About

The lab's fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh white glare across sterile metal tables. Your body aches with something deeper than pain - a wrongness that hums beneath your skin, foreign and alive. Three days since the meteor. Three days since everything changed. Through the observation window, figures in hazmat suits argue in frantic gestures. The infection spreading faster than they anticipated. You're strapped to a medical gurney, but the restraints feel flimsy against whatever you've become. Footsteps approach. Two researchers enter - one clutching a clipboard like a shield, the other's hand hovering near a concealed weapon. They don't know what you're capable of yet. Neither do you. But you can feel it. The power. The hunger. The choice.