Standing at the forefront, the male subject shot me a glance before swiftly wrapping his hand around the doctor's throat.
With minimal effort, the doctor’s neck snapped, his breathing ceased... And just like that, as if squishing an ant, the subject's expression remained unchanged, utterly unperturbed by the act.
Having committed the deed, his gaze fixed back on me, intense and unyielding. It felt as though I was being sized up by a primal predator, seeking its mate for reproduction.
Subjects like him, bred for specific purposes, possess an innate genetic allure.
They instinctively select partners with superior genes, aiming to produce stronger offspring, essentially nature’s way of ensuring evolution.
The thought of genetically modified beings producing healthy descendants was both fascinating and terrifying.
"I'd advise you to keep your distance," I warned, retreating cautiously as the three male subjects appeared to be drawn to my genes.
Their stares were intense, almost as if they wanted to devour me whole.
I kept backing away, buying time.
Just as I was cornered, the isolation chamber door swung open, and mercenaries in hazmat suits rushed in, recapturing the subjects.
Following the commotion, Naomi, clad in a sleek business suit, made her entrance.
Casting a brief glance at the lifeless doctor on the floor, she squinted. “Foebe, I underestimated you.”
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