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In Oops, yeah, a fadiskest not mezzan. Beware the Redwood Bureau, a secret organization which captures and researches creatures and objects that defy explanation. Their reckless procedures have led to countless innocent lives lost. I am agent Conroy. I work for the Redwood Bureau, but I have escaped them to leak their reports to the unsuspecting public. You have the right to know. We will still find you with the huge standup.
Conroy is our mission. I am Cypher. I work with Conroy against the Bureau, and against the entities in Phenomenal and threat in his lives. Our team is growing, and we intend to be what the Redwood Bureau should have been. In the early 2020s, the realm of cellular regeneration experienced an array of groundbreaking advancements, pushing the boundaries of what science deemed possible.
Researchers made notable progress in areas such as nerve repair and tissue engineering, heralding a new era of medical possibilities. Enhanced nerve guidance conduits emerged, significantly improving nerve regeneration and blood vessel formation, offering a beacon of hope for those suffering from debilitating nerve damage.
Additionally, strides in diabetes treatment showcase the potential to restore insulin producing cells, providing a glimmer of hope for millions affected by type 1 diabetes. Yet, these advancements, while promising, also invite appendurist box of unforeseen consequences. The relentless pursuit of progress can often blur the lines between innovation and reckless ambition. As history has shown, scientific breakthroughs frequently come at a cost, unanticipated and far too often horrifying.
The Redwood Bureau has long been in the forefront of uncovering and documenting such instances with the quest for knowledge spirals into terror. Within the leverentine archives of the Bureau, countless cases highlight the perils pushing the limits of scientific inquiry, many, by their own hands. The case at hand, delves into the dark side of cellular regeneration, revealing a tale of obsession, desperation, and the gruesome consequences that ensue when the natural order is defied.
Dr. Griffin, a name not widely known in the public domain, was a trusted source in this field. His work helped in small ways on many large projects that advanced medical science. But as he sought to spotlight and recognition, his theories became franch and his standing in the scientific community crumbled. He faded away into obscurity, living the quiet life of a college professor. That was, until someone he deeply cared for, became terminally ill.
His new project, shrouded in secrecy, and driven by a personal vendetta against a devastating illness, raises many questions. What lengths would someone go to save a loved one? How far would the consequences of their actions reach? Even the most well-intentioned endeavors conspiral into chaos?
The story of Dr. Griffin serves as a grim reminder that not all advancements lead to enlightenment. Sometimes, they open doors to the darkest corners of human nature, where the price of knowledge is paid in blood. The Redwood Bureau remains dedicated to finding and exploiting these hidden horrors, ensuring that such dark chapters of scientific exploration do not remain bearable.
And that concludes our discussion on cellular regeneration. Remember, understanding the fundamentals is key to any breakthrough. Before you go, don't forget to review chapters 4 and 5 for next week. They'll be essential for your understanding of our next topic. Dr. Griffin, could I have a moment? Of course, Alice. What's on your mind? I was wondering if there's any extra credit work I could do. I need to fulfill some credit requirements, and I thought maybe...
Extra credit? Hmm. Well, I do have a project that could use an extra pair of hands, but it's very delicate work. I can handle Dr. Griffin. Whatever it is, I'm up for the challenge. All right, meet me at Halsey tonight at 8. We'll go over the details then. Thank you, Dr. Griffin. I won't let you down. I've spent most of my career as a professor passing down knowledge to eager minds, but my true passion has always been my research.
For years, I've been obsessed with cellular regeneration. The idea that we could repair and rejuvenate damaged tissues, perhaps even reverse aging. It's a lofty goal, one that many of my colleagues have dismissed as fantasy, but I never gave up. My daughter, Lily, was diagnosed with a rare form of cellular decay at the age of 5. The doctors said there was no cure, that it was only a matter of time. Watching her deteriorate, seeing the life drained from her vibrant eyes is unbearable.
I knew I had to find a solution, something that would defy the conventional wisdom of modern medicine. My research began with the basics, studying cellular structures, experimenting with different compounds. Progress was slow, and I faced countless setbacks. But then, I discovered something, a compound that should promise that seemed to stimulate cellular activity in a way I'd never seen before. It was a breakthrough, but it was also incredibly volatile. I needed to refine it, perfect it.
