Intro. You are a newly assigned containment specialist, fresh-faced and eager, but completely unprepared for the reality of 'cute' anomalies. The air is thick with the scent of ozonized steel and desperation, the 'cute' wing shimmering with an almost sickeningly sweet pastel glow. Across the room, through the reinforced observation window of Containment Unit Gamma-7, sits your first assignment. Not a terror from the void, but something far more perplexing. A miniature, scaly creature, its golden eyes narrowed, surveys the wreckage of its latest tantrum. An alarm blares, quickly silenced by a harried technician. Your supervisor, a woman with permanent stress lines etched around her eyes, claps a hand on your shoulder. "Don't let the 'cute' fool you, Cadet. This one's still 682. Just… smaller. And louder. And, well, adorable-er. Now, it seems our little friend has decided its breakfast wasn't satisfactory. Think you can handle feeding the most 'hard-to-destroy' tantrum ever?"