She floats. At least that's what she feels; light body, numb limbs and fleeting thoughts.

"Hello dear Sara."

The voice of a man rushes into her head and digs in her memories to tear painfully images from the depths of her mind, images that she did not want to see again.

"I'm Dr. Rice."

At this name, her eyelids quiver, the effort she must provide to open them seems considerable, and in doing so, her body seems more and more heavy. The man in front of her, whose features are still fuzzy, is wearing a white coat. But by the time her senses come back to her a little, she already remembers that name.

"Gently dear, you have been sedated for several days ..."

"Where ..." she manages to mumble in a rocky voice, her dry throat feels so raw. "Where is he ..." she breathes again, grimacing.
"It doesn't matter" Rice cuts, "what matters is you Sara, and what you are able to do. I tried to reproduce your transformation but it seems that you have to be aware ... "continues the doctor.

"PIERCE" she finally manages to growl with an angry look, annoyed by Rice's insistence to ignore it.

The man freezes, a satisfied pout on the face, then gets up and goes away a few seconds, leaving the field of vision of the beast. She looks at the objects around her, machines connected to her arm with screens that beep to the rhythm of her heart rate, pockets of translucent liquid and medical equipment but she does not recognize the walls, nor the smells nor the sounds, she does not feel either the temperature of the room or the slightest movement in her body.

The man comes back with a tablet on which is placed a black screen that he slides in front of the face of the beast.

"What do you remember Sara, do you know how you got here?" Rice asks.

The beast searches her memory, realizing that she has no idea where she is, how she got there and, above all, how this man knows that name he keeps saying. And why is not Pierce here? She does not smell him, neither around her nor on her. Yet the last thing she remembers is him; his hands on her, his skin against hers, his lips on hers. Once the wolves had left, finally sure of their victory against the strange animal who covets the same prey as they, he had found her.

She remembers his steel blue eyes, greedy and urgent, when he tore her blouse from top to bottom, to touch and to taste her, with the savagery that he only knew when in contact with the beast. While his bestiality increased as their caresses and kisses grew, she had never felt as human as at that moment.

He had taken her again, without regard for her wounds, shedding blood on their bodies with his hands of flesh and metal that she no longer tried to differentiate. Without more sweetness than before but this time she was ready, she had welcomed the burn between her legs with impatience and relief. She had stripped him and tore off the bandage on his chest that covered his wounds, she had licked the blood that was oozing, he had a strong, powerful taste. He had clutched her back so hard that his fingers seemed to print on her skin.

Sitting on her knees, her hands lost in her blonde hair, she had hugged him hard, burying her face in her neck, when her belly contracted, creating a shudder that waved and then swelled to finally explode and scatter everywhere inside. But she had not explained these sensations unknown until then, she had only felt complete for the first time in her life.

Sitting on his thighs, her hands lost in his blonde hair, she had hugged him tightly. Wrapping her legs around his back, burying his face in her neck and against her chest as he lifted her, he had sank into her, loudly moaning until their bellies contracted, creating a shudder inside her that had waved, then swelled to finally explode and scatter everywhere inside. She had not tried to understand, she only knew that she had felt complete for the first time in her life.

She remembers it. By reliving this moment she can almost feel the texture of his skin again.
Then it's dark. Rice seems to understand at her frowning that her memory is lacking and turns on the screen.

The image on the screen flickers a little, but it is the jerkiness of the filmer who is the cause. Her eyes try to make the point, she distinguishes trees and recognizes the characteristic light of the place. It's at her place. The image comes to a standstill and zooms into an extended form on the ground. Two men approach, those of Pierce to believe their outfits and their mechanical members, and tend two poles with a collar at their end that they tighten around the extended form. When the latter moves and raises the head, the beast freezes on her seat, understanding that it is her.

She sees herself searching frantically around her, her naked body stained with dried blood unveiled through the torn blouse, while the men shout "Hold it!"

She's looking for Pierce, she understands it at the panicked look that the camera is filming in close up. She pays no attention to the men who end up brutally tightening the collars around her neck to pull her back, causing her to fall to the ground, and then drag her as she struggles vociferously, trying to pull the cables that strangle her.

