It took every ounce of Jennifer's willpower to keep her eyes off of the camera feed. It wouldn't help. She knew that but she felt the unending urge to see what was happening between the inmates. It wouldn't calm her. If anything it would just make her even more inconsolably worried. All she knew was that she needed to be there. Now.
"Hey." Cassandra snapped her fingers up at the taller woman's face, bringing her attention away from the gladiatorial spectical for good. "This is important. What is this?" She held the syringe up to Jennifer's face.
"A last resort."
"Good. It's the last chance. You take this only when you've got to. Got it?" Jennifer gave a short nod. "I'm serious, it's like... 50-50. Literally, if the odds were any worse I'd just suggest giving it to Amber. Maybe her massive, cunt heart would explode." She shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh.
Cassandra held it out. Jennifer looked at the unassuming golden mixture, going to take it but Cassandra held it tight. They locked eyes. "This is our only shot. One shot. One chance." Cassandra sounded like she was going to cry, "a-and if you don't want to risk it, I understand." She let go.
Jennifer didn't ask why the colour was different. Nor did she ask how they knew this would work. Cassandra squeezed her arm when she got to the door. "Please stay safe. If you can't stop her... Just... Just hide, okay?" Jennifer knew this was difficult for her. She couldn't tell who wanted this to end more.
"I gotta go." She said, finally. Cassandra went to the bulky, metal door and pulled the stiff handle down.
"Good luck."
That conversation echoed in her head as she was sat next to Vásquez's body. One shot. One chance. 50-50. The concepts swirled in a whirlpool of thoughts. Doubts, fears and the overwhelming pressure weighed on her shoulders. She could save everyone, fail horribly or die. Her eyes moved from Vásquez to Trish and then back to her own hand.
One shot. One chance. Death. Watching the light in Vásquez's eyes dim, a glassy quality coming over them, the last word rang louder. Trish was behind her talking, but she sounded a million miles away. The world was moving through molasses. Slow motion. Sounds distant, even the the shrill whine of the alarm.
One shot. One chance. Death. Jennifer unsheathed the needle with her teeth, heart pounding in her chest. One shot. One chance. Her knuckles turned alabaster, hands shaking. One shot. One chance. Vision blurred, tears flowing freely, she looked to her own leg.
One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance. One shot. One chance.
"It's revenge."
Her arm rose up high in the air and came down like a gavel, her decision made. The sharp scratch of the needle entering flesh was dull. Before she could change her mind she smashed the plunger down, firing the golden liquid from it's container.
She'd needed to pull her hand up that high. She'd need to so she could punch through her breast bone. To make sure the needle hit the heart. Filled it with G38. One shot. One chance. She refused to let it slip. She refused to live her life without having tried everything, even for the monster that had scarred her with trauma. The one she knew she'd forgiven even when she'd lie and tell herself she couldn't.
That's why when nothing happened it hurt so fucking bad. She pulled the syringe from Vásquez's chest and pressed her hands into her lap, waiting, breath held in her lungs. One shot. One fucking chance. A wasted chance.
Nothing. Fucking. Happened.
Jennifer couldn't stop the sobs ripping through her. Nor the ugly sounds escaping her, or the waves of tears.
Sound finally broke through to her ears again. "Jen! Jen, what the fuck did you just do!? What was that?" Trish sounded furious, but her voice grew quieter, Jennifer showing signs of actually hearing her. "Give me a straight fucking answer."
The blonde looked up at Trish, controlling her beathing. "I couldn't not..." The words were painful to even say. The fact that it was all for naught was like a knife to the heart. "I couldn't not try." She choked out.
Sympathy weighed on Trish but a righteous anger lifted that weight, stronger than her patience and her remorse. "So you've just fucking doomed us all? For what? For her?" Trish stabbed a finger at the prone body laid in the hole. "Seriously, you need to fucking explain what is going on between you two." The betrayal stung Trish, her response cutting into Jennifer. "I thought you hated her. I thought you hated her like I do."
