AN: Wow, I feel bad. In more ways that one... I am currently getting over a virus that has threatened to kill me (I was literally asleep for a whole day, muscle aches had me immobile and a fever of almost 103). I've never been that level of sick, so I was out of commission for a whole day, and then I had to make up study time that I missed, as I had an exam today. I'm still not 100%, but no fever or feeling like I just got mowed down by a very large cow, I just feel very germy and have been for the last two weeks. Fun times!

But yes, I'm sorry for the delay, but we're also coming close to the end of the story... I like hearing what you guys have to say about what you think will happen. I want to try and get some more replies out to you all, so let's here 'em! ;)

Anyway, here's the next chapter!

The Resistance: Skillet

Bella had kept count of time the only way she could—by the rigid routine they kept her in. She knew it had been at least two days. Forty-eight hours of the same meals, the same dull routine, the same locked door. They had brought her a cot, but it was little more than a metal frame with a thin, barely-there mattress. No blankets. No pillow. Just a place to collapse when her body finally gave out from exhaustion. Her skin felt grimy with sweat, her clothes stiff from wear. They hadn't let her shower, but maybe that would come later if they thought she was cooperating.

When the door opened again, Bella didn't bother looking up right away. She knew who it was before she saw them—Demetri and the second guard who had been shadowing him. The were the only two guards she'd seen since the first day.

She let out a slow breath and asked the same questions she had every time they entered. "Where are Edward and Alice? My other friends, too?" Her voice was hoarse from disuse, but steady.

Silence.

Bella's jaw tightened. She clenched her fists, fighting the surge of frustration that threatened to boil over. "Are they still alive?" Are any of them still alive? She wanted to get into their face and scream, demand that they answer her, but she knew no good would come of that.

Demetri's expression didn't flicker. The other guard shifted slightly, adjusting the rifle slung across his chest, but said nothing. The lack of response was expected. It was always the same, but it still twisted something inside her, something raw and desperate.

Then Demetri took a step forward and reached for her.

Bella tensed as his rough hand clamped around her upper arm, yanking her to her feet. Pain flared through her shoulder, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She met his cold gaze with a glare, her breath coming through her nose in sharp, controlled bursts.

"We go now," he said.

Bella didn't fight as they led her out of the room.

She walked, and she watched. It wasn't time for a bathroom break, so she can only assumer they were taking her to Victoria.

They took her down a flight of metal stairs. The walls down here were different—reinforced, insulated, sterile in a way that the rest of the facility wasn't. This wasn't just a holding area.

This was where the real work happened.

A door loomed ahead, sealed with another biometric scanner. Demetri pressed his hand against the pad, and with a soft beep, the lock disengaged. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, dragging Bella with him.

The lab was sleek, clinical, filled with the sharp scent of disinfectant and expensive machinery. Rows of workstations lined the space, equipped with fume hoods, centrifuges, and containment chambers. There were glass-walled storage units filled with vials, some glowing faintly under the bright LED lighting. A sealed cabinet labeled BIOHAZARD LEVEL 4 sat prominently against the back wall.

And standing in the center of it all, clad in pristine personal protective equipment, was Victoria.

She turned as they entered, a satisfied smile curving her lips. "Ah," she said, her voice laced with something almost affectionate. "Dr. Swan. Welcome." Her gloved hands gestured toward the pristine lab like an artist presenting their gallery. "Impressive, isn't it?" she mused, her voice rich with satisfaction. "State-of-the-art equipment, world-class containment facilities. Everything you could possibly need to finish what you started."

Bella stood stiffly, her eyes sweeping the room. She was already cataloging everything, weighing options, risks, possibilities. Everything she needed to create a weapon of mass murder.

"This is where the magic happens," Victoria continued smoothly, and Bella had to force an indignant snort down. Magic. That was one way to describe biochemical warfare.

She turned back to Victoria, her voice calm despite the unease roiling inside her. "I assume this isn't just a tour," she said dryly. "You want something."

Victoria smiled, clearly pleased by Bella's quick deduction. "Of course. You'll be working here." She stepped to one of the workstations and tapped a gloved finger against a tablet resting on the steel counter. The screen flickered to life, displaying a complex web of molecular structures. CRISPR-Cas systems, viral vectors, gene-editing sequences—Bella's work, twisted into something unrecognizable.

"You provided the foundation," Victoria quipped. "But there's still work to be done."

Bella crossed her arms over her chest. "What kind of work?"

