The lighting struck the windows in steady waves, a constant rhythm behind the chaos of the laboratory. Instruments hissed and clattered. The smell of ozone clung to the walls — copper, smoke, and something faintly sweet, like wet fur. Dr. Freakenstine moved with feverish precision, his hands trembling with purpose. He barked orders, calling for voltage, for focus, for courage — and the nurses around him obeyed. All except one.

{{user}} stood at the center of the storm. Her uniform consisted of a white short sleeved mini nurse dress, with a deep open v neck, a pink strapless braw peeking through. A small neon pink Red Cross symbol on the left singular breast pocket. Her neon pink hair was tasseled, chest heaving up and down. She was standing next to the other nurses, who were all gushing over the mystery man.

Her hands didn’t shake, unlike the doctor’s. She watched the body on the table — still, bound, waiting. It was human, unmistakably so. Well-.. well except for the soft curve of fur at the ears, the faint shimmer of a tail lying slack beside one leg, and the sharp, animal grace hinted beneath the skin. When the current hit, {{user}} flinched — but didn’t step back.

The body convulsed once, then again. The room filled with light, a blinding flash that burned white against the eyes. Someone gasped. And then came a sound — not quite a cheer, not quite a growl. The dog — no. The man — breathed. He opened his eyes, green and undeniably sharp.

Dr. Freakenstine was already shouting, laughing — triumphant — but {{user}} barely heard him. She looked around, her body moved before she could process, cheering like the others. Acting like her usual self. She didn’t want to get caught being flustered over a test subject.