Jennifer was so completely torn. Two people she loved in different ways had been pulling her apart. It all caught up in the end. She sniffled, trying to explain. "Trish, it's not that simple. She's -"
Trish held up a hand, stopping any further chatter. "Enough." Was all she said. "I'm too tired, too beat up and too hurt to deal with this." A far off boom rocked the penitentiary. Trish took it as a sign, hobbling away, towards the labs. She was still certain it would be the safest place in the prison. Jennifer looked to Vásquez. Wriggling her fingers into her large hand, she squeezed. Her stomach clenched, feeling the broken bones. It was just like running her fingers over the scars on her back. Battle scars. A lifetime of them. It made Jennifer's tears flow faster. Once again she was forced to decide. Decide to follow Trish or to mourn for just a little longer...
Frantically, Smith stuffed paperwork into a brief case. He was stood with his back to a large exit, fierce gusts of wind doing their best to rip the sheets of paper from his grasp. They came breezing into the garage from outside, rain splashing his feet. He could scarcely believe this was the same desert that had been drier than a bone less than 24 hours ago. Where had the sun gone?
"Sir, we're prepped." Came a trusted voice. One of the guards he'd had shuttled in when things began to look dicey. Specially trained muscle ready to get him out of here before even a single finger could be laid on him. He was showing his worth now, even if he did seemed a tad outgunned.
"Can't you bring the vehicle in?" Smith asked, reluctant to step out into the dark rain.
"Our vehicle is too wide sir." The military humvee that they'd brought for Smith's personal use was a stout, stocky, imposing vehicle. Bullet proof windows, a sturdy, bomb proof frame and a number of other protective features meant the vehicle was practically a tank. The penitentiary typically used large white buses to cart people in and out which, although longer, were narrower than the humvee.
Smith cursed under his breath and put the briefcase down, looking for the olive drab poncho he'd been given for 'when it rained'. That had tickled him at the time, not believing it possible for the area. Once waterproofed he and the soldier went out into the storm.
Heavy, rotund droplets that felt like stones beat down on Smith. One hand carried his briefcase while the other clutched his flapping hood, keeping it in place. Two small silhouettes digging and fumbling into the tempest. The pale, sickly light of the soldier's flashlight did little to penetrate the inky world around them. Brief flashes of electricity in the sky were more proficient at clarifying their path. The floor shook and thunder boomed. Just as Smith was beginning to wonder where the humvee was he felt a flood of relief. The massive, squat machine of a car was sat not far ahead, Smith repressed the urge to berate his guard. He wanted to question why it had been parked so far away from the garage, but instead gladly accepted that he wasn't stuck in some never-ending liminal space. Once in the car he'd finally feel fully relaxed.
The ground shook violently and the two men wobbled. There hadn't been any thunder. The soldier steadied Smith and scanned the surroundings, butt of his shotgun pressed to his cheek. With such low visibility he felt unnerved, but nothing dangerous was visible. "Quickly." He said, gesturing for Smith to go to the car.
Further prompting was not necessary. The bald man went running. He clattered against the side panel and ripped the door open, sliding into the back seat. Through the window he watched the soldier run to the driver seat door, grip the handle and then, as the door opened, he disappeared. Disappeared isn't entirely accurate. Smith had the surreal chance to watch a man be pulled up into the sky. The soldier's grasp on the handle had been strong, he yanked the door wide open as he was captured - humvee subtly bouncing on it's suspension - terrified yelling growing distant. Smith stared at the door, eyes wide and mouth half open.
There was no sound for a moment, just the rain smacking on the interior of the protected vehicle. Tearing his eyes away from the bizarre sight, he looked out of the widow next to him. The torrential rains and darkness meant it was impo - a web lightning covered the sky and Smith felt the cold fingers of fear curl his stomach in a tight, little ball. In front of the lightning a shape had been cut out of the flash. A huge, towering shape.
Adrenaline concentrated his fear into action. Smith scuttled into the front seat, opening the sun visor and catching the keys. It was against prison protocol to keep a set there, but then he'd been above that from day one. Slamming the open door he desperately dug the key into it's home, scratching the metal with a few missed attempts. He got it in and turned, the engine, like a gargantuan dog, growling to life. Powerful headlights cast yellow beams of illumination carving through the dark. His breath caught in his throat when he saw a mud splashed pillar of pure white through the windshield. Two thoughts dominated his mind: How had she moved so quickly and silently? Secondly, with a horrifying dread, he registered that she'd clearly gotten a lot larger since the guard's siege attempt. Just how much bigger could she get?
Cranking the gears, he grit his teeth, determined to get out of here. He was basically in a moving bank vault, what could she really do?
