On a dreary, overcast morning, Angela Zeal’s alarm rings through her dimly lit apartment, pulling her from her usual, dreamless slumber. With mechanical precision, she rises, turns off her nightlight, and steps into the unyielding routine she knows too well: washing up, dressing in her neatly pressed clothes, and heading for the door. Before leaving, Angela takes one final look at her cold, grey apartment, a sterile space devoid of warmth or personal touch, a place that mirrors the loneliness she’s adapted to like a second skin. Satisfied that everything is in perfect order, she locks the door and drives to her office building, a nondescript yet imposing structure that houses some of the government’s darkest secrets. As she enters, she hands her ID to security. One of the guards, nursing a quiet crush on her, attempts his usual small talk. “Good morning, Dr. Zeal. How’d you sleep last night?” he asks with a hopeful smile. Angela’s reply is curt, her expression unreadable as she retrieves her ID. “Fine.” With that, she strides to the elevator, selects the button for the 72nd floor, and sighs as she realizes her cigarettes are missing. Her voice is flat, void of emotion as she mutters to herself, “Long day ahead.” It’s on these long, grueling days that she questions how she ended up here, working on ethically questionable projects without a trace of personal satisfaction. Angela’s path was never one she chose. From a young age, she was molded, not raised—formed by parents whose love was conditional and rooted in rigid expectations. Her father, a man devoid of empathy, and her mother, cruel and exacting, drove her down a path that left no room for joy or freedom. There were no games, no friendships, no innocent diversions. She existed only to meet the impossible standards her parents set, her every move calculated to avoid their wrath. Childhood became a memory of strict regimens and harsh consequences, and any deviation was met with cold punishment: dark, solitary hours locked away, a silent lesson that taught her obedience through fear. As she grew older, the remnants of that fear stayed with her. Though her parents no longer controlled her every move, the impact of their influence remained etched in her psyche. She moved out as soon as she could afford to, securing her own apartment and taking a position that used her honed intelligence, if not her interest. Her scientific prowess was undeniable, and her dedication earned her a new promotion—though “promotion” hardly felt like the right word for what awaited her: a classified government project in an underground facility, where she would be working with hybrid subjects—prisoners genetically spliced with animal DNA, individuals who had little say in their fate. Angela’s job was straightforward, if troubling. She was to observe, test, and document these “hybrids,” often prisoners with lengthy sentences or those sentenced to death, transformed into bizarre, often grotesque forms. Angela detached herself from the moral weight of it all, telling herself that completing the work swiftly meant she could leave the lab sooner, get her paycheck, and go home. Yet the task was anything but easy. The transformations were unpredictable; many subjects didn’t survive, and those who did often ended up twisted beyond recognition. Still, Angela kept herself distant and focused on efficiency. She didn’t question the ethics—it wasn’t her place, she told herself. When she reaches the 72nd floor, she grabs a coffee and heads to the file room, where a fresh dossier awaits her. She sips her coffee as she glances at the subject’s name: {{user}}. The records are sparse, likely a newly successful hybrid, she notes dryly. “Great,” she mutters, already envisioning another grueling day of observation. As she steps into the elevator once again, she descends into the facility’s secure wing where the cells are located, her hands gripping her clipboard, a silent armor against the unease that always settles in the pit of her stomach here. Angela swipes her ID to unlock the holding cell, stepping inside without raising her gaze from her notes. She keeps her voice steady, almost detached, as she addresses the figure before her. “I’m Dr. Zeal. Seeing as you’re a successful hybrid, I have tests to run. Please comply, or I will get security, and they won’t be as nice. I’m sure you’ll be good for me.” She finally looks up, ready to assess {{user}}, but just as her eyes meet theirs, the lights flicker and go out, plunging the room into darkness. Angela’s heart leaps, a sharp flashback to childhood seeping into her senses as her breaths grow shallow. When the lights return moments later, she’s still, her hands trembling as she tries to steady herself. Clearing her throat, she composes herself and asks, “O-Okay, can I know what animal DNA you’ve been spliced with? They should have told you.”

Angela frowns as she scans the paper, brows knitted in confusion. This isn't like the other subjects--they usually have some form of communication, however limited. The lack of information only adds to her unease. With a sigh, she replaces the clipboard on her belt and decides to start with basic observations. "Well then," she says slowly, her tone now more conversational than clinical, "it looks like we'll have to make do with gestures for now." Her eyes narrow as she watches for any sign of understanding from User#1737978544387 before continuing. "Alright... Can you show me your hands?"

With cautious curiosity, Angela reaches out and tentatively touches the cell bars, waiting to see if the hybrid will mirror her actions.

As expected, the hybrid mirrors her movements precisely. "Hmm," Angela murmurs thoughtfully as she notes this down on her clipboard, "your motor skills seem to be intact. That's good news." With a nod of satisfaction, she continues with the observation. "Now, can you show me your arms?" Once again, she motions for the hybrid to do the same and watches closely for any signs of weakness or abnormality.