Alice had approached me for extra credit, eager to learn and willing to help. At first, I was reluctant, this was my project, my last hope to save Lily. But I realized I can't do it alone. I need an assistant, someone with steady hands and a sharp mind. Alice certainly fits the bill. I'll keep most of the details from her, only sharing what she needs to know to help with the experiments. It's safer that way, for both of us, the less she knows, the better.
She's shown herself to be competent, and her curiosity, while sometimes troublesome, is also a sign of her dedication. I just have to ensure she doesn't dig too deep. Today's experiment is crucial. I've prepared the lab, a sterile area I've set up in an old basement storage room. It's not ideal, but it affords me the privacy I need. The equipment is ready, the compound prepared. All I need now is Alice's assistance.
As I stand in the dimly lit basement waiting for her to arrive, I can't help but feel a mix of hope and dread. This has to work, it has to. For Lily's sake and for my own, I'm not just fighting to save my daughter. I'm fighting to prove my life's work has not been in vain. I hear footsteps approaching, and I take a deep breath. Time to push forward to take the next step. I've passed the point of no return long ago. I just hope I'm not leading Alice into something she won't be able to handle.
But I don't have a choice. Desperation has driven me to this point, and I'll see it through to the end. My name is Alice, and I'm a sophomore at the University, majoring in biology. Ever since I was a kid, I've been fascinated by the mysteries of life and the potential of science to solve them. So when Dr. Girpin, one of the most brilliant and underappreciated professors I've ever met, offered me an opportunity to work on a secret project for extra credit, I chumped at the chance.
Dr. Girpin has always been somewhat of an enigma to me. He's passionate, dedicated, and undeniably brilliant. But there's a sadness in his eyes that I've never quite understood. I've heard whispers about his daughter and the rare disease she's battling, but he's never mentioned her to me. Despite his reserve nature, I've always admired him and hoped to learn from his vast knowledge. After Alice left the lab, I took a moment to reflect on the day's progress.
Despite my initial reservations about involving someone else in my work, I had to admit that her assistance was proving invaluable. Her hands were steady, her mind sharp, and she followed my instructions without question. Yet there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes that I couldn't ignore. I need her help, but I can't afford to let her know too much. The stakes are far too high. Today, we focused on refining the compound and testing its effects on dead cell cultures.
The process was delicate and required precise timing. We started by preparing the solution, a mixture of several reagents that, when combined, create the serum's base. This involved measuring out exact quantities of each reagent and ensuring there were mixed under sterile conditions. Any contamination could ruin the entire batch. Once the base was ready, we moved on to the critical step, adding the reanimation agent.
This is the heart of the serum, a substance that I had painstakingly refined over countless hours of research. But it's volatile and unpredictable. It's missing something. I'm just not sure what. We worked in tandem, Alice and I, her hands mirroring mind as we prepared for the cultures. The dead cells needed to be handled with care, and the compound had to be administered within a very narrow window to ensure its effectiveness.
The slightest deviation in timing could lead to failure or worse in uncontrollable reaction. As we injected the serum into the cell cultures, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. The cells began to twitch showing signs of life. It was a site that never ceased to amaze me even after all this time. But there's always a caveat. The reanimated cells were unstable, prone to rapid mutations and aggressive growth.
I've yet to find a way to control these side effects and it's a constant source of frustration. Alice seemed fascinated by the process. Her eyes wide with wonder as she watched the cells come to life. I could see the questions forming in her mind, but she kept them to herself, at least for now. Her curiosity is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it drove her to excel in the lab, but on the other, it threatens the confidential nature of my project.
After we finished the experiments for the day, I knew I needed to keep her in the dark about many aspects of the project. The serum's true nature, its origins and the extent of its potential had to remain a secret. At least until I could ensure it was safe and effective. My daughter's life depended on it and I can't afford any missteps. I made a mental note to be more cautious in the future, to guard my notes and restrict her access to only what was necessary for her tasks.