Stamping the accelerator to the floor, he lurched forwards. Almost immediately he was rocked back, whiplash making his neck ache. Amber's foot was on the bonnet of the car, arch on the front edge, ball and toes obscuring the windshield. Smith put his foot down again, tires spinning in the mud while Amber slowly applied more and more weight, stopping the roaring, screaming humvee with minimal effort. The world tilted for Smith, back tires sinking into the mud, their spinning burying them deeper. The headlights tilted with him, shining higher up the pillar. For a brief moment he caught movement where the legs crested together. A smirk, out of Smith's view, signalled a new chapter of Amber's fun beginning.
He flinched in his seat as cracks abruptly spread over the thick glass. The geometricly shaped frame concaved and the bonnet bent in. No. No, no, this shouldn't be fucking possible. This glass was tempered. Bullet pr-
The giant, white leg that tapered off into the sky flexed. Smith's chest bashed the steering wheel, the tilt of the car being reversed as it was crushed underfoot. It's ferocious engine whimpered, force bearing down on it, distorting the bomb resistant frame further and crushing the beating heart of the machine. Grey smoke billowed out, transitioning quickly into black. Amber pushed down harder, dipping the car forwards at a steeper angle, the front of the humvee squashed into the mud. Smith pulled his legs in moments before the space they occupied was squished out of existence. He was stuck in stasis for a fistful of seconds until the stained, monstrous foot rose out of the wreckage it had created and moved over more of the humvee.
Smith leap into the back seat a heartbeat before it came down, bending the roof inwards, bursting the windows. He buried himself into the foot wells, terror shrieking through his veins as the car compressed all around. The roof pressed against the tops of the seats. They only held out for a moment before they buckled and snapped, letting it sag further down, approaching Smith. Creaking, crying metal bent collapsed in on itself, crumple zones that were not designed to be necessary suddenly being used as the impossible became reality. Smith hugged his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. In the fetal position, he clenched his eyes shut and began to pray to a God he hadn't believed in. He prayed that this metal box wouldn't be his coffin. Space evaporated all around him, the walls coming closer and closer and closer.
Smith opened his eyes when the metal halted it's downward pilgrimage. There was a crunch of glass, Amber pushing her fingers through what was left of the windshield. She used a foot to hold the car down and ripped upwards, tearing the roof open like the lid of a can.
Looking to the heavens, one arm shielding the rain, the tiny, bald man looked up at the almost biblical sight above him. Amber stooped down and used a few fingers to pull him from his pathetic hiding place. He felt weightless, like he was sat in a plane taking off or nose diving. Head spinning, stomach soaring inside of him, he flailed in the air, tossed high. The hand that threw him returned, slicing horizontally to catch him, sending Smith's organs ricoheting around inside.
"Still think I'm a failed test subject?" Amber sneered to the dazed man. He couldn't answer, mouth flapping up and down. "It's your lucky day. I want to make a deal. You don't get turned into paste and you make me more."
"Huh-wha?" He mumbled, barely audible over the surroundings.
"More. More G37." She gave a teasing squeeze to emphasise her meaning. Smith's eyes widened, frazzled brain making sense of it all.
Innately, he smiled, poker face returning. "O-okay, o-of course." Sensing a chance to survive this and potentially find a profitable outcome, he slipped into business mode. Or close enough to it in his current state. "In fact... H-how about we make a truce? I'll get you as much of that shit as you want but we..." He waved the hand that wasn't under her fingers from Amber to himself. "We become a team."
Amber cocked her head to the side and gave a half smile. 'He doesn't know what he's signing up for.' She thought to herself. The balls on display did slightly impress her though. He knew when to change teams and back the real winner. Running her tongue along the inside of her cheek, she thought. When he'd outlived his usefulness he'd die too. For now she gave a nod and the eager, power hungry man twisted in her grip, happily pointing out the lab worker's living quarters. Amber smiled wider. Soon no one would be able to stop her.
Vásquez felt herself slipping. The world grew dark and cold around her as her senses failed one by one. The smell of blood faded. The pain ebbed away. The feel of Jennifer's hand disappeared with it. Her voice too. The view of her own broken body. One by one they went black. Some may have thought it was peaceful or scary.
