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cute women Scarlett

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My age: I am 34
What is my gender: Girl
Zodiac sign: Capricorn
Body features: I'm muscular
What I prefer to drink: Lager
What is my favourite music: Pop

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Amidst the stark blackness and sheer silence of a sealed room, a console boots to life, its green neon typeface reflecting against the heavily sanitized walls of a facility. The bold letters spill across the screen as information is displayed, one line at a time. As suddenly as the wording appeared, the story colors faded away, once more leaving the room sealed in Cat void.

There is silence. Not a soul can hear the bestial moans, cries, and anguished shrieks occurring on the floors above and below the room; those who do not yet understand their contributions to the matter at hand. They are not yet aware of the gift of modern science. Beckerman, what do you mean this project has not been greenlit by the steering committee!?

I wish to convey my fears and concerns over this project to you. You should reconsider what you are doing. In fact, I don't know how much longer I can keep participating in this project! A young brunette, her age 34, dressed in white lab attire, slammed her fist down onto the cold hard surface of a lab bench in her frustration. The room was dimly lit, no light present at all except for a small overhead light source casting a gloomy and depressing ambiance on the chemistry lab of the facility.

Seated at the lab bench was the young brunette, her body quivering and shaking with anxiety in addition to a growing realization of dread.

Next to her sat an older man, his age 67, as he scowled and shifted his age-crusted hands through his beard. His own fist slammed down on the table in response to the tension mounting between the two colleagues. Your insubordination and lack of confidence in my ideals will lead this project to its doom. This is the third time your ignorance and rash thinking have questioned my work. I have just about had it with this lack of cooperation on your part!

Beckerman leaned in closer to Rita and narrowed his eyes, his nose puffing and flaring while the grimy smell of reeking coffee spewed from his lips. His voice became gravelly and threatening. You are just like the rest of the committee, so full of ignorance and ready to shoot down any and all aspirations I have for advancing the future of humankind.

You are all fools, that is what you are! Simple, insolent fools! The old doctor thrust his hand out to Rita's lab coat, clutching her by the arm and giving a vigorous shake. If you speak a word of this to anyone, and I mean anyone, you can kiss the rest of your academic career, let alone your vocational future and aspirations as a gene therapist, goodbye!

Rita's eyes opened wide in shock, her teeth beginning to chatter and shake as fear wrapped its way around her heart.

The doctor's eyes were wild, insane, and filled with a desire for scientific glory that rivaled even the most notorious of fictional madmen. She was living in a nightmare, and she had enough.

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If you don't work with me, I have methods of, shall I say, encouragement, which should change your mind. The sample size of our project is minuscule at this point in time, and only a handful of our subjects possess the required genetic makeup to undergo the injection. I know about you and your phylogeny, you carry the genetic markers that ify you a prime candidate.

The fact that I have spared your name from the potential sample pool is pure mercy on my part.

I have no qualms in rescinding that kindness. Rita fell backward from her tall lab stool, her head hitting against the hard surface of the tiles floor of the lab room.

She scrambled to the back of the wall as the doctor got up from the bench and loomed over the young scientist. But as ethical and… generous, as I am, I'll give you a choice.

Don't make this difficult for me. You can be yet another ledger in the books of my ever-growing sample size, or you can willingly assist me in further research without further questioning and interrogation of my methods. I have others who will gladly help me. Well, what say you?

I don't have all day. Rita lowered her head to her chest and took a deep breath. She was fighting a moral conflict within her heart. As a scientist, she had an obligation to further the pathway of modern medicine and improve the world. But this, this was asinine. It was the stuff of nightmares, the stuff of science fiction, the stuff of… She rose to her knees as she held out a hand to the good doctor, ifying a handshake of cooperation. With a curt smile, he extended his hand to her own before the woman thrust her hand away, curved it upwards, and smacked the doctor on the right cheek with a forceful slap.

The redness of his irritated skin turned into a beet-red hue as anger spread across his face.

Rita screamed at the doctor. You are nothing more than a hypocrite, caught up in your own lies and platitudes for your so-called, advances in humanity. You are nothing more than an animal, a brute, a demonic subhuman unworthy of participation in the scientific field.

There is a special circle of hell for wicked men like you. I will not be a part of your descent into madness! Rita's shouts echoed throughout the lab room, eliciting a canine-like howl that echoed and resounded from a few rooms away. The doctor began to laugh and chuckle as he raised a hand to his bruised face. Now, be a good gear and do your part. My goals, my lofty, almost heavenly aspirations, are unworthy of your tainted stories.

Very well then Rita, I welcome you to my study. Welcome to Eden. As soon as the doctor had finished his berating of the woman, Rita seized the opportunity to run to the opposite side of the lab room, hastily sliding her keycard into the slot of the industrial-grade door. The door slid open with a mechanical purr as she quickly removed her lab coat, slinging it to the floor, and raced down the adjacent hallway in an attempt to escape from the doctor's twisted desires.

Beckerman merely stood there alone in the room. He leaned up against the lab bench and pulled out a small cell phone before rapidly dialing in a handful of digits. As Cat operator picked up, Beckerman's voice once more roared out into the silence.

As brief as the doctor's words was, they exhibited a chilling air to them, a large emphasis of control and power that shook even the hardiest of mental foundations presented in his voice. Looking down at the lab coast hastily discarded by the fleeing scientist, Beckerman looked at the name tag of his now-former colleague with disdain, spitting on the plastic of the card.

Your deception is that unlike of the serpent himself. Well, we shall see how long you can slither out from under my nose. Amidst the groggy haze and delirium, my mind and body had fallen into, I was aware of the sound of metallic wheels clacking and rolling against a hard, concrete surface.

I felt my body moving up and down in a rhythmic time as I continued down along a path unknown. Every now and then, my eyes would flicker open for a fleeting moment, allowing me to catch a glimpse of my captors. I was securely fastened to a medical stretcher, my body clothed in a stained hospital gown. I could see that I was barefoot, with my legs sticking out from the bottom of the dress. My arms and legs were securely fastened to the stretcher in strong coils of metal wire that wrapped around the underside of the bed and safely pinned me in place.

My head was throbbing and beating. It felt as if a mallet had been smashed into my cranium, sending my mind reeling and struggling to piece itself back together.

All the while my consciousness was gradually coming reach back into clarity, I took the opportunity to glean as much information from my surroundings as I could. Overhead, I saw blinding white lamps attached to the ceiling, passing by every now and then as my stretcher moved down a chalky-white hallway, completely devoid of features and any sense of emotion. Was I dead? Was this what the afterlife looked like? Who could truly say for sure? The individuals pushing my stretcher adorned in white doctor's masks, and heavy lab-wear could be angels for all I knew. However, in my mind, I knew that they were in fact, devils; the very bane of my year-old existence.

Dread clenched my insides, sending my hands shaking and rattling against the cord binding me. I screamed out.

Shrieking and calling out to my assailants. I cursed and threatened them. It was Cat to no avail. I was powerless and subject to their mercy if any at all. The haze began to clear from my mind as I recalled the day that had seen me captured and dragged along story the helpless victim I was.

My name was Cody, Cody Blues to be exact. Although my friends often called me Blues for short. Unlike my name suggested, I was a happy young man, full of energy, full of spirit, and full of vitality. I was athletic as well, serving on my high school's track team and even taking one or two awards in the pole-vault events during district competitions.

My friend's remarked on my cat-like reflexes and a keen sense of focus in whatever I did. However, on that fateful day, no manner of attention or skill could change my fate.