slightly. "Go on."

"LIEUTENANT ALBAIN HYPOTHESIZES THIS IS A RESPONSE TO ATYPICAL GRIMM ACTIVITY IN THE AREA." The holographic display shifts, showing images of an unusually large Grimm congregation.

"Atypical how?" I tap my fingers on the desk rhythmically. "Break in attack patterns? Alpha sightings? New species?" I pause. "A Behemoth?"

"INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR DEFINITIVE CONCLUSION," Pod responds.

I lean back, stroking my chin thoughtfully. Mercenaries are always a wild card, and the Albain brothers are right to be wary. Even if the village is far from our base, this sudden deployment warrants attention.

Perhaps they're not laying groundwork to launch offensive operations against us, but that doesn't mean they're not gathering intel among other things. I'm certain one of the Mistral families is behind this - likely retaliation for our strikes on their ports and vessels. Which caused the population to demand action... it's an expected move lest they want the very same people to get unruly.

It's fortunate that Nines had set up a portal in the base. I can be on site in an instant if things go south. But that's merely a band-aid solution to that problem.

Long-term, sending troops isn't viable. We've only got green recruits, and throwing them into this would be a waste of life because that's what you can expect from recruits thrown into the battlefield. More importantly, it could alert Cinder's forces, potentially sparking a conflict I'm not ready for... yet.

The shipgirls could provide artillery support if push comes to shove. It's one of the main reasons I brought them on board. But deploying them so soon... it's risky. It could show our hand too early.

My fingers drumming on the arm of my chair. We need a more subtle approach. Something that gives us eyes and ears on the ground without tipping our hand.

A sudden realization hits me, and I snap my fingers.

Trifa.

It is finally time to put her abilities to good use.

"Inform the brothers that I'm sending a stealth specialist to assist them. Their priority is to gather intel without compromising themselves. And Pod, relay this: all ongoing missions are to be suspended until further notice. We're going dark."

"AFFIRMATIVE. ORDERS WILL BE RELAYED WITH UTMOST EFFICIENCY,"

As the holographic display fades, a moment of silence fills the room and my thoughts drift to another matter.

"How's Nines?"

"UNIT 9S CURRENTLY HAS NO NEW INFORMATION TO REPORT. QUERY: WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO REQUEST AN UNSCHEDULED STATUS UPDATE?"

I shake my head. "No need. She'll report when there's something worth knowing." With a dismissive wave, I add, "We're done here. Return to your duties."

"ACKNOWLEDGED, COMMANDER TAURUS. RESUMING PREVIOUS TASKS." With that, Pod glides out through the window, leaving me alone in my office.

Cinder Fall, huh….

It seems my plans for Mistral might have been moved forward.

-Bonus scene: Winter-

Winter frowned at the small but loud vacuum bot crossing her path. Why hadn't they upgraded to the newest model instead of using this older version? It wasn't even doing a proper job; she could still see dust gathering in the corners.

Checking the time on her wrist, Winter nudged the small robot aside with her boot. She couldn't afford to be late, not even by a minute.

After striding down the hallway, she finally reached the door to the General's office. Winter paused, adjusting her uniform meticulously before knocking three times.

"Enter," came the response from within.

She grasped the knob, twisted it, and pushed the door open, stepping inside with practiced efficiency.

General Ironwood was behind his desk, analyzing videos projected on the numerous screens surrounding him. As Winter entered, he closed them all and looked up, acknowledging her with a nod.

"General," she said crisply, closing the door behind her before standing at attention. "Specialist Winter reporting for duty."

"At ease, Specialist," General Ironwood replied, raising his hand slightly.

Only then did Winter relax her stance, but just barely.

"You may proceed, Specialist," James Ironwood said, his voice firm.

Winter nodded, her posture remaining rigid. "The Hitsui family has rejected your terms, sir. To quote their exact words: 'We will kill your men if we find them snooping in our land.' They then proceeded to execute the prisoners we were attempting to rescue and burnt the bodies."

The General's brow furrowed, a grunt escaping his lips. "That's... unfortunate. Have the families of the fallen been notified of this tragic loss?"

"Yes, sir. It's been taken care of," Winter replied, her voice steady despite the grim news.

Ironwood's stoic expression didn't falter as he pressed a button on his desk. A holographic screen projected in front of him, revealing a large plantation. Winter recognized it immediately as one of the Hitsui family's properties.

"Did they happen to mention anything else?" Ironwood inquired, his eyes scanning the image.

Winter shook her head. "Nothing explicit, sir. However, they implied the existence of another business partner during the commotion of the fight."

"Hmm." Ironwood stroked his beard thoughtfully. "A business partner. That doesn't narrow the possibilities much, but it's certainly a start, unless..." He pressed another button, causing multiple profiles to appear on the screen. Winter recognized several of the individuals displayed, some were in the military as well.

"I see…" Ironwood murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The holographic screen disappeared as the General slid a small chip across the desk towards her.

"Forward this information to Councilor Sleet," he ordered. "I'm certain his party will put these findings to good use."

Winter nodded, carefully picking up the chip and securing it in her pocket. She could already envision the next scandal being broadcast across the mega city.

"What else do you have to report, Specialist? Any new discoveries from your investigations?" General Ironwood asked with an expectant tone.

Winter's posture stiffened imperceptibly. She retrieved her scroll with a fluid motion; her gloved fingers dancing across the screen as she accessed the classified files. "Permission to approach, sir?"

At Ironwood's nod, she placed the device on his desk. The General leaned forward, his cybernetic hand grasping the scroll, eyes narrowing as he absorbed the information.

"We've identified a potential new Behemoth species in Mistral," she began. "Initial analysis suggests it's distinct from the Sanus and Solitas variant. And there are no similarities with the known species found in Anima. "

The man's jaw tightened. "Another one?"

His fingers flew across his keyboard, summoning a barrage of holographic displays. Footprints, seismic readings, and grainy images of colossal, shadowy forms flickered before them. Winter's eyes darted from screen to screen, cataloging the differences.

"This would make it the fifteenth confirmed Behemoth variant," Ironwood muttered, more to himself than to her. "We're already at our limit containing the Solitas specimens."

Her blue eyes locked onto a screen with a Frostfang, a behemoth with giant tusks and feline traits that has been causing a lot of problems to the army lately.

"There's more, sir," Winter interjected, her usual composure wavering slightly. She manipulated the scroll's display, zooming in on a peculiar detail. "We discovered an unknown substance in the tracks. Highly volatile."

That got the man's attention. "Volatile? Explain."

"It was an... unfortunate accident, sir," Winter admitted, a flicker of emotion crossing her face. "During sample collection, the substance detonated. Several team members were caught in the blast radius."

The older man sighed. "Casualties?"

"Negative, sir," Winter quickly assured him. "The explosion failed to penetrate the first layer of the protective gear. But the implications..."

"Are staggering," Ironwood finished, sinking back into his chair. He rubbed his temple, the gears in his mind almost visibly turning. After a moment of tense silence, he looked up, decision made. "We need our best on this. Summon Specialist Ebi and Dr. Polendina to my office immediately."

"Yes, General," Winter responded, already reaching for her comm unit.

"And call Penny as well."

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