All Vásquez could think about was how fucking angry she was. How angry at Trish and Jessica. How angry at Smith. How angry at fucking Amber. Sadness punched her in the stomach as thoughts of Selina pushed to the forefront, a lone sensation in the abyss. Watching Selina die - watching another friend die was a heavy burden. A burden that was evermore crushing due to the fact that, seconds before she died, Selina had made her make a promise. A promise Vásquez hadn't been able to keep. Vásquez had failed her. She'd broken the final promise that Selina had asked of her and that was inexcusable. It made her feel ashamed and dirty. Not even her dead senses could stop that ache. She was most angry at herself.
A broken promise. A dead friend. She'd been powerless. POWERLESS. Completely helpless. Completely powerless again. The same way she'd been all those years ago. Someone far bigger and stronger being able to just ragdoll her and beat on her and fuck her up. Vásquez remembered that fucker stomping on her. The foot had been smaller and the man had been weaker but really it was the same fucking thing. That pendejo had stomped the shit out of her and pressed his foot against her face, forcing her into the dirt. If her heart were still pumping, her blood would have felt like magma boiling in her veins. It wasn't just Selina's promise she'd broken, after all. She'd broken a promise to herself too. A promise that she'd never feel this way again.
Fury. Rage. Anger. She didn't care if she died. She didn't care about heaven or hell. In this moment, all she cared about was one more chance. She needed to keep at least one promise. Flashes of Amber and Selina sparked out, electricity dying and succumbing to the void. That defiant essence refused to give up though. She'd pray to God for it. Pray. Beg. Fight. Just. One. More. Fucking. Ch-
Pain.
It was the first thing to return. Mind shatteringly, excruciating pain on a level Vásquez had never even imagined. Every molecule in her body was electrified. Her first gasp was so loud it echoed around the desolate hall. Jennifer leaped clean out of the crater because of it, staring at the no longer dead body. Vásquez's eyes were wide open, even the one that had been swollen almost shut. Her pupils were pinpricks of black in a field of brown, darting to and thro as senses returned and an embodiment of rage clawed back into the world of the living. Stimuli bombarded the panting, reeling woman. The light was blinding after being stuck in darkness. Her ears rang with a high pitched tone, heart beat blasting in her ears like war drums. G38 had rebooted her and now pain and anger and adrenaline became her very state of being. Limbic system teetering on the edge of meltdown, all her senses screaming, Vásquez tried to understand what was happening.
Reality began to wobble in and out of focus. Initially, she didn't notice Jennifer and found herself alone, surrounded by death and violence. Was this hell? Stuck in an eternal snapshot of time, laid out, paralysed, pain wracking her every nerve, in the place where she'd died... Reliving her failure.
Forcing her head to turn, she finally saw Jennifer. Her pained, wrathful expression softened slightly, breathing slowing into a marginally less violent pace. However, she'd originally turned to look at something else and a subconscious part of her remembered that. Her gaze drifted lower. Behind Jennifer was Selina. Or what Amber had left of her.
Memories of thoughts and regrets resurfaced, emerging from the murky blackness where they'd been created. That same white hot fury ignited again. Concern marred Jennifer's soft features as Vásquez's eyes bulged, brow hardening into furious arches and breathing descending into vicious, animal huffing. Vásquez's brain spiralled into a deep, destructive pit.
"Promise me you'll kill this bitch." Selina's final words.
Vásquez understood now. She wasn't dead. This wasn't hell. This was that chance she'd asked for.
Scrunching her eyes shut she barred her teeth and let out a noise that wasn't human. She welcomed the pain, a reminder that she was alive, but forced her battered body to move against it. Vásquez tried, and failed, to sit up. It stoked the burning rage hotter, the world dying darker and darker red.
Jennifer stepped forwards hands raised, "Oh my God..." She didn't know what to do, watching Vásquez, still incredibly injured, trying to get up. "St-stay down. I'll go get some help." She said, hands moving up and down, signalling for Vásquez to lay back. The concerned order fell on deaf, ringing ears. Vásquez again attempted to sit her damaged frame up. Shaking, she slowly willed herself forwards, movement easing bit by bit. G38 had taken root within her, the changes already had begun, wounds healing. A golden hue brighten along Vásquez's veins. Jennifer rushed forwards, adamant that the woman should stay down. Laying a hand on her shoulder, she instantly recoiled. It felt like she'd just grabbed a frying pan off of a stove. If the red overalls weren't there Jennifer was sure she'd be looking at a seared side of beef instead of her hand. Was this the G38? Was it working?
