Lab 4's security door clicked open under Sarah's keycard, the sound unnaturally loud in the CDC's sterile hallway. Marcus's enhanced tactical awareness cataloged every detail: the faint hum of negative pressure systems, the subtle scent of bleach and fear, the barely perceptible tremor in Sarah's hand as she pulled the door.
"Clear," Maya whispered from her position behind him, her SWAT training evident in every controlled movement. Bobby maintained rear security while Doc helped Sarah into her containment suit, his practiced efficiency born from countless deployments.
"Talk to me about layout," Marcus subvocalized into their newly acquired tactical comms. Fifteen minutes until Cross's deadline.
"Main lab's thirty meters deep," Sarah replied, her voice steady despite the pressure. "BSL-4 containment pods on the north wall. Morgan's been using Pod Three exclusively. Auxiliary storage and emergency shower stations on the south."
"Bobby, those ventilation shafts we discussed?"
"Mapped and marked," the young parkour expert confirmed. "Can have us in position above Pod Three in forty seconds if needed."
Marcus let his enhanced tactical processing absorb the information, building a three-dimensional map of threats and possibilities. The precognition remained quiet – useful only for immediate physical danger – but his other abilities painted a clear picture of their situation.
"Maya, you and Bobby take high ground. Doc, get the containment equipment ready but hang back with Sarah until we confirm it's clear." He checked his watch. "Cross's team will breach from the east entrance in fourteen minutes if we don't resolve this. Let's move."
They advanced in practiced formation, each step calculated. Marcus had drilled them relentlessly over the past hour, using his future knowledge and enhanced abilities to compress weeks of training into urgent preparation. It showed in their movements – not perfect, but professional.
The main lab opened before them, a cathedral of steel and glass. Empty workstations formed silent rows, their monitors casting pale blue light across polished surfaces. At the far end, Pod Three's isolation chamber glowed with harsh fluorescent clarity.
The precognition hit without warning: Glass shattering. A containment breach. Morgan's desperate lunge for the emergency protocols.
"Contact!" Marcus snapped, already moving. "Morgan's going to trigger a containment breach. Maya, high! Bobby, cut off the emergency exit!"
His team responded instantly. Maya flowed up a support column like liquid shadow, taking position in the overhead maintenance gantry. Bobby vaulted a workstation, his parkour skills putting him between Morgan and the emergency exit before she could register their presence.
"Dr. Morgan," Marcus called out, keeping his voice calm despite the urgency. "We need to talk about the samples."
Elizabeth Morgan spun from her workstation, wild-eyed but still maintaining a scientist's precision in her movements. Her lab coat bore fresh stains – not viral samples, Marcus's tactical assessment noted, but coffee and exhaustion.
"How did you—" She stopped, registering their tactical gear. "You don't understand. This research is essential. The projections—"
"Show a ninety-eight percent infection rate within eight weeks of initial outbreak," Marcus finished. "Followed by systematic collapse of major population centers. Military containment failing by week three. I know, Doctor. I've seen it."
Morgan's hand inched toward the containment pod's emergency release. "Impossible. The simulations are classified. Unless..." Her eyes widened. "You're like him. The one who showed me."
Another piece clicked into place. "Cross contacted you."
"Showed me the future. Said I could help prevent it." Her laugh held an edge of hysteria. "But his solution... I couldn't. The samples needed more testing. More time."
"Doctor," Sarah stepped forward, still in her containment suit. "Whatever Cross showed you, whatever he promised – this isn't the way. Look at your own results. The protein structures are unstable. You're working with incomplete data."
"Nine minutes," Maya reported from above. "Cross's team is staged."
Marcus made his decision. "Dr. Morgan, you have two choices. Surrender to CDC containment protocols now, let us secure these samples properly. Or wait nine minutes for a special operations team to breach that door with shoot-to-kill orders."
"They wouldn't dare. This is a CDC facility—"
"Eight minutes," Maya updated. "They're prepping breaching charges."
Morgan's composure cracked. "You don't understand. The original timeline – everyone dies. Cross said this was the only way to identify patient zero, to stop it before it starts."
"By releasing it early?" Sarah's voice held both horror and understanding. "Creating a controlled outbreak?"
"Small scale. Contained. We could develop the cure before—"
The precognition flashed again: Morgan's hand on the release, containment alarms screaming. This time Marcus was already there, his enhanced speed putting him between her and the controls.
"Doctor," he said softly. "I've seen that future too. Lived it. Died in it. But this isn't the answer. Help us do it right."
Morgan stared at him for a long moment, tears cutting trails through days of exhaustion on her face. Finally, slowly, she stepped back from the containment pod.
"How?" she whispered. "How do we stop it?"
"Together," Marcus answered, signaling Doc forward with the containment equipment. "The right way."
As his team secured the samples and began proper containment procedures, Marcus keyed his radio. "Cross? Morgan's in custody. Samples contained. Stand down."
Static crackled for three endless seconds before Cross's voice emerged. "Confirmed, Master Chief. Stand down orders acknowledged." A pause. "But this isn't over. You've bought time, nothing more."
"Sometimes time is all we need."
Marcus watched his team work, each member focused and professional. They'd passed their first real test, but Cross was right – this was just the beginning. They needed a proper base, real training facilities, and above all, time to prepare for what was coming.
The CDC lab's lights hummed overhead as Marcus began planning their next move. One crisis averted, a thousand more to come. At least now they had a team.
And maybe, just maybe, a fighting chance.