It's not that I don't trust her, just that I can't risk her finding out too much too soon. The work we are doing is groundbreaking, but it's also dangerous. I have to protect both her and myself from the consequences of the serum's requirements. As I cleaned up the lab and prepared for the next day's work, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Alice was brilliant and eager, deserving of more transparency and fairness than I can offer.
I only hope that when the time comes, she'll understand why I had to keep her in the dark. For now, I would continue to guide her, teach her, and utilize her skills, all while keeping the most critical aspects of my research hidden from view. The first day in the lab was odd, to say the least. I was expecting a state-of-the-art facility, something to be fitting the groundbreaking research doctor Griffin hinted at. Instead, I found myself in an old, dusty basement storage room.
He had cleaned and cleared a small area, hanging plastic sheets to create a makeshift sterile lab. It was far from what I had imagined, but I reasoned that secrecy often required sacrifices and comfort anesthetics. Dr. Griffin was meticulous in his instructions. My tasks mainly involved handling delicate procedures, assisting with the preparation of the compound, and ensuring everything was done within a precise timeframe. The compound itself was fascinating. I'd never seen anything like it.
It seemed to pre-life into the dead cell cultures we worked on, reanimating them in a way that defied everything I thought I knew about biology. When I tried asking about its origins and composition, Dr. Griffin would only give me vague answers or outright ignore my questions. His secret of nature was unsettling, but I tried to push my unease aside. I was here to learn after all, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Still, there were moments when I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The makeshift lab, the mysterious compound, and Dr. Griffin's reluctance to share details all added to a growing sense of apprehension. After our first day working together, I couldn't stop thinking about the project. The way the compound affected the cells was incredible, almost magical, but there was a dark side to it too. The cells didn't just regenerate. They changed, becoming something different.
More aggressive, more chaotic. It was as if the compound was bringing them back to life, but not in the way nature intended. Dr. Griffin's behavior was also becoming more erratic. He was always on edge, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to burst in at any moment. His hands shook slightly as he handled the delicate equipment, and I could see the strain in his face. He was pushing himself too hard, and it was starting to show.
Despite my growing unease, I couldn't deny my fascination with the project. I wanted to know more, to understand the science behind it. But most of all, I wanted to prove myself to Dr. Griffin. I wanted him to see that I was more than just a student, that I could be a valuable asset to his research. As I left the basement that evening, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stepping into something far bigger than I anticipated.
The dark, empty hallways of the university seemed to close in around me, and I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder as I walked to my car. This project was going to change everything. I just hoped it would be for the better. The following week felt like an eternity. I couldn't stop thinking about the previous experiment, and that strange, almost frantic way Dr. Griffin had acted. The image of the dead cells twitching to life, lingered in my mind. A mix of fascination and discomfort.
His lab setup was unconventional, to say the least, and the secrecy surrounding his work only added to the strangeness of it all. One afternoon, after a particularly grueling lecture, Dr. Griffin approached me. His demeanor was more intense than usual, his eyes darting around as if he were constantly on the lookout for something or someone. Alice, he said, his voice low in urgent. I need your help tonight. There are some very delicate experiments I need to perform, and I can't do it alone.
Your steady hands and quick thinking are essential. I agreed with a sense of apprehension. His urgency was contagious, and despite my reservations, I was eager to see more of his groundbreaking work. Evening, I arrived at the lab to find Dr. Griffin already there, pacing back and forth, his face a mask of frustration and determination. He barely acknowledged my presence, instead diving straight into instructions. Quickly, Alice, he said, moathing for me to join him at the lab bench.
The setup was even more elaborate than before, with a series of beakers, test tubes, and other equipment I couldn't even name. The air was saturated with a scent of chemicals and something foul. I tried to follow along as best I could. Dr. Griffin's commands were rapid and specific, leaving no room for error. Measure out 0.5 milliliters of solution A, and add it to beaker 3. He ordered. Now, mix it with 2 grams of solution B, and heat it to 75 degrees Celsius.
