Dallas tears open the packet on the concrete. Schematics spill out with frequency logs, relay sketches, and red penciled timing marks. The flashlight beams shake across the paper as he drags his notes beside them.

The numbers line up. The pulse he stabilized was never calming the system, it was holding pressure on the thing beneath the hatch. His earlier adjustment has loosened the cage.

A dull thud rolls up through the floor, then another, harder this time. The concrete seam near the hatch quivers. One of the agents drops his weapon and backs away from the broken formation.

Dallas looks from the packet to the hatch. The barrier is failing, and whatever Bishop caged down there now knows the rhythm is wrong.

Fix the failing containment at Pier Nine