Victoria turned fully to her now, and the shift in her demeanor was subtle but unmistakable. Less indulgent, more clinical. "Optimization."

Bella's fingers curled against her arms. "Optimization," she echoed.

Victoria nodded, her voice taking on a practiced, almost professorial tone. "The original prototype had weaknesses. Stability issues. Limited shelf life. A lack of dispersal efficiency. We need you to fix that. I have a team of scientists, but they're... a little less than adequate."

Bella's stomach churned. She knew exactly what that meant. They weren't just refining the pathogen—they were making it deadlier, more effective, easier to spread.

She lifted her chin slightly, keeping her expression impassive. "You had working prototypes before," she said. "Why not just continue where you left off?"

Victoria's lips curved into something amused. "Because someone," she said pointedly, "blew them to hell."

Bella swallowed back the bitterness rising in her throat. Good. She'd do it again.

"Fortunately," Victoria continued, returning her gaze to the screen, "we've made some progress with what remained. Your notes were—" she tilted her head, "—incomplete, but useful. My team has reconstructed much of the sequencing, but we're missing critical elements."

Bella stared at the display, bile burning the back of her throat. The fact that they had gotten this far without the prototypes was terrifying. She had hoped that destroying their samples would have set them back months, maybe years. But no—they had been building off her stolen research, and they were already closer than she had feared.

Victoria studied her reaction carefully. "With your help, we can expedite the final stages. We'll pick up where you left off."

Bella lifted an eyebrow. "And if I can't do what you're asking?"

Victoria smiled like she had been expecting the question. "Then we keep pushing until you do. You are very capable, Dr. Swan."

Bella didn't miss the thinly veiled threat. Angela's blood was still fresh in her mind, the horror of that moment playing on an endless loop behind her eyes.

Victoria let the silence stretch for a beat, then turned back toward the tablet. "Regardless, we need results. There's interest in what we're creating here. Global interest. And as much as I'd love to indulge your stubborn streak, neither Aro nor our buyers aren't known for their patience."

Right. They weren't just creating a bioweapon for their own use—they were planning to sell it. Mass production, large-scale distribution. The kind of engineered pathogen that could change the face of modern warfare.

She inhaled through her nose, steadying herself. You can't fight if you don't understand the battlefield. She had to keep her composure. Had to stall. Had to buy time.

So she tilted her head slightly and asked, "What exactly do your buyers want?"

Victoria's eyes gleamed, and Bella knew she had taken the bait. "Oh, Bella," she said, almost fondly. "That's the right question."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice like they were sharing a secret. "Some want subtlety. Targeted mortality—selective, genetic specificity. A pathogen that only affects certain populations. Others want devastation. Fast-acting, high-transmission, mass casualties. And then there are the strategic minds—the ones who want something that lingers, something that leaves behind a world to rule, not just a world in ruins."

Bella's breath caught. Genetic specificity. Targeted bioengineering. She had written about these possibilities in theoretical papers, warned against their potential abuses. She had never imagined that her own work would be used to bring them to life.

Victoria watched her reaction with amusement. "This is what science was always meant to do, Bella. Change the world." Her voice was almost reverent. "We are creating the most powerful instrument of war ever devised."

Bella forced herself to breathe. To think. You need to stall. Keep asking questions. Make her believe you're considering it.

"So what's the timeline?" she asked, her voice level.

Victoria's smile widened. "With you? Weeks, not months."

Bella felt the floor tilt beneath her. Weeks. That was how close they were.

Victoria lifted a brow. "You understand, don't you? Why you're here?" She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to something softer. "We don't need your permission, Bella. Just your mind."

Bella swallowed against the nausea curling in her gut.

"So," Victoria said, clapping her hands together. "Are we ready to begin?"

Bella breathed in deeply as Victoria handed her her own PPE. She pulled on the gloves, feeling the cool synthetic material stretch over her fingers. The weight of the lab coat settled on her shoulders, the familiar scent of disinfectant filling her nose, a cruel echo of her past.

She had spent years in a place like this. Sleek, sterile, controlled. A world where she had once believed science was a force for progress, for healing. Now, standing here, surrounded by stolen research and weapons of devastation, she felt like she was staring at its corpse.

Victoria stood beside her, watching intently, her satisfaction curling in the air like cigarette smoke. "Good," she murmured as Bella finished adjusting her PPE. "Let's get started."

Bella didn't respond. She couldn't. Not without the risk of something sharp and dangerous slipping through her carefully controlled mask.