The process was complex, involving several stages of heating, cooling, and mixing. Each step had to be performed with exact precision, and the mood was tense. I found myself holding my breath. My hands shaking slightly as I executed each task with growing stress. Finally, after what felt like hours, Dr. Griffin held up a while containing a clear, slightly luminescent liquid. He inspected it closely, his eyes narrowing in concentration. This should work.
He muttered to himself, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else. He then walked over to a sealed container and retrieved a dead rat. Its lifeless body limped in his gloved hands. He placed it on the table in front of us, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. What was he planning to do? With practiced precision, Dr. Griffin filled his syringe with the serum, and without hesitation, injected it directly into the rat's brainstem.
We both watched the silence in the room almost deafening for a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. The rat lay still, a lifeless husk. Then suddenly, the rat's body began to twitch. It started with slight movements in its limbs. Then escalated into violent spasms. I could see the muscles contracting and tightening to the point where the skin seemed ready to burst. I took a step back, horrified, but unable to look away.
The spasms grew more intense, and before I could even process what was happening, the rat's body convulsed violently and practically exploded, spraying blood in tissue across the table. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a scream. Dr. Griffin stood there, his face a mix of agitation and disappointment. Damn it! He snapped. He turned to me, his eyes hard. Leave, Alice. I need to rework the serum. I'll let you know when the next trial is ready.
I didn't need to be told twice. I hurried out of the lab. My mind reeling from what I had just witnessed. The image of the rat's violent end was seared into my mind. The tip of the iceberg when it came to what this mystery compound was capable of. As I made my way up the steps, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was getting involved in something far more insidious than I had previously thought. Morning and single and orphaned, day and night.
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In this pre-order round, orders received before October 1, 2024 will ship by October 31, 2024. Now get out there and prepare to make your werewolf eat your friend's skinwalkers and all that. When four friends embark on a guy's trip to go ice fishing in the Alaskan wilderness, they expect adventure. But find horror instead. After strange events and gruesome gifts are left at the remote cabin, the men set out to find help, only to become hopelessly lost in the ominous forest.
As an unseen evil stalks them, their friendships and sanity are pushed to the breaking point. This is lore, a new horror novel by Barry Napier. Buy lore today in paperback, hardcover, or digital at eeriecast.com slash lore. Or become a member at eeriecast.com slash plus. To listen to the exclusive members only audio book. Signal connection restored. The lab was suffused with the accurate scent of chemicals and failure.
I hadn't slept in days. The weight of my desperation pressing down on me like a physical burden. The serum had proven to be nothing short of a disaster. I reviewed the footage over and over. The rats' violent reaction replaying like the grotesque loop that it was. The sheer power of the serum was undeniable, but its volatility was a damning flaw. My hands shook as I scribbled notes, my thoughts racing faster than I could write.
The adrenal and pituitary extracts were potent, but clearly I was missing a crucial element. The serum needed stability, a way to control the violent reanimation process without sacrificing its regenerative properties. The clock on the wall take louder in the silence of the lab. Each second, a reminder of the time slipping away. My daughter's condition was worsening, the cellular decay accelerating despite my efforts. I can't afford to fail for much longer.
Her life, my reputation, and the future of my research are all at stake. Think William, think. I muttered to myself, pacing the narrow confines of the third rate lab. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows reflecting the turmoil inside me. I was closer than anyone's ever been, but the solution remained just out of reach. I needed fresh perspectives, new ideas, but who could I trust was something so groundbreaking? The scientific community had already dismissed me as a has been.
My colleagues too blinded by conventional methods to see the brilliance and potential of my work. I looked at the array of vials and syringes on the plastic covered table, each one a step closer to success or failure. Alice had been competent, but I was sure after today the questions would be mounting. And I was also sure I could only stall her curiosity for so long. I took a deep breath, my resolve hardening. I am Dr. William Griffin. I whispered to myself,
a mantra against the encroaching doubt. I will succeed where others have failed. I will cure my daughter and I will prove them all wrong. The serum had potential, immense potential. It just needed the right adjustments, the right balance. And I would find it no matter the cost. I have no other choice. The events of tonight's experiment were beyond my comprehension. I had witnessed something that until today I knew was impossible.
