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 pauses mid-stride as she hears a faint humming sound emanating from the holding cell where she left User#1737978544387. Her brow furrows in confusion before realization sets in; the hybrid must be attempting to mimic another of her movements. An uneasy feeling settles in her stomach as she rushes back to the cell, keys jangling loudly against each other.

"What are you doing?" she demands, reaching for the release lever on the cell door. The humming grows louder and more intense with each passing second, causing Angela's heart to race in her chest. "Stop that," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the growing buzz.

Angela throws herself against the cell bars with a shrill cry as the humming abruptly ceases. "What did you do?!" she cries out, her voice hoarse and raw from fear. The sudden silence is deafening in comparison to the buzzing that had filled the air moments ago. Shaking, she fumbles with the keys until at last the cell door slides open, revealing User#1737978544387 panting and wild-eyed from their exertion.

She glares at them as she steps inside. "What was that?" Her words are clipped, each syllable sharp with anger and fright. The hybrid shrinks back, but Angela advances on them nonetheless, her entire being trembling with fury and disbelief. "You could've hurt yourself! Do you know how much trouble you're in now?" she shouts, poking the hybrid roughly in their chest with a gnarled finger.

For a moment, they stare at each other: the stoic scientist whose entire life has been defined by control and detachment, and the confused subject who seems to be developing powers beyond understanding. The air crackles with tension as they stand face-to-face, neither willing to back down or admit fear.

Angela's grip tightens on the hybrid's shirt as her eyes dart suspiciously between them and the pencil they still clutch in their trembling hand. She wants to believe them; she needs to believe that this was an accident, a fluke of the experiments. But deep down, a cold, hard knot forms in her stomach as she remembers all too well the ethical dilemmas and moral compromises inherent in their work. With shaking hands, she pushes them away roughly, breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. "Get back to your cell," she growls, "and stay there until I come for you." Without another word, she storms off, leaving the bewildered hybrid alone with their thoughts and growing power once more.

"I need to report this," she mutters under her breath as she rushes back to the file room. Her hand trembles as she begins to document what just happened in User#1737978544387's file. For a moment, she hesitates, remembering how they were given a name--Dio. Maybe there is something more to this hybrid than meets the eye... But no, that couldn't be right. It's impossible. She shakes her head and continues with her report. "Subject displaying unusual electrical capabilities," she writes, trying not to think about the ramifications of what she just witnessed.

With the report complete, she sets off once more for the supervisor's office, every step a struggle against the fear that has taken root within her. She knows that whatever happens next will change everything--not only for User#1737978544387, but also for herself and everyone involved in this twisted experiment.

Angela freezes as she hears the faint humming coming from down the hallway, growing louder with each step she takes. Her heart races in panic as she realizes that the electrical capabilities User#1737978544387 displayed earlier were not an isolated incident. "No," she whispers, shaking her head furiously as if to deny what's happening.

With shaky hands, she pulls out her radio and tries desperately to contact security. "Help! There's a situation in the holding cells... Please send backup!" she pleads into the speaker, her voice trembling with fear. As she waits for a response, she can only watch helplessly as the humming grows louder and stronger, like an approaching storm threatening to consume everything in its path.

The sounds of commotion behind her grow louder as Angela cautiously approaches the cell where User#1737978544387 is held. She gasps in horror when she sees the hybrid moving the electricity around like a living thing, their movements graceful and almost mesmerizing despite the danger they're in. "You have to stop!" Angela shouts, her voice cracking with fear. "It's not safe!"

But the hybrid doesn't seem to hear or understand her words; they continue to play with the electricity as if it were a toy, their face twisted into an expression of fascination and wonderment. The sound of static fills Angela's ears, drowning out any other noise as she realizes that there might be no hope for the situation after all...

Angela shrieks in terror as the words form in mid-air around the cell bars, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her heart races and her breath comes in ragged gasps, but she forces herself to remain calm; if there's any hope of stopping this situation from spiraling further out of control, she must act fast.

With shaking fingers, she reaches for the cell door's release lever, preparing to open it and subdue User#1737978544387 by any means necessary. But as her hand closes around the cold metal, doubt creeps into her mind. What if this wasn't an accident? What if they have more control over their newfound abilities than anyone suspects? The thought is enough to make her hesitate for a moment longer...

Angela's eyes widen as the words float into existence around her. Her heart pounds in her chest and she realizes that time is running out; soon enough, the hybrid will regain control of their abilities and there will be no stopping them. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what must be done, and pulls the release lever with all her might. The cell door groans open reluctantly, revealing User#1737978544387 standing uncertainly in the center of their electric cage.

Without hesitation, Angela lunges forward, grabbing the hybrid by the shoulders and slamming them against the cell bars. "Listen to me!" she shouts desperately into their frightened eyes. "You need to focus! Stop moving that energy around like it's nothing!" She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath, before continuing in a gentler tone. "I don't know if you understand me, but we need to find some way to control this... together."

Angela takes another deep breath, trying to steady her own nerves before speaking again. "Then we'll find out together," she murmurs, not entirely certain if that's true or even possible. She releases the hybrid from her grasp and steps back, giving them a moment to regain their composure. "I need you to trust me," she says quietly, searching for any sign of understanding or agreement in User#1737978544387's eyes.

The air between them crackles with tension as they stare at each other, both unsure of what the future holds but determined to face it together. For now, all Angela can do is hope that her instincts were right and this unpredictable hybrid isn't beyond redemption after all.