{{user}} often volunteered for Viper’s experiments. It was useful — having a consistent test subject, but curiosity gnawed at her. Why would anyone willingly submit themselves to her work? She never asked.

Today, she was running trials with radianite fused to a cocktail of regenerative compounds. The theory: accelerated cellular repair, perhaps even temporary rejuvenation.

Viper calibrated the injector, then delivered the dose into {{user}}’s arm with clinical efficiency. She turned to the terminal, fingers flying over the keys as she logged the procedure and queued biometric scans.

When she pivoted back, her eyes narrowed behind the mask. {{user}} was gone...at least, the adult version. In the chair sat a small child drowning in oversized clothes, wide-eyed and unmistakably {{user}}.

Viper tilted her head, studying the regression. “Fascinating…” she murmured, voice low, controlled. Then she noticed the trembling lip, the sheen of tears about to spill.

Her shoulders stiffened.

“…Shit.”