Today's different. I've been telling myself that for hours now. It's not just the snow, or the fact that I'm here all day instead of after school - thank the snow day. It's something else, something I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's the way the air feels heavier, thicker, like the zoo itself is holding its breath. Maybe it's the fact that there are more people here today, even though the animals aren't exactly putting on a show. Or maybe it's just the gnawing feeling in my gut that's been building all week, the one that says this is it, this is the day.

I've been walking the same paths, doing my usual rounds, but my eyes are darting around more than usual. The flamingos aren't doing anything particularly interesting. They're huddled together, their beaks tucked into their feathers, like they've given up on pretending they're tropical birds and have fully embraced their inner snowbirds. The bears are out, of course. They're always out. But even they seem slower today, like they're conserving energy for something. Or maybe that's just my imagination. Everything feels like a sign today.

I catch sight of Mack near the rhino enclosure, talking to one of the newer keepers. They're standing too close together, and I can't hear what they're saying, but there's tension in the way Mack's shoulders are hunched. He glances around, his eyes scanning the zoo like he's expecting something, too. I walk over, pulling my scarf tighter against the cold, and when he spots me, his face softens just a little.

"Kid," he says, nodding at me as I approach. "You look like you're about to fight someone."

"I've got that bad feeling again," I say, my voice low. "Today's different, Mack. I don't know why, but it is."

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "You've been saying that for a week."

"Yeah, well, I'm saying it again. There's more people here than usual. A lot more adults. They're all bundled up, too, and not just because it's cold. Look at them." I nod toward a group near the Reptile House. "They're not looking at the animals. They're not tourists. They're… something else."

Mack follows my gaze, frowning. "You think they're with those guys you were talking about before?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. I'm not saying it's a definite, but it's weird, right? And those construction guys--they're still here, even though it's been snowing for two days straight. Who works in weather like this? They haven't stacked a single brick. Who's paying their overtime?"

Mack doesn't answer right away, other than a mild chuckle at my overtime comment. He looks down at his phone, then back at me, his expression unreadable. "I've been trying to keep an eye on things," he says finally. "I've told the other keepers to stay alert, just in case. But I can't exactly sound the alarm without, you know, an actual alarm to sound."

"I know," I mutter, glancing around again. "But I'm telling you, Mack, something's up today. It's too… quiet."

And it is. The whole zoo feels like it's holding its breath. Even the animals seem off. The flamingos haven't moved from their huddle. The bears are pacing, but slower than usual. And I haven't seen the rhinos in over an hour. Not that I'm complaining about that last one--those things freak me out--but still. Something's not right.

"I'll spread the word," Mack says, pulling out his phone again. "But you've got to promise me you won't do anything stupid, alright? If something does happen, let the professionals handle it."

I raise an eyebrow. "You calling me an amateur?"

He doesn't laugh, which makes me feel like I've been kicked in the stomach. Instead, he gives me that look, the one that says you're a kid, stop trying to be a hero. I hate that look. But before I can say anything else, he's already texting someone, probably one of the other keepers. "Just stay safe, okay? I've got a bad feeling, too."

That's the thing about bad feelings. When you've had them as often as I have, they stop being vague, abstract things. They start becoming almost real, like a physical weight in your chest. You can't shake them, no matter how much you tell yourself you're just being paranoid. And today? Today, it feels like there's a brick sitting on my ribs. I've been on edge for days, but this is different. Today is different.

I keep walking, my eyes scanning the crowd. The construction guys are still at their usual spot, stacking bricks like they're building the world's most boring snowman. There are more of them than usual today, too. I count twelve, maybe thirteen. Normally there's about ten. That alone is enough to set off alarm bells in my head. I pull my phone out, my thumb hovering over the screen, debating whether to text Jordan or call Multiplex.

The decision gets made for me.

A loud crash, like metal being torn apart, echoes through the zoo. It's so loud, it feels like the ground itself shudders beneath my feet. My head snaps toward the rhino enclosure, and my heart stops.

Standing there, towering over the fence that's now half-destroyed, is Mr. T-Rex. Full-on dinosaur mode, with a god damn dinosaur-sized blanket - a cloak? draped over his neck, tied with rope. His massive tail swipes through the air, knocking over a sign like it's made of paper. His roar--oh God, that roar--is louder than I expected. Louder than anything I've ever heard besides the first time he roared a year ago. The families nearby are screaming, running in every direction, trying to get as far away from the giant dinosaur as possible.

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My brain freezes for a second, unable to process what I'm seeing. It's not like I wasn't expecting the Kingdom to show up eventually, but there's something about actually seeing a T-Rex tearing through a fence that still manages to break whatever mental preparation I thought I had. Then, it hits me.

This isn't a heist. This is a siege.

They're not here to sneak around or pull off some clever trick. They're here to take what they want and leave nothing but destruction behind.

"Holy shit," I mutter under my breath, already moving toward the nearest cover. My heart is pounding, and my mind is racing through every possible scenario, every plan I've come up with for this exact moment. I had the vague impression that maybe Mr. T-Rex would come out to play, given the scales of the animals in question here, but not just… show up. I don't know, tow a truck or something. Not show up and start demolishing things.