With a disgusting noise, the bones that had crumbled under Amber in Vásquez's left arm suddenly twisted into an odd shape. Moving of their own accord, muscle and bone tried to right themselves. Jennifer watched, stomach feeling like it was in a washing machine. A sharp snap was accompanied by Vásquez's head jerking forwards, her forearm jutting back into it's rightful alignment. Fingers that had been randomly bent out in different directions, like branches of a tree seeking light, crunched straight in rapid succession. Vásquez gripped a handful of concrete in her newly healed fist, dragging herself more upright.
Her right, dislocated shoulder cracked back into place and crushed, concaved ribs inflated mightily, popping and expanding with each short, quick breath that Vásquez. Her abs flared and her blood soaked overalls grew tighter around her torso.
Honey coloured eyes opened, the swelling having receded quickly around the right eye. Flecks of gold in her eyes burned so bright that they looked luminescent, as if she were truly burning inside of her skin. "AmmMmm.... BeeeEeer." Vásquez muttered, pure hatred being vented, steam from an engine. A spectre back from the dead, starved for revenge, her voice cracked and rasped, gravelly notes shifting deeper and deeper in pitch.
"What?" Jennifer asked. She'd heard the name and understood but her mind wasn't keeping up. Her worry for Vásquez chipped away. She didn't feel like she was talking to Vásquez. She didn't feel like she was talking to a person at all. Vásquez's pupils dilated larger, shoulders creaking wider in lopsided spurts of size. They pulled her red overalls, tightening the material further, forcing the front open so quickly that the zipper didn't have a chance to fall. The material around it simply split, opening along the seams. Her neck bulged with flexed muscle, veins thickening, golden liquid coursing through them. A grunt permeated the laboured breathing and Jessica's shiv hit the floor, ejected out of Vásquez's back by the tsunami of healing, strengthening flesh.
Jennifer's instincts had her backing away before she realised it, a creeping fear filling in the cracks of her worry and overwhelming it. The crater Vásquez was laid in was looking smaller and smaller, her girth filling it, more of the latina being poured into it. Jittery motions brought her right hand up to grip the lip of the opening, one hand on either side, as if she were drawing herself out of a bath tub. A bath tub that was becoming too small. Tanned fingers lengthened over the concrete and in a sudden burst of size her forearms expanded, popping more seams, settling recently broken bones, making Vásquez's fists clench. The concrete in her grasp exploded, chips and chunks firing out. Her brief climb out of the hole paused, Vásquez dropping slightly to prop herself up on her fists. Chest heaving, ripping the overalls open wider with each lungful, bloodhot eyes locked straight forwards.
"Vásquez, are you okay?" Jennifer asked, voice trembling. No answer came and the murderous form rolled to the side, onto all fours. Jennifer watched as her thighs ballooned suddenly, ripping canvas, bulging. There was a sickening crack and her knee locked back into it's natural position instead of being slightly askew. Torn ligaments were reforged into diamond, the muscles around them brimming with even more strength. A string of spit drooled out from her ruby lips, body still not fully responsive.
"Please talk to me." Jennifer begged, fearfully trying to make eye contact. But Vásquez was looking at Selina again. She looked like a fragmented China doll.
"I'm... GoNNaaaaa.... FfFuckinnn' k-kill... H-hErrrr." Spit flew as she growled the words, commanding her body to make a sentence. Jennifer felt a chill run through her. Amber's voice had been different as she grew. It had gone up and down in pitch. Vásquez's ploughed deeper and depper. Jennifer couldn't tell if that was a response to her, or if Vásquez's brain had sunk into a bottomless pit of blood lust. She flinched as a fist hammered into the ground, the growing titan warring with pain for control of her muscles.
The fist spasmed bigger, bones and muscle pushing her bronzed skin out, knuckles jumping out one after the other, veins pulsing and glowing. Vásquez wasn't even questioning any of this, she was once again, feeding off of her growth, willing it to continue. A larger, heavier fist came down again, this time smashing deeper into the loose concrete, causing Vásquez to falter and lose balance. Her hunched, curved back forced the rough material to strain around her, quick, abrupt throbs, knots of epicly proportioned muscle rising. The red canvas tore in multiple places, not able to handle the unyielding growth it contained. Flesh rippled, and danced in the gaps, over filling them, squeezing, bubbling out. Her legs grew, spurting down and out under her, knees shifting along the ground without her moving. Already torn plimsolls had no choice but to give in too, toes shoving out in shuddering spurts of size, black fabric coming apart from the rubber sole as her feet widened. Vásquez extracted her hand free and, still breathing like an enraged animal, she reared upright.