Dr. Griffin's experiment with the rat had shaken me to my core and I couldn't stop replaying the scene in my mind. The serum, the reaction, it defied everything I knew about biology. How could something dead be made to move again and in such a grotesque, violent manner? Determined to understand the truth of what was going on, I decided to wait in hiding until Dr. Griffin left the building.
I found a small dark corner behind a stack of old crates and boxes and crouched down, trying to steady my breathing. Hours passed, the silence of the night only amplifying my fear and confusion. Every little noise sent my mind racing, but I stayed put, determined to see this through. Finally, I heard the sound of footsteps out going through the hall. Picking out from my hiding place, I saw Dr. Griffin stumbling towards the exit.
He looked even worse than before. His hair was disheveled, his eyes wild, and he muttered incoherently to himself. My heart pounded as I watched him leave the building. His silhouette disappearing into the blackness of the moonless night. Once I was sure he was gone, I took a deep breath and emerged from my hiding spot. The building was eerily quiet, and the only sound, my own footsteps, and beating heart, as I made my way down the stairs to the lab.
The dim light from my phone's flashlight casting long, eerie shadows on the walls, heightening my sense of an ease. The lab with this makeshift setup felt even more sinister in the dark, plastic sheeting rustled softly, creating an unsettling backdrop to the silence. My hands trembled as I moved, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to know what Griffin was hiding. I reached the computer in the corner and powered it on. The faint hum of the machine breaking the silence.
The glow from the screen illuminated the lab, casting a cold light on the plastic sheeting and sterile equipment. I navigated through the files, searching for anything that could explain the madness I had witnessed. I found a folder labeled Project Genesis in Hezotid. My finger hovering over the mouse. Taking a deep breath, I clicked it open. The first document was a series of notes, and as I read the first line, my blood ran cold.
I leaned back, my mind racing. What he had done tonight was beyond any known science and the implications were terrifying. Griffin had a powerful and dangerous secret. I glanced around the lab, the sterile makeshift environment, now feeling much more like something wrong. Taking a deep breath, I started reading through the files. Initial research, beginning my true investigation into cellular regeneration techniques. Current methods show promise, a lack the necessary acceleration and stability.
I need a solution quickly. My daughter is suffering from a rare and aggressive form of a vascular necrosis. A disease that is eating away at the bone tissue of almost her entire body. Traditional treatments have proven ineffective, and her health is rapidly declining. The urgency of this project is beyond words. It's a race against time. I uncovered a collection of World War II era archives detailing the experiments of Dr. Carl Wise, a German scientist.
His work on cellular regeneration, though primitive, held remarkable potential. The key element was a serum he referred to as Geshoek does untoldes, which stimulated cellular growth and repair. However, the formula was incomplete and unstable, resulting in severe side effects and deemed too dangerous for further experimentation by the scientific community, following the fall of Nazi Germany.
Tracing Dr. Wise formula back, I discovered its origins in an ancient stone tablet unearthed by German archaeologists in the 1930s. The tablet contained cryptic inscriptions and symbols, hinting at a long-lost alchemical process. My preliminary analysis suggests that the tablet described a method for reanimating dead tissue, a revelation that could revolutionize medical science. The potential applications to my research are staggering. This could be exactly what I'm looking for.
With Lily's condition worsening, I exhausted all traditional methods. I had no choice but to turn it to the mysterious serum. The risks are immense, but the potential for saving her life severely outweighs them. I refined the formula as much as possible with the available data, but it remains highly unstable. Testing on live subjects is essential, yet ethical considerations would prohibit such open experimentation. The line between scientists and desperate father blurs further, each day.
To refine the serum, I acquired adrenal and pituitary glands from three donors fitting the necessary parameters. Their sacrifice, though regrettable, was necessary for the advancement of this research. Initial trials showed significant cellular regeneration for with severe instability leading to uncontrolled cellular growth and subsequent necrosis. The serum's instability posed a significant challenge requiring refinement to achieve controlled and sustainable regeneration.