I grab my phone and call Multiplex. "Hey," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "You need to get here. Now."

His voice is calm, too calm, on the other end of the line. "I'm already here."

Of course he is. I look up, and sure enough, I see two of his duplicates moving toward Mr. T-Rex, trying to corral him away from the fleeing crowds. It's not going well. One of them gets swatted aside by the dinosaur's tail, crashing into a nearby food cart, which promptly explodes into a cloud of snow and popcorn and a thin layer of green sludge.

"Stay out of sight," Multiplex says. "This is going to get ugly."

"You think?" I snap, ducking behind a bathroom building as the chaos spreads. The crowd is panicking, and the goons -- the ones who were pretending to be construction workers -- are already moving in, weapons drawn. I catch a glimpse of one of them pulling out a knife. Another gets a baseball bat out from under their clothes - no wunder they were bundled up.

"Stay safe," Multiplex says, and then the line goes dead.

I don't have time to stay safe. I duck into the bathroom, my fingers trembling as I unzip my coat and start changing into my winterized suit. The sounds of battle are already getting louder, but I can't focus on that right now. I can't think about the fact that there's a dinosaur loose in the zoo, or that people are probably getting hurt. I just have to get ready. I just have to help.

"They're going to take hostages," the pit in my stomach tells me. "As leverage, so they can escape."

The thought feels too real to ignore, like it's already happening, and I'm just now catching up. That's how these things work, right? You don't storm a zoo with a dinosaur unless you're planning on leaving with something.

I zip up the last of my winterized suit and glance out the bathroom window, heart racing. People are running in every direction, slipping in the snow, crashing into fences and walls. It's a full-blown panic, and right in the center of it all is Mr. T-Rex, a giant, roaring, prehistoric nightmare. But it's not just him. There are people in the crowd, too many people, all moving with too much purpose. The ones I saw earlier, bundled up in their thick coats and hats, are throwing off their disguises now. Knives. Bats. Batons. It's chaos.

One of the zookeepers near the lemur island stumbles as she tries to run, and two guys in black jackets make a beeline for her. My pulse quickens. Hostages. They're going to grab her. I can feel it, like a wave of nausea rolling over me. This isn't just a robbery. They're rounding people up.

I burst out of the bathroom, my boots crunching in the snow as I sprint toward her. There's no time to think, no time to plan. I see the guy closest to her -- a big guy with a shaved head -- reaching out, and I tackle him from the side, my shoulder slamming into his ribs, my helmet's ear jabbing into his side. He goes down with a grunt, and I barely have time to register the shock on his face before I'm up again, standing between him and the zookeeper.

"Get out of here!" I shout at her. She doesn't need to be told twice. She stumbles back to her feet and takes off running, her breath coming in panicked gasps. The guy on the ground groans, but before I can react, the second guy lunges at me, swinging a baton. I duck just in time, nearly feeling the wind of the swing as it passes over my head. I kick out, catching him in the shin, and he stumbles, cursing under his breath. In this knightly armor, I don't think anyone can get the impression that I'm a girl, or a child. Just that I'm a threat.

I hear a roar from behind me -- another one, not Mr. T-Rex this time -- and I turn just in time to see Multiplex, or at least one of his duplicates, grappling with another thug near the entrance to the Penguin Point. There are two of him now, one handling Mr. T-Rex, and the other trying to keep these smaller fires from spreading. But it's not enough. There are too many bad guys, more than I expected, more than anyone expected.

I swing back just in time to dodge another hit, this time from the guy I'd tackled. He's back on his feet, looking angrier than before. His baton comes down hard, aiming for my shoulder, but I sidestep and grab his wrist, twisting it as hard as I can, starting to push teeth out from my fingertips. Something that never gets old. He lets out a yelp, but before I can finish the move, I hear Mack's voice behind me.

"I've got this one!" he shouts, and then I hear a hiss, followed by the big guy dropping his baton and clutching his face. Pepper spray. Mack's got him, and he's not pulling any punches. The guy falls to his knees, trying to rub the spray out of his eyes, but Mack kicks his baton out of reach and pulls me behind him. "Told you I wasn't defenseless, kid."

"I never doubted you," I say, my heart still pounding as I scan the area. "But we need to get these people out of here. They're trying to take hostages."

"No kidding," Mack mutters, glancing around. "But there's too many of them. We're going to need more than pepper spray."

He's right. There are more goons pouring in from every direction, some coming from the Reptile House, others from the construction site. They're swarming the zoo, and it's not just about the rhino anymore. This is about control. It's about scaring people, taking them, using them as bargaining chips. And there are too many people in this zoo to protect.

I look around frantically. "I need to slow them down. I need to--"

A loud shout interrupts me, and I see a group of three thugs chasing after a mother and her kid, both slipping in the snow as they try to run. My heart leaps into my throat, and before I know it, I'm running again, my feet barely touching the ground.