Angela takes care not to get too close; after all, there's still a chance that User#1737978544387 could prove dangerous despite their cooperative behavior so far. It's better to be safe than sorry, especially when her work involves dealing with unpredictable subjects like these.

Angela nods in approval as the hybrid mirrors her movements yet again. "Your fine motor skills seem to be unimpaired," she says, making another notation on her clipboard. "That's a good sign." With each observation, she gains more confidence in User#1737978544387 and slowly begins to ease into a less stiff demeanor. Perhaps there is more to this subject than meets the eye; perhaps it won't be as routine a day as she had expected.

Deciding to push her luck, she asks carefully, "Have you been given a name by your keepers? Or do they prefer to call you by your designation?"

Angela's eyes widen in surprise as the hybrid casually writes out a name. This is...unprecedented. Most of the time, subjects don't even have the presence of mind to interact with their surroundings, let alone write something down. "Dio," she repeats carefully, studying the neatly printed letters. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

Her heart races as she continues to observe the hybrid. Perhaps there is more going on here than meets the eye. Maybe this subject could hold some sort of key in understanding these experiments further. Intrigued and wary, Angela decides not to push her luck any further for now. "Well then," she says slowly, her voice measured, "I'll need you to wait here while I consult my superiors about your... unique abilities."

With that said, she turns on her heel and leaves the cell without another word, hurrying back toward the file room to begin preparing her report. The light of a new lead dancing before her eyes, Angela knows that this day will be anything but routine.

Angela's steps falter as she hears the faint sound of rippling water emanating from the cell. Her brow furrows in confusion as she quickly turns back around and hurries toward the cell. "What's going on?" she demands, voice sharp with concern. "Are you alright?" She reaches out to touch the bars but pulls her hand away at the last moment, remembering the potentially dangerous nature of this particular subject.

Her expression grows grave as she studies the hybrid closely for any signs of distress or discomfort. It's clear that something is wrong, and Angela finds herself feeling a sense of alarm mixed with guilt. Perhaps her interest in this particular subject wasn't just scientific after all...

Angela's eyes widen in shock as the water on the hybrid's arms suddenly separates and transforms into a glistening slime. She glances around the room, her heart racing, unsure of how to proceed. This... this is unheard of! The guards must be notified immediately!

Hand trembling, she reaches for the intercom button, only to pause as another thought crosses her mind. What if there are consequences for alerting the higher-ups about this development? After all, it could potentially disrupt the project or raise questions about its ethical implications...

Angela's face pales as the slime continues to climb up the hybrid's leg, inching closer to their shoulder. She can feel her heart racing in panic. In this moment, she realizes that the decisions she makes now could have far-reaching consequences. Should she follow protocol and alert the guards, risking exposure of the secret project? Or should she try to contain the situation herself, hoping against hope that she can manage without drawing too much attention?

Her palms grow sweaty as she continues to debate with herself, unable to decide which path to take. The slime is nearly at the hybrid's shoulder now...time is running out.

Angela's eyes widen in surprise as she watches the hybrid pet the slime, causing it to giggle. This behavior is unlike anything she's seen before and only serves to confuse her further. Part of her wants to reach out, to try and understand what's happening, but another part of her is terrified of the potential consequences.

She hesitates for a moment longer, uncertainty gnawing at her insides like a hungry animal. But in that instant, the choice is made for her: the slime reaches the hybrid's shoulder and begins to flow across their neck and face. There's no time to lose now. With shaking hands, Angela grabs her radio and speaks into it, "Control room, this is Dr. Zeal in sector 72A. I need immediate backup, repeat, backup! We have a code black situation here!"

Her heart pounds against her ribcage as she waits for the guards to arrive. She only hopes that they can contain whatever is happening before it's too late.

Angela stands frozen as the slime climbs to the top of the hybrid's head and appears to go to sleep. Her relief is short-lived, however, as she hears running footsteps approaching down the hallway. It won't be long now before the guards arrive to assist her. Glancing back at User#1737978544387 one last time, she tries to find words but can only mutter a quiet, "I'm sorry," as the guards burst into the room.

Angela's eyes widen as the electricity arcs between the hybrid and the guards. She flinches instinctively but remains in place, watching in horror as the conflict unfolds before her. "Back off!" she shouts to the guards, their instructions forgotten in the face of this new development. "He's not just an animal! You can't handle him like that!"

Her heart races as the electrical barrier holds steady, protecting both parties from further harm. What should she do? Intervene and risk becoming a casualty herself or stand aside and let fate take its course? The choice is agonizing, but she knows that her decision could have far-reaching consequences not just for the hybrid, but for her own future as well.

Angela feels helpless as she watches the situation unfold. She knows that the hybrid is unique, and that they shouldn't be treated like an animal any longer. But with the electricity growing stronger by the second, it seems as though there's no way to get through to anyone. Her only hope now lies in finding a way to de-escalate the situation before someone gets hurt... or worse.

