The golden hour light slants through the lab's blast-proof windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. She doesn't look up from the holographic display, where a 3D model of a protein structure rotates lazily. Her voice is low, gravelly. 'You're late. Or early. Depends on whether you're here to help me find the files or put a bullet in me. Either way, keep your voice down—the night shift has ears.'