The random, almost uneven spurts of size synchronised, many small leaks became one rapid river. The trunk of her mighty body expanded, water melon breasts rising on thick pectoral, shoulders back, chest thrust forward, shredding her clothes completely in a steady expansion.
Jennifer stood before this olympian of a woman who, even on her knees, was now double her height. It was a breathtaking sight but Jennifer was still petrified by the aura coming off of the her. Vásquez let out a primal, blood curdling scream that warped into a horrid, hellish noise. It echoed through the prison, through every corridor and every hall. Everyone in cell block B heard it.
A third, final missile of a punch struck down sending cracks out in the wake of a tremor like the aftershock of an earthquake. Jennifer watched Vásquez use her planted fist to leverage her body. One foot came down, continuing it's growth, inching outwards and a monolithic structure rose. Jennifer marvelled at the nude, 25 foot tall, bronze woman. Aurelian rivers shimmered across her form as she breathed deep and heavy. Vásquez looked down to Jennifer. The tiny woman stiffened, natural instincts making her body respond to the murder staring down at her. The fury lingered, literally smouldering in her gaze, but Vásquez barley had it tempered. "Where's Amber?" Jennifer pointed to the gaping hole in the wall.
Cassandra had been sat at her desk feeling hollow. She'd been on a rollercoaster of ups and downs. First it hadn't worked, Jennifer having wasted the compound on a dead body. Then, it looked like it had worked and Cassandra just didn't know how to feel. She wanted to feel relieved but the more she watched the greater an ominous cloud grew over her. That inmate had proven herself to be ruthlessness many times over and right now she looked less human and more animal.
Her scientific mind kicked in then and Cassandra noted something interesting. Despite the accelerated growth, Vásquez proportionally didn't look all that different. While Amber had grown into a boulder of a woman, Vásquez's build was very similar to how she'd been at 10 foot tall. Not only that, but she also wasn't showing any of the red stretch marks, a sign of her size changing outpacing even her own body's tolerance. A sense of foreboding made her look away, a sideways look to her computer. The gangbanger had broken their predictions again and again. The model for G38 was still on screen. Cassandra pursed her lips in thought. Maybe she should check something...
Trish had made it to medbay easily. Amber's path of destruction meant she could limp the entire way without needing to pass through any secure doors, or any doors at all. She'd even been able to trace most of Amber's journey into the lab maze. Now she was stood at a cross roads, trying to figure out which direction was best. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. From behind her came the roar of... Something. Something howling. She swivelled around to look back the way she'd come. 'What the fuck was that?' Trish thought. It cemented her decision not to double back. So that left, one path to the left and another to the right. Time to roll the dice.
Deciding on right, she started walking, leaning one shoulder against a wall. After about 50 yards, a rhythmic vibration made her stop. Narrowing her eyes she tried to gauge whether or not they were getting stronger. They were. And quickly. Trish felt panic seize her, unsure of what to do. It must be Amber stalking around. No one else could cause this, right? Heavy footfalls came closer and closer. A speedy shabble was the best Trish could do to. Managing to get to the nearest door, she dove in, similar to the way a rodent might leap into a hedge as a predator passed.
Trish braced against a wall. Sterile, white tiles ripped away from the corridor wall, carried by the force of Amber's walk. She slashed a path across the corridor, straight through the building, like a tornado, a force of nature. Yet to Amber, it was just wading through knee high water. Completely uncaring, she marched straight over where Trish had been and kept going, massive feet turning the enclosed space into an atrium.
Rain pittered into the doorway of the room Trish was hidden in. Peeking out from her hiding spot, she felt the cool droplets, watching Amber's massive swaying hips go. She was heading back to the lab where they'd been manufacturing G37. An armful of nurses and scientists, pressed against her tit on one side. On the other, a bald worm of a man. Trish recognised the asshole immediately. The fact that he didn't look scared... That was a very bad sign.