Endelia woke up on the floor of a cold, bare cell. She remembered running through the woods, knowing nothing but the urge to escape, run far, far away, and feeling the burden of twenty-two years of laboratory grown fear, pain, and hate. The genetic research center of her birthplace was gone, demolished. Endelia had killed them all, every last vile human. And then the authorities were after her. They had chased her down, sedated her, then dragged her off to this place she was now in. Endelia curled her lip at the sight, and the smell. She gave a hiss. How degrading.