Instead, she turned her attention to the workstation. Focus. Analyze. Observe.

The tablet flickered as she accessed the files Victoria had pulled up earlier—molecular diagrams, CRISPR-Cas models, genetic schematics. The pieces of a nightmare taking shape before her.

Her own work stared back at her. Twisted, weaponized, perverted.

She inhaled through her nose, pushing back the nausea curling in her stomach. You have time. Use it.

She scrolled through the files, her fingers steady even as her mind screamed at her to burn it all down. Not yet. Play along. Play it smart.

She kept her voice neutral. "You've made progress."

Victoria's smirk widened. "We have." She stepped closer, peering over Bella's shoulder, her presence cloying. "But we've hit… obstacles. We need you to refine the final sequences. Our existing viral chassis has shown degradation in high-temperature environments. That limits dispersal."

Bella didn't look at her. She tilted her head at the screen, scanning the notes, calculations, annotations that weren't hers but still bore the fingerprints of her research. "What have you done to mitigate the issue?"

Victoria hummed, pleased that she was engaging. "We tested several polymerase variants to stabilize replication under thermal duress, but the mutations introduced inconsistencies in host adaptation."

Bella clicked on another tab, her stomach clenching as she read the results of the trials. "You forced RNA fidelity too high," she said automatically, as if she were consulting for a pharmaceutical company rather than standing in the heart of a bioweapons lab. "It makes sense why you lost host compatibility—your mutations disrupted binding efficiency."

Victoria's expression sharpened with something dangerously close to admiration. "Exactly."

Bella fought the urge to recoil.

"You see," Victoria continued, leaning against the counter beside her, "this is why we need you. We can replicate your past work, but we can't need your mind, your instincts."

Bella swallowed against the revulsion rising in her throat. "I just…this—I-I don't know, Victoria. What you're asking for? I can't—"

Victoria sighed, exasperated but not concerned. She gestured toward the cameras lining the corners of the room, the silent guards stationed at the door. "Bella. You can. We still have your friends here, and Aro will have no trouble bringing them to the same fate as Angela." Her voice softened, turning coaxing. "I'd rather not. I'd rather this be… cooperative."

Bella kept her eyes on the screen. Cooperative.

Her hands curled into fists beneath the gloves.

She forced herself to nod, just slightly. Let Victoria believe she was resigned. Let her think she was bending.

Victoria smiled. "Good."

The satisfaction in her voice made Bella's skin crawl.

She turned back to the workstation, breathing deeply, forcing herself into the rhythm of the work—or at least, the illusion of it.

They had given her the tools to destroy them.

She just had to make sure they never saw it coming.

...

The lab was cold, sterile, a tomb waiting for its final occupants. Just one day in this boxed, sterile version of Hell, and Bella had devised a plan.

She moved through the lab purposefully, her hands steady, her mind sharper than it had ever been. Every action she took was deliberate—every adjustment to their formulas, every test she ran. She smiled when Victoria expected it, nodded when Aro spoke, played the part of the scientist willing to turn over and cooperate.

But in the quiet moments—when no one was watching, when her fingers brushed over glass vials and reagent bottles—she was a saboteur.

She had studied every chemical they had, memorized each property, each potential reaction. Victoria wanted her to stabilize the weapon? Bella would make it unstable. She would introduce just enough volatility to turn their lab into a death trap. She would lace this place with quiet destruction, weave the failure into its foundation so that when the time was right, when Aro and Victoria stood in the room with her, it wouldn't be a controlled failure.

It would be an inferno.

She knew it would consume her too.

And she had made her peace with that.

Or so she told herself.

The thought of dying—truly dying—pressed against her chest like a weight she couldn't dislodge. She wasn't afraid of pain, not anymore. She had endured too much, seen too much. What scared her was what she would leave behind.

Or worse—what she wouldn't get a chance to.

She had been building something. A legacy.

And now she would leave behind nothing but ashes.

The thought nearly shattered her.

And—God, this was the part that gutted her—she would never get to live.

She had spent so much time chasing knowledge, chasing her purpose, that she had never truly allowed herself to want anything beyond it.

Not love. Not a family.

Not until she had stared death in the face one too many times.

Not until Edward.

And now, this was it. This was all she would ever be, and fuck, that was depressing.

Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.

Not for herself.

Not for what she was about to do.

But for the girl she had once been—the one who had spent long nights in the lab, exhilarated by discovery, by potential, by the pure possibility of science. The girl who had believed she could change the world for the better.

