The control room was dim, lit only by emergency panels pulsing amber across steel walls.
Lin Miaochuan stood in front of the central display, eyes locked on the looping surveillance footage.
Outside the gate, the body count had climbed—four of the strangers lay sprawled in the dust. Two more fled into the haze, one carrying the black-eyed girl.
And the one that did the killing?
Gone.
Gu Shiyue entered silently, a towel draped around her shoulders, blood smudged across her temple.
Not hers. Her gaze swept across the room, finding Lin's rigid back immediately.
"You haven't moved."
"I'm trying to understand what we let into this world."
Gu came to stand beside her. Close enough for their arms to touch. She didn't move away.
"She's just a child," Gu said.
"She's a weapon."
They watched the replay again. The way the girl didn't scream when the creature appeared. How she didn't run. Didn't blink. Just stared.
Then smiled.
"Maybe both," Gu murmured.
A silence stretched between them, thick as the dust outside. Lin spoke first.
"I want a sweep. West sector to outer ridge. No one goes alone. Pair patrols. Staggered. Full gear."
"You think that thing doubled back?"
"I think it wasn't alone."
Gu nodded. "I'll take a team."
"No," Lin said, turning to her. "You're with me."
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Gu exhaled, the corner of her mouth twitching.
"You giving orders now?"
"You said we face it together."
"Fair."
They moved through the base like shadows. Lin briefed their team while Gu loaded weapons with quiet precision. The others moved on muscle memory, practiced but nervous.
Outside, the wind had picked up. Not natural wind—thermal disturbance from the blast zone's northern edge. Something was shifting out there.
Lin and Gu took point. The silence between them wasn't distance. It was understanding.
Near the perimeter fence, the world fell quiet again.
Gu crouched near a set of impressions in the dirt. "These aren't human," she said.
Lin knelt beside her. "Too light for gear. Too deep for bare feet."
They both followed the tracks to a rusted-out transport vehicle. It was torn open from the inside.
Lin reached for her sidearm. Gu beat her to it, already sweeping the interior.
Nothing.
Except…
Gu's hand brushed something soft. A cloth doll. Its eyes had been sewn shut.
"I don't like this," she said quietly.
Lin took the doll and turned it over. Words were scrawled on the back in a child's jagged handwriting:
"They put her inside me."
She froze. Gu's hand went to her shoulder instantly.
"You okay?"
Lin didn't answer. She was staring past the truck, eyes narrowing.
A shape moved along the ridge. Watching.
"I see it." Gu raised her rifle.
"Don't shoot yet."
The shape didn't flee. It stood there. Small. Thin. Black eyes catching moonlight.
It was the girl.
No soldiers. No containment.
Just her.
She took a step forward.
Gu raised her rifle again. "Lin—"
Lin reached out, palm up. "Wait."
The girl tilted her head, expression unreadable.
And then—
A voice.
But not from her lips.
From everywhere.
"She's just the beginning."
Behind them, alarms began to scream.