The daycare sector sits just beyond that perimeter.
Reinforced, yes.
Secure, supposedly.
But I’ve just watched this creature tear through structures designed to withstand atmospheric pressure and kinetic bombardment.
Reinforced doesn’t mean anything if the system is compromised.
“Bron,” I whisper.
Where are you?
I spin, scanning the chaos again.
“Bron!” I shout.
No answer.
Just the thunder of the beast’s movement and the distant, panicked voices of contestants and staff.
I grab the nearest security officer by the shoulder as he runs past.
“Hey!” I snap. “Listen to me!”
He tries to shake me off.
“I don’t have time?—”
“You need to secure the compound,” I cut in sharply. “The daycare sector.”
He freezes.
“What?”
“The creature is heading that direction,” I say, forcing the words out clearly despite the pounding of my heart. “If it breaches the perimeter?—”
His face drains of color.
“Get every available unit there,” I continue. “Now.”
He hesitates for half a second.
Then he nods sharply.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
He taps his comm, barking orders as he runs.
Good.
Good.
I turn back toward the arena.
Find Bron.
Find Bron.