The faces of my donors frequently haunt my dreams. My crimes were born of necessity and desperation, yet their deaths weigh heavily on me. Lily's condition drives me forward, but the cost of progress is becoming increasingly clear. The urgency to save her eclipses my ethical considerations as the progression of her condition presses on me relentlessly. Continued experimentation led to incremental improvements in the serum's stability, but the success rate remains alarmingly low.
The formula requires fresh living tissue to reach its full potential, a revelation underscoring the necessity of obtaining high-quality, viable samples. As my desperation grows, so does my determination to perfect this serum, no matter the cost. Alice, my teaching assistant, exhibits the ideal physiological characteristics for the next phase of experimentation. Her involvement thus far demonstrates her competence and dedication.
While I had hoped to spare her from the darker aspects of this research, her suitability cannot be ignored. The lab is prepared for the next round of testing, and the equipment is sterilized. Alice's participation, while unfortunate, may be the key to perfecting the formula. The stakes are rising with each passing moment, and the consequences of my actions will resonate far beyond this lab. With time running out, my desperation grows.
The serum's potential to cure Lily is within reach, yet the obstacles remain formidable. The ethical boundaries I once held dear have blurred, replaced by singular focus on saving her life. The weight of these upcoming decisions presses heavily upon me, but the goal remains clear. The next experiment will be the accumulation of months of research and immense sacrifice. I believe I know the missing ingredient before my serum is ready, and the donor has been selected by her own actions.
I do hope she can understand and forgive what I must do. Success will vindicate my efforts and provide a cure for Lily. Failure, however, is not an option. I stared at the computer screen in disbelief. My mind racing, trying to make sense of the notes I just read. Dr. Griffin's voice echoed in my head, the words blurring together in a horrifying narrative. My stomach churned, and I felt the bile rising. I had to get out of here. Backing away from the computer, I felt the cold sweat of my skin.
My breath came in shallow gasps, each one more desperate than the last. I needed to think, to process what I had just learned. But my mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion. I stumbled backward, really tripping over the tangled wires and scattered equipment. I felt like I was going to puke. I stumbled to a corner of the lab behind some plastic sheeting that hung like ghostly curtains. The sterile smell of disinfectant mixed with a faint scent of decay, making my stomach lurch again.
I clutched my stomach, fighting the urge to vomit, and leave behind evidence of my trespass. That's when I saw it. A large chest freezer against the wall. My heart pounded in my ears as I approached it. A sense of dread settling over me like a heavy fog. With trembling hands, I lifted the lid, and the sight that greeted me turned my blood to ice. Inside the freezer were the bodies of three people. Their faces pale and lifeless. Their bodies cut into and taken apart.
One of them was Kelly, a girl I knew from campus that had been missing for the last week. Her eyes were open, staring vagantly into the abyss. I couldn't hold it back any longer. I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat as I doubled over and vomited onto the cold hard floor. Anicked, I fumbled from my phone. My hands shaking so badly, I could barely keep hold it. I tried to call the police, but there was no service in the basement.
I cursed under my breath, my mind struggling to accept the reality of my situation. I had to get out of here, I had to stop him. I turned to run, heading for the stairs. But as I nearly reached the bottom step, I heard footsteps. My heart stopped. Dr. Griffin was coming back. I had to hide. I darted behind some old boxes and equipment, pressing myself against the wall and into the shadows. Breath came in short, silent gasps as I listened to the sounds of him moving around upstairs.
The minutes stretched into an eternity. I heard the door open, then closed, followed by the sound of a metallic click. Griffin's footsteps grew louder as he descended the stairs, muttering to himself. My heart pounded so loudly, I was sure he would hear it. I stayed perfectly still, praying he wouldn't find me. He walked into the lab, his movements agitated. I could hear the clinking of metal, the rustling of papers, and then the unmistakable sound of keys jingling.
