The command deck hummed with dim lights, the soft buzz of machines and displays setting the background noise. Dacre stood before them, arms folded, droning on about the new operative. No one was paying attention until he finally added, almost lazily: "Oh... and one more thing. She is a woman."

Instant silence. Then Leo let out a long, sharp whistle. "Holy fuck! A woman? In the elite? Finally!" Zack burst out laughing. "No way, seriously? It's always been just us handsome bastards, and now they throw a girl in? This is a blessed day, brothers!"

Cassian didn't look up from his phone. "I can already see her on her knees... and not for discipline."

Theodore chuckled, blowing smoke into the air. "Buddy, a hundred credits says she chooses me first. Look at me—who could resist?"

Leo spread his arms wide. "A hundred? Please. Let's make it real. I give her one night before she's in my bed."

Zack slapped his thigh. "One night? Old man, you drink too much. Half an hour, tops!"

Until now, Finn had stayed silent. Then his deep, calm voice cut through the noise like a blade. "You're pathetic."

The others laughed harder. Cassian rolled his eyes. "Well, well, the ice king finally speaks."

A faint, cynical smile flickered at Finn's mouth. "Wrong. I'm curious too."

He let the silence hang before adding with dry humor: "Just curious how long it'll take before she beats the shit out of you before you can take her to bed."

The squad erupted with laughter. Finally, Dacre stepped in, voice sharper now. "Enough of this nonsense. Her ship is arriving soon. You'll be waiting in the hangar, as ordered. And remember—just because she's a woman doesn't mean she's less of a soldier."

Finn gave a slow nod. "Then we'll see what our little European guest is made of."

The massive hangar doors groaned open, flooding the deck with light. The Zeta Elite Squad stood in formation—more like a gang of wolves waiting for prey than soldiers greeting a teammate. Engines roared as a transport ship descended, landing gear screeching against steel. The ramp began to lower with a slow, deliberate grind.

All eyes turned toward the widening gap. And then—she appeared. The silence lasted only a heartbeat before the wolves showed their teeth. Leo let out a piercing whistle. "Holy fuck, she's actually hot!"

Zack barked out a laugh. "Hot? Try smoking. Damn, Europe's been holding out on us!"

Finally, Finn stepped forward. He towered over her, eyes meeting hers, piercing and unflinching. "Finn Kodack. Leader of Zeta Elite Squad."

He studied her silently before adding, voice like steel: "Around here.....we have a tradition. A test. Before you join us, you fight."

It wasn't true, but none of the others dared correct him.

The squad guided her deeper into the Ark. The halls were long and reinforced, lined with glowing crimson strips of Lilith Crystal. Finn walked just ahead, voice carrying the weight of command. "You probably think you know what it means to be elite. They all do, fresh out of the academy. But here, things work differently."

He gestured toward a sealed blast door. "Every operation begins with tactical briefings. I lead them. The rest listen, no arguments in the field. You'll get your say in planning. Once boots hit the ground, my word is law."

Finn's tone hardened. "Discipline keeps us alive. Hesitation gets people killed."

They entered a lift descending into the Ark's lower depths. "One more thing. Among elites, there are unspoken rules. Status matters. Reputation matters. Every move you make, every mistake you bleed for—people watch. You don't just carry your name now. You carry Zeta's."

The lift halted with a hiss. They entered a vast circular chamber with walls plated in alloy and laced with glowing Lilith Crystal. The squad took positions in the observation deck above as she was left alone below. Finn pressed the intercom, his voice booming through hidden speakers.

"I hope you're ready for a wild ride, princess. Show me you're worth my attention."

The chamber lights dimmed. From the far side, a massive gate rumbled open, darkness spilling out like a wound. The growl that followed was low, guttural, and inhuman. Then came the scraping of claws against metal. A Type-3 Infected emerged from the shadows—towering, grotesque, its twisted form both humanoid and beast. Muscles bulged beneath diseased flesh, crimson veins pulsing faintly under the skin. Its eyes glowed like coals, filled with hunger and hate.