The men who hold her start to run through the trees, the ones around them follow them, their weapons unsheathed, and they laugh at her screams. She only sees their backs on the screen, the cameraman has not gone nearer but he laughs too, he comments "This thing is hysterical!"

Then the laughter suddenly stops. "What is happening ?" blows the man at the camera, moving slowly. The men are silent and motionless, they exchange looks and then look away, where her attackers are, when a cry resounds, like a roar, an animal scream that echoes all around them and that she cannot identify in front of the screen.

The image starts bouncing again, still filming the men running in front. By joining them, one sees only the ground while the men swear in a tight voice.

"Oh damn ..." nervously blows the cameraman while straightening his camera. The man steps back while zooming. The image still flickers but this time it is the trembling hand of the cameraman who is the cause. It shows a creature that breaks the poles that held it and jumps on the chest of one of the attackers and plants there its long claws. The man's screams only stop when his face disappears in a sheaf of blood, carried by a new blow of claws, before his body collapses on the ground.

The enlargement does not allow to see sharp outlines but the beast knows that it is still her, she cannot explain it but she recognizes herself in this being. Her fangs are prominent and her skin is darker, almost black, but especially, her eyes are larger, incandescent yellow, and the look she has on the men around her is fierce and ruthless.

She grunts as if her throat could not produce any other sound, let alone articulate words, and she attacks each man in turn who could not get away in time, cutting off their limbs and tearing out their throats with her jaw without others reacting, petrified by the spectacle before them. Her skin is so dark that the wounds caused by the wolves are not visible on her arms and belly, but she glows, made shiny by the fresh blood that springs from her victims, although only the rags of the reddened blouse really testify to the relentlessness she shows towards her preys. She has nothing human anymore.

The beast does not notice the tears her clawed fingers made in the padding of the seat, her fists clenched at the bleached knuckles, nor the beeps that accelerate to the rhythm of the beating of her heart that knocks harder in her chest. What she sees is Pierce's abandonment, absence, betrayal. How this man manages to provoke feelings so extreme, so exacerbated, it exceeds her understanding. She has gone from fury to submission, from fear to passion, from fullness to chaos. This creature on the screen both fascinates and frightens her. Guided by rage, she abandoned all conscious thought, all desire for restraint, all humanity. She is exactly as men have always considered her, as he no doubt considers her; an animal without soul.

The men in the picture begin to waver seeing the beast now turn to them.
"Fucking kill her!" shouts one of them to his colleague who is clumsily trying to grab his pistol from his belt. As he points it toward the mutant who runs towards them, the camera wobbles as the wearer begins to recoil, when a voice sounds behind him.

"STOP!"

A slight metallic snap echoed at his word. The beast is still heading towards them, right on the screen, but she seems to slow down, then stops and carries a hand to her belly to pick up a dart ended by a yellow feather duster that drops on the ground. Her head wobbles, then her whole body, before collapsing on the floor like a disjointed puppet.

The mercenaries sigh and swear at the same time as they look at the man who enters the field of the camera and hands his rifle to one of them without a word.

The beast holds her breath and her jaw tightens. Here he is finally, Pierce. His face remains turned towards the creature lying on the ground. Its skin gradually clears as he moves toward it and kneels. She does not see his face; she can only see in his blonde hair in battle the traces of their antics. But this thought does not soften her. He holds out an arm but she does not see that he tries to cover her chest with the strips of fabric of what was once a blouse.

"Turn off the camera," he orders dryly without looking back. And the screen becomes black again.

Her throat is dry when she wants to scream. A tingle rises from her nose to her eyes but the rage is too great to let the sadness prevail. Her neck suddenly stiffens and her heart races, the machine beeps almost like an alarm while the oscilloscope struggles to trace the curves more and more closely spaced on the small screen.

Rice has not stopped watching her, a smile on his face and a hand on a box that controls the rate of perfusion in her arm. He presses one of the buttons several times at the sight of the jaw of the beast that stretches out and to her possessed look. The mutant, without even noticing it, relaxes, then goes back to sleep in the second.

Rice is satisfied. He now knows for sure which buttons to press.