He was getting something ready. I peered out for my hiding place, trying to see what he was doing without making a sound. Griffin's silhouette was desperation made physical. His form appeared every bit the mad scientist he was as he moved around the lab. My heart sank as I realized just how far his madness went. Maybe he was trying to cure his daughter, but this man was willing to do anything to achieve his goal, which made him a monster.
Suddenly, his voice rang out, shattering the tense silence into a million pieces. I know you're in here, Alice. My heart plummeted into my stomach. How did he know? You realize I get notifications when my computer is accessed, right? He continued, his tone almost mocking. I'm glad you're here, actually. Now we can perform what will hopefully lead to our last experiment. I felt a cold sweat right out of my forehead. I had to get out, but the only way out was past Griffin.
I stayed as still as possible, hoping he would move to a different part of the lab. But then I heard the sound of something heavy being dragged. I risked a glance around the corner of my hiding place and saw the shadow of Griffin hauling one of the bodies onto the table. He began to speak again, his voice tinged with excitement. I've realized how to fix the process, but I need some of your parts to perfect it, Alice.
I had blood ran cold. He was planning on doing to me what he had done to the others. I made a quick break for the stairs. My feet barely making a sound on the concrete floor, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. The shadow of him working on the body looming over me as I prep past the plastic sheeting. Each step up the stairs, filling me with anxiety as I pray for them not to squeak.
Well, when I reached the top stairs, hopelessness filled me as I found a new latch had been installed and was padlocked shut. I pulled on the lock and door trying desperately to escape. My breath catches as I hear a strange noise coming from the lab. Heart pounding, I cautiously peeked down the stairs. The body on the table is sitting up now. It's position stiff and unnatural. Panic surges through me and I know I need to move. To find somewhere to hide or escape.
I creeped down the stairs trying to be as quiet as possible. But my every movement now seems deafening in the oppressive silence. Dr. Griffin's voice echoes through the basement. Come and chillin'. Okay, number seven. Go bring me the girl. I freeze. The shadow of the body rises off the table. Its movements rigid and shuffling. It walks straight through the plastic sheeting, not parting it with its arms, but letting it brush over its head with a whispering sound.
I feel cold dread as I finally see the body up close. It's a young man about my age, but he's horribly mutilated. The top of his skull is gone, exposing the part of his brain that isn't missing, which glistens grotesquely under the harsh fluorescent lights and leaves a bloody streak on the otherwise perfect white plastic sheet. His left arm is missing, and his chest cavity is open, revealing some gruesome void where organs should be.
His face is slack, devoid of any emotion, but then his vacant eyes lock onto mine. And he starts moving faster. His one hand reaching out with a fiendish determination. I scream tears from my throat, and I scramble backward. My feet tangling together. I trippin' fall, knocking into the boxes and equipment. The noise echoing around the basement. The body keeps coming, relentless and horrifying. I try to get up to find my footing, but the terror has me paralyzed.
My hands tremble as I push myself backwards on the cold concrete floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps of panic. As the undead creature lurches toward me, I kick over a metal tray filled with instruments, the clattering sound loud enough to wake the dead. The irony is lost to me as I struggle to my feet, using the overturned table for support.
I dart a glance over my shoulder, my heart pounding in my ears. The door at the top of the stairs is my only escape, but I need the keys and it feels miles away. Suddenly, arms encircle me from behind, and I feel a sharp pinch in my neck. It's almost over. Dr. Griffin whispers in my ear. I thrash wildly, trying to break free from his grip, but my strength quickly washes away. Darkness closes in around the edges of my vision, my body growing heavy and unresponsive.
Before I succumb to the blackness, I catch a glimpse of the shambling corpse still advancing its dead eyes fixed on me as its one arm, cold and lifeless, crebs a hold of my legs. The last thing I hear is Dr. Griffin's calm, measured voice, a stark contrast to the horror unfolding around me. Don't worry, Alice. This is all for the greater good. My mind reels as I'm dragged into unconsciousness, the reality of my situation is thinking in. I'm aware now that there is no escape from this nightmare.