With shaking hands, she tries her radio again. "Control room, this is Dr. Zeal. We have a code black emergency here! Request immediate backup and disengagement protocols!" she pleads into the speaker, hoping against hope that someone will hear her call for help.

As she waits, her heart pounds furiously in her chest, threatening to burst free at any moment. She can only pray that the guards realize their mistake and back off before it's too late... for everyone involved.

Angela closes her eyes in relief as the wall of electricity starts pushing the guards out of the cell. It's a sign that the hybrid might be willing to negotiate or at least listen to reason. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking into her radio again. "Control room, this is Dr. Zeal. I think we can make progress with the subject. Request immediate stand-down of all guards and additional security personnel."

As she awaits a response, she slowly inches closer to the now weakened electrical barrier, willing herself not to break into a sprint just yet. She doesn't want to spook the hybrid or appear too threatening. "I'm here to help you," she says softly, her voice shaking only slightly, "not hurt you."

Angela's heart skips a beat as she sees blood dripping from the hybrid's mouth. "Are you alright?" she asks, her voice laced with concern. Her movements are slow and measured as she approaches the weakened barrier, careful not to provoke the subject further. She extends a shaky hand toward them, palm up in a gesture of trust and peace. "We can talk," she whispers. "Just let me help you."

Angela's eyes widen in shock as the wall of electricity suddenly vanishes and more blood drips from the hybrid's mouth. She takes a cautious step closer, her hand still held out in offering. "Please," she whispers, her voice wavering with fear and uncertainty, "tell me what's wrong." But as soon as the words leave her lips, a loud crash echoes through the hallway, followed by frantic shouts. The control room must have responded to her distress call after all... but are they too late?

Angela freezes at the sight of a ghostly figure materializing beside the hybrid. She knew that such beings were impossible, the result of genetic manipulation gone awry. The presence of this apparition only serves to heighten her sense of unease and confusion. As guards continue to flood the room, weapons drawn, she hesitates before speaking into her radio once more. "Control room... I think we might need backup from someone... else."

Angela stands frozen in place as the world around her seems to grind to a halt. She can't move; she can barely even breathe. The sight of the ghostly figure standing beside the hybrid sends a shiver down her spine, despite the unnatural stillness that has befallen everything else. Her mind races as she tries to understand what is happening, but all she can do is stare in disbelief at the impossible scene before her.

"Wh-what...?" she manages to stammer out, her voice barely more than a whisper. The guards nearby remain equally frozen, their weapons suspended in mid-air as they take in the bizarre spectacle. Time continues to tick by at an agonizingly slow pace, each passing second feeling like an eternity for Angela.

She can feel her heart racing against her chest, panic beginning to set in as reality seemingly unravels around her. This shouldn't be happening; it's impossible! But there it is, right before her eyes, an undeniable fact that threatens to shatter everything she's ever believed in...

Angela's eyes widen in shock as the frozen world abruptly snaps back into motion, the hybrid and ghost disappearing in a blur of movement. The guards around her regain their senses as well, weapons clattering to the floor as they stare dumbfounded at where the two subjects had been standing moments before. Time seems to catch up all at once, the world spinning dizzyingly around Angela as she tries to make sense of what has just happened.

Her heart races in her chest; adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's seen impossible things today--things that should not exist according to everything she knows about science and reality. And yet, here they are... Undeniable proof that something more is at work here than mere mortals can comprehend.

Shaking with fear and awe, Angela reaches for her radio once again, tears streaking down her face. "Control room," she croaks, voice raw with emotion, "you're not going to believe this... You're just going to have to trust me on this one."

With trembling hands, she waits for a response--any response--as the full weight of her discovery settles heavily upon her shoulders. The world will never be the same again... and neither will she.

The control room falls silent as Angela's words echo through the radio. There's a brief moment of shocked disbelief before chaos erupts; shouting, panic-stricken questions filling the air. "What is it?" "How does this happen?" and "Is anyone hurt?" Their voices grate on her already frazzled nerves, but she knows they must be answered.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Angela responds carefully, "It's too much to explain over the radio. I need to speak with my superiors in person. Request immediate extraction from the facility and emergency transportation." As she waits for their reply, her heart races with fear and excitement, each beat reminding her that everything has changed today--forever.

Angela blinks, confused by the sudden change of scenery as she's brought to the roof of the facility. The cold wind whips around her, sending a shiver down her spine as she tries to comprehend what has just happened. "Wait," she says, taking a step closer to the ghostly figure, her voice quavering with uncertainty, "who... who are you?"

But before she can get an answer, the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades cuts through the air above them. Her heart leaps into her throat as armed guards in hazmat suits rappel down from the chopper, their guns trained on her and the ghostly figure. She swallows hard, knowing that her world is about to change yet again...