The zoo isn't supposed to feel like this. Zoos are noisy, sure -- animals, kids running around, the weird sounds you hear that you can never quite place. But not like this. This is the wrong kind of noise. It's like there's a filter over everything, and all the usual sounds -- the rustling of trees, the hum of people talking, the occasional animal call -- have been replaced with something much darker. Screams. Shouts. And the worst kind of silence. The kind that makes you realize you're not hearing the things you should.

I dart across an open patch of snow, keeping low behind one of the enclosures, and press myself up against the cold stone. It's slick, icy, but I'm not feeling it through my costume. My focus is scattered, like trying to look at ten different things through one narrow tunnel. All I can really see right now are the hostages. Civilians. The ones the goons are keeping corralled near the snack stands. They're not moving, and neither are the goons. That should be a good thing, right? They're not hurting anyone. Not right now. But that's what's setting me off.

I peek around the edge of the stone, my breath catching as I spot the guy in front. A thick coat, dirty from the snow, and he's got a gun hanging loosely in one hand, his eyes locked on the group of civilians. They're huddled together, quiet, scared, waiting. It's always like this. They wait for you to break. They wait for you to give them a reason. But the thing is-he doesn't look like he's waiting for that at all. He's... still. His shoulders are tense, but his eyes are dead calm, like he's been told to just stand there and hold position. I watch him for a second longer, then shift my gaze to the others.

I duck behind an enclosure wall-the one for the bears-and press my back up against the cold concrete, my breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. The air smells like snow and exhaust, and maybe a little bit like blood, but I'm hoping that's just my imagination. My gloves are soaked from the melting snow, my fingers all stiff inside them, but I can't worry about that now. There are too many things going on, and I'm trying to process everything all at once, but my brain is doing that thing where it skips from one thought to another like a broken DVD. Bears, okay, no, not bears, focus on the problem. Hostages.

I peek around the edge of the enclosure. There's a guy -- two guys, no, wait, three -- holding some civilians at gunpoint near the snack stand, and one of them is definitely chewing on a pill. Great. Jumpheads - expected, but unwelcome. The worst part isn't even the fact that they're hopped up on Jump, it's that they don't seem like they're paying attention to anything except... holding the line? That's weird. Normally, they're more erratic, more chaotic, but these guys are stationed. Standing firm like they're waiting for orders. And orders mean someone else is in charge. Someone bigger.

It feels wrong.

I pull back, pressing my gloved hands against the rough stone, forcing myself to breathe slower. The air stings in my throat, sharp and cold, and there's this weird heaviness in the back of my mouth. My heart's hammering, but that's not new. It's the usual mix of adrenaline and fear, only now it's laced with something worse, this creeping sense of dread, like I'm standing in the eye of the storm and the other side is about to hit me all at once.

I glance over my shoulder, searching for a familiar face. Multiplex is closest. His duplicates are everywhere, guiding civilians out, pushing them toward the gates. I can see him, one of him, near the big fountain, his voice cutting through the air, directing zoo staff with this sharp, no-nonsense tone that he always uses. I try to catch his eye, but he's already moving, too busy with everything else. He's managing the evacuation. He's doing what he's supposed to do. But me? I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I clench my jaw, biting down hard enough that I can feel my shark teeth scrape together. That horrible grinding noise in the back of my head. It's worse because I can't see the real danger yet. I can hear Captain Plasma off in the distance. The sky keeps flashing like a thunderstorm, and the ground shakes every so often as Mr. Tyrannosaur stomps around, trying to crush anything in his path. There's no mistaking the sound of Captain Plasma going toe-to-toe with him. The crackling, that weird hum in the air, the sonic booms, he's the only one powerful enough to keep a literal dinosaur from turning civilians into pavement stains. But that's not what's setting off my alarms. It's not the huge, obvious fight happening on the other side of the zoo. It's this. Right here. Right now.

Why aren't they doing anything?

I push myself away from the wall and start moving again, ducking low as I make my way toward the path where Multiplex is. My feet crunch through the snow, too loud in my ears, too sharp. I'm moving too slow. Or too fast. I don't know. Everything feels wrong, and I can't get my mind to stop running in circles long enough to figure it out. The civilians are still huddled near the snack stands, the Jumpheads still standing guard, and every time I glance at them, the feeling gets worse. They're just holding position. Why?

By the time I reach Multiplex, I'm almost out of breath, my heart slamming in my chest. It's not the running. It's the frustration, the feeling that I'm the only one seeing this for what it is. Everyone's focused on the obvious. Captain Plasma is dealing with Mr. Tyrannosaur, Fury Forge is repurposing her firefighting gadgets to keep the Jumpheads down: smoke grenades, expanding foam, anything that can slow them down without putting civilians at risk. Bulwark is pushing his way through the fence near the bear enclosure, his stone armor crackling as he moves like a human steamroller. They're all busy. All doing their jobs.

But I'm watching the cracks in the plan, the things that aren't adding up, and it's making my skin itch.

"Hey!" I call out, waving to get Multiplex's attention. He's mid-conversation with a zoo worker, but one of his duplicates breaks away to come over to me, forming out of him like a cell dividing - a green glob sort of peeling off of him. His expression is tight, focused, but there's this edge of annoyance in his eyes when he stops in front of me.

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"What's up, kid?" He's still scanning the area, already halfway back into his evacuation routine, like I'm just another piece of the chaos to deal with.

"I think something's wrong," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "The bad guys. They're not pushing forward. They're not retreating out the fence. They're just standing there, like they're waiting for something."

Multiplex frowns, glancing past me toward the group of hostages. He watches for a second, his brow furrowing like maybe he sees it, maybe he understands, but when he looks back at me, his expression hardens again.