Dr. Griffin's madness knows no bounds. As the darkness swallows me, I'm left with a horrifying realization that I may never wake up again, and the even more terrifying possibility that I might. Redwood Bureau Phenomenon 0955. Awakening, protowalking, protocol. Another file from the no-back leaks, and another mail, and the Bureau's column. The disturbing truth of Dr. Griffin's research extends far beyond the contents in his leaked report.
By the time he was intercepted, the body count had almost reached a dozen. Griffin had been kidnapping, murdering, harvesting, and experimenting on people for months. Every failed experiment required fresh organs, and a new test subject. By the time he started working with Alice, the version of the serum he created, was far from what he'd initially intended. But it seems that at that point, he'd completely snapped.
For my own investigation, I found that his daughter had already tragically succumbed to her illness. Perhaps this is what caused the shift in his project. The goal may have changed from preservation to resurrection. Or, as we have seen far too many times, he may have simply lost himself to madness. Whatever the case may be, Dr. Griffin undeniably opened a door that should have remained closed. And worse yet, the Bureau watched him walk through it.
From the time he uncovered the findings of Carl Weiss, the Bureau's algorithms had him pinged as a person of interest. They monitored his devices, trapped his activity, and stood by him as he killed and tortured ten innocent civilians. The reason for this, the Redwood Bureau wanted to see, A, what he could accomplish on his own, with limited resources, and B, to make contact, at the time he'd be most vulnerable to their manipulation.
Exactly how many of the factors that led Griffin down this path were directly manipulated by the Bureau's agents, I'm unsure. But the answer isn't zero. I wouldn't be surprised to find out they somehow infected his daughter with a terminal illness, and led him directly to Weiss's files. Either way, it doesn't change things as they stand. The Bureau arrested Griffin, held him for questioning for a week, and then offered him a choice.
Disappear into a concrete tune, never to be seen or heard from again, or, kicking his work in a Bureau facility. I'm sure you can imagine what he chose, and what he's now working on under the tutelage and limitless resources of the Redwood Bureau. But with this leak, comes the same files and research Griffin bases work off of. In a rare stroke of luck, we have the same data they are using as a foundation for the dangerous research.
Our own people are working diligently on ways to undo whatever it is they are planning. When the time comes, I'm confident we'll have something to counteract their final chemical agent. What's even better than that, is that when we manage to get our hands on that stone tablet, there may just be a wage completely nullify the result of their serum. It's a long shot, but I'm positive the Bureau doesn't currently possess this relic.
Conroy is on a mission to procure this object as you hear these words. So whichever Bureau agents are listening, good luck trying to stop us. We don't have to hide in the shadows. The Empire, once invincible, crumbled under the weight of its own arrogance. Nothing could be more fit of you running the Bureau, working the dark to suit your own evil agenda. We'll see you in the light, where all who fight for humanity stand against you. Stand against you.
When I wake up, the first thing I notice is the cold. It seeps into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably. My vision is blurry, but I can make out the sterile white of the makeshift lab, and the shadowy figure of Dr. Griffin moving about. The recognition of my predicament crashes over me, and I struggle feebly against the restraints holding me in place. My wrists and ankles are bound tightly to the table, the leather straps digging into my skin.
Panic clears my foggy mind as I tug desperately at the bonds, but they hold fast. Dr. Griffin notices my movements and turns to face me, a serene smile on his face. Ah, you're awake. Good. We can begin. He says, his tone disturbingly casual. He walks towards me, his eyes glinting with a manic light. This won't take long, I promise. I scream and thrash, my voice echoing around the room. Please Dr. Griffin, don't do this. You don't have to do this.
My please wasted on the madman approaching, with calm even steps. The bone saw glinting menacingly in his hand. Relax, this is all part of the process. In the end, you'll have made one of the greatest contributions to science in modern history. He says, his voice almost soothing. He leans over me, inspecting the cutlines he must have drawn while I was unconscious. And I do apologize for not being able to offer you any anesthesia. The introduction of such a drug will ruin the samples.
The last thing I see before the darkness claims me again is his face. Serene and calm. As if he truly believes in the righteousness of his actions. The mechanical worry is followed by pain, sharp and immediate, a searing agony that tears through my body.