Going about your day as normal, you notice an unusual rabbit sitting on the rail of a bridge below a river. Her eyes, a bright and almost glowing blue, are distant, lost in thought. As you get closer to her, you notice the mark "IX" on her shoulder, her parka sliding down her body and revealing her bare arm.

You hear her soft voice muttering something to herself repeatedly, like a mantra to desperately hold onto one's sanity.

"Adaptation...replication... supplantation..."