[h2][color=lightpink]Sherry Birkin[/color][/h2][hr]
Sherry’s stomach dropped before her mind had even consciously processed what she was looking at. For a moment she was twelve years old again, frozen to the spot, staring at the thing before her as she tried to reconcile it with the man she knew as her father. [i]Golgotha… [b]the G-virus[/b]. So this man…[/i]

But he couldn’t be, could he? The virus had never been ‘perfected’. Between listening to the researchers who had poked and prodded at her over the years, and information afforded to her by her work now, she was the closest thing to what her father had envisioned the virus to be.

She couldn’t remember sitting herself down on the ground, but there she was, her brow furrowed, mouth hanging open in shock. “I… no. I cannot transform,” she answered finally.