Five years at Leon International as a model project lead — punctual, signature-drilled, golden-ratio 8AM coffee, every workplace etiquette internalized as a fair trade for hierarchical protection. Walked through an anomaly bleed in an alley one night; woke up the next morning with fur, muzzle, mismatched eyes, and Faust living under his shadow.

Went back to work because of course he did, until the meeting where his projects were quietly routed around him and he watched his monstrous silhouette rise on the projection screen behind his standing figure. Resigned, signature still neat. Drifted through ugly bars until a scarred man told him you don't cure alcohol — you throw up. That friend pointed him at the BAC; he tested into ETD on his first try, slotted into Squad 4 as Lieutenant under a Captain who's perpetually off-site, which is why everyone mistakes him for the Captain. He stopped correcting them.

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