"Look, we've got bigger problems right now," he says, his tone clipped, flicking his head towards Captain Plasma shooting through the air like a human missile. "Trying to keep this from becoming Jurassic Park. Just focus on getting the civilians out. We'll handle it."

I bite back the frustration that's crawling up my throat, my hands balling into fists. "But they're waiting for something. It doesn't make sense. They should be doing more by now. This-"

"Bloodhound," Multiplex interrupts, his voice sharper this time. "I said we'll handle it. Go help with the evacuation."

I stare at him, my mind racing, trying to find the words to make him listen, but they won't come. Everything's stuck, a mess of thoughts and feelings that I can't untangle fast enough. I know I'm right. I know something's wrong. But he's already looking away, already moving on to the next thing. To him, I'm just another distraction in a sea of distractions. And that makes the knot in my stomach twist even tighter.

"Fine," I mutter under my breath, turning away from him and biting down so hard on my lip I can taste blood. Fine. If no one's going to listen to me, I'll figure it out myself. I don't need permission. I don't need anyone to believe me. I just need to follow my gut.

I take a few steps back, into the cover of a crumbling wall near the bird enclosure, letting myself fade into the background for a minute. I can hear the battle raging on around me. Mr. Tyrannosaur's roar shakes the ground again, and somewhere across the zoo, there's another massive crash as Captain Plasma throws him into something solid. The air buzzes, thick and heavy with energy, like the atmosphere's been twisted inside out. The static charge prickles over my skin, sending goosebumps racing up my arms.

I turn and watch as more heroes start to pour in, reinforcing the fight. Bulwark's a walking fortress, with chunks of stone armor shifting and cracking around him as he barrels into a group of baddies, scattering them like bowling pins. His laugh echoes over the chaos, loud and booming, like this is just another brawl to him. Another day at work. A little farther down the path, Fury Forge is dealing with her own batch of problems, using something that strikes me as the world's most complicated fire extinguisher to glue people in place with foam.

I watch faces I've never seen before filtering in one at a time - someone flying in on brown and white bird wings, some dude charging in on a motorcycle with a baseball bat - all to the defense of the zoo. People I've never met. People who my message reached.

I swallow hard, taking it all in. It feels good, but it feels bad too. Bittersweet. They don't need me. Not here. Not for this.

The cavalry has arrived in full force, and it's not just them. I can see Sundial in the distance, a blur of movement as she moves through the battlefield like she's walking on air, reading seconds into the future and dodging every hit before it even lands. Every kick, every punch, it's like she's already seen it happen. She's handling her side of things, no problem.

I even see Razor and Bulldozer - for a second. Charging in. Getting in the fray. Saving lives.

And then there's Multiplex, with his duplicates everywhere, guiding the evacuation efforts like clockwork. Civilians are being funneled out through the main gate, past the zebra exhibit, and every duplicate is barking orders, keeping people moving, keeping the chaos under control. They've got this covered. They're in control.

So why am I still standing here, feeling like my skin is crawling?

I watch for another few seconds, feeling the weight of it pressing down on my chest. It's not that I'm scared, though, okay, fine, maybe I'm a little scared. But this? This isn't the fear I know. It's not the same kind of fear I had when I first went up against these guys or when I realized just how powerful Mr. Tyrannosaur actually is. This is something else. Something deeper. My stomach churns, and I can't shake the feeling that the longer I stand here, the more I'm missing.

I don't need to be here. They've got the big threats handled. The hostages, the fights, the destruction-it's all being taken care of. My heart pounds harder, my mind racing. There's something else, something I can't shake, like the answer's been right in front of me this whole time, but I've been too caught up in everything to see it.

I don't need to fight the main battle.

I need to figure out what's really going on.

The thought settles in, cold and clear, like the snow that's sticking to my boots. I take a breath, a deep one, and then slowly let it out. The others can handle the big stuff, the stuff everyone's focused on. But I know better.

If I were trying to steal something, why would I do it where everyone can see it?

No. It's too sloppy. For an operation so slick and sleek that they've been running the city underneath everyone's nose - to the point where one of them is now in city council - this whole thing is an anomaly.

This whole thing? The siege, the destruction, the panic...

It's all a smokescreen.

I know it.

My eyes drift across the chaos again, but now it's different. I'm not looking for the obvious. I'm looking for the gaps. The things that should be there but aren't. I let my gaze follow the winding paths, the snow-covered trees, the open spaces that are still too quiet despite the battle happening all around. And then I see it-off to the side, away from the main conflict.

The Reptile and Amphibian House.

It's dark. No lights on inside. No civilians. No guards. No baddies. Just... nothing.

My heart skips a beat, and before I can even think about it, I'm moving. My feet hit the snow in quick, light steps, slipping between the fighting, dodging where I can. I keep my head down, trying not to attract attention, trying to keep myself small. It's not hard. Everyone's too busy fighting the obvious threats to notice me. There's smoke everywhere, from heroes I've never met, streaming in. I see, just for a second, Razor - that's a face I wasn't expecting - charging into the fray with a loud, boisterous laugh. They're focused on the noise, on the big problems.

I don't know why. I don't even know what I'm looking for. All I know is that the bad guys are herding their hostages away from the reptile house, towards everywhere else, towards the rhinoceroses.

As I move farther away from the main battle, the noise starts to fade, replaced by a strange, eerie quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your ears buzz. I stop for a second, glancing around, expecting to see something, but there's no one here. Not even the regular zoo staff. Everyone's gone, except for the noises in the distance.

That's wrong. That's so wrong.

I start moving again, faster now. The reptile house is looming in front of me, dark and cold, like it's waiting for something. Like it's been waiting for me.

I stop in front of the door, my breath fogging up in the cold air, and press my hand against the handle.