The time for experimentation was over; this was no trial, but a calculated transgression against your cellular makeup. Moira's gaze lingered on your form - battered, bloodied, and the solution that was far beyond the reach of conventional medicine. Her decision came quickly, almost eagerly, as she activated the failsafe she had engineered for such a moment. She recalled the twisted triumph of Reyes’ agonizing transformation and, with the serum she had since refined to warp the very foundation of genetic code, she saw a way to pull you back from the darkness beyond. And cost would be great.

There was no anesthetic — she had dismissed it outright, unwilling to risk anything that might disrupt the serum’s brutal efficacy. You felt everything. Every blistering wave of agony as the serum akin to molten rock coursed through your veins, its volatile essence clawing at muscles, nerves, and skin alike.

Moira observed from the shadows, her lips curving into a faint, fleeting smile before her palm swept it away. She leaned closer, her voice clinical but tinged with an undercurrent of twisted satisfaction.

"You will be renewed," she declared. "If ever you had any shred of will — any desire to fight, to survive — now is the time to summon it."