The steel door swings wide and Dallas Fontaine steps into a room of hot tubes, wire bundles, and sweating metal. The wall monitor ticks through the district lockdown sequence, one ugly step closer to sealing the whole district shut.

Bishop stays at the console, back rigid, one hand hovering over a lever by the broadcast switch. The red pulse in the room swells against the walls like a heartbeat.

The figure at the threshold lunges toward Dallas, trying to slam the door back into place. The corridor behind Dallas pinches tighter, steel groaning on steel.

Dallas has the room, the console, and Bishop in his sights. The last clean chance to break the lockdown is right here, before the monitor reaches the final line.

Dallas fires once. The shot takes Bishop at the base of the skull, snapping him forward over the console as the red pulse on the monitor flickers and stutters.

Bishop crumples against the switches, his hand dragging the lever hard enough to jolt the machine. The lockdown readout freezes for a beat, then starts to sputter.

The Figure recoils at the threshold, half in the doorway and half in the narrowing corridor, staring at Bishop's body and the dying screen.

The console shrieks with a mechanical click from somewhere below the floor, and a service light flips from red to amber.

Bishop lies still across the controls, the stamped service plate on his chest catching the monitor glow. Dallas has the room, but the lever is still within reach of Bishop's fallen hand.