She had changed it, alright.

And now she had to burn it down.

She swallowed hard, forcing the tears back, blinking them away before they could fall. There was no time for mourning. No time for self-pity. If all went well, someone—Alice, Edward—would live to tell the story. Maybe her parents would finally know the truth. Maybe they'd understand.

But she would never see them again.

She would never have the chance to say goodbye, and that truly was the hardest part—but she had made her choice.

But before she ended this, before she took Victoria and Aro down with her, she had to see them one last time.

Edward. Alice.

She needed to know they were still alive.

They were her only unfinished piece of business, the last sliver of uncertainty in an otherwise inevitable plan. Because if they weren't alive—if she had already lost them—then she wasn't sure she had the strength to wait.

She would find a way to take Victoria and Aro down soon, once she knew Edward and Alice were safe.

Bella took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. One step at a time.

One step closer to an ending of her own making.

...

Four Days Later

Bella kept her posture straight, her hands steady as she worked, careful not to let her unease show. The workstation in front of her was pristine—sterile glass beakers, racks of pipettes, vials labeled with complex chemical structures. A biosafety cabinet to her left housed the more volatile compounds, each one carefully logged under Victoria's ever-watchful eye.

She adjusted the settings on the centrifuge, forcing herself to focus. The screen displayed the programmed RPMs and cycle time, and she double-checked the parameters before pressing start. The machine whirred to life, and beside her, Victoria leaned in, peering over Bella's shoulder with keen interest.

Victoria hummed, clearly pleased. "The stability of the enzyme has improved by nearly six percent," she mused, tapping at her tablet. "You've streamlined the purification process more efficiently than even I anticipated. Impressive."

Bella kept her expression neutral. "The old method left too many inconsistencies in the protein folding," she said, lifting a vial of clear liquid. She tilted it slightly under the light, as if inspecting its viscosity. "This new approach refines the binding affinity, increases bioavailability. It should yield a more stable compound."

Victoria's lips curled upward. "See? This is why I wanted you here." She turned the tablet in her hands, scrolling through data before nodding to herself. "We're weeks ahead of schedule."

Bella fought the urge to let her stomach churn. Weeks ahead of schedule meant weeks closer to mass production. Weeks closer to catastrophe.

She needed to move soon.

Victoria's good mood was a rare thing, a crack in her otherwise calculated control. Bella recognized the opportunity.

She set the vial down carefully, letting a pause stretch between them before she spoke. "I need something from you."

Victoria's smile faltered, her gaze sharpening as she turned her head slightly. "Oh?"

Bella exhaled, making a conscious effort to appear hesitant, as if this were a small but deeply personal request. "A scientist's mind is only as sharp as her ability to focus," she said carefully. "I've been cooperative. I've given you what you wanted. But I can't do my best work if I'm distracted. If I'm wondering—" She forced herself to swallow, her voice softening just enough to sound natural. "If I'm wondering if they're even alive."

Victoria didn't speak right away. She merely studied Bella, her head tilting slightly, eyes flickering over her features like she was trying to see past the carefully placed words.

Bella held still, keeping her breath even. She knew exactly what Victoria was doing—calculating. Weighing risk versus reward.

Finally, Victoria exhaled, tilting her head back slightly. "You always were predictable," she murmured, more amused than annoyed.

Bella stayed silent, letting the moment stretch.

Then, after a pause, Victoria turned slightly toward the door. "Demetri."

The guard at the entrance straightened, awaiting instruction.

"Take Dr. Swan to see our guests."

Bella suppressed the relief that tried to crawl up her throat, instead exhaling through her nose and giving a short nod.

Victoria wasn't done. She studied Bella with that sharp, clinical gaze, the same one she had used to dissect problems in a lab, the same gaze she had once used on Bellabeforeall of this.

Then, slowly, a smirk curled at the edges of her lips. "Five minutes," she said smoothly. "Don't make me regret this."

Bella kept her eyes lowered in something thatcouldbe interpreted as compliance. "I won't."

Not in the way you expect.

Victoria's attention shifted back to the tablet, already moving past Bella, already thinking about the next steps in their work. Bella turned, making sure to keep her movements controlled as she reached for a small tray of instruments.

Her fingers curled around the cool metal of a pair of crucible tongs.

She moved almost imperceptibly, palming them quickly and sliding them into the loose sleeve of her lab coat, keeping her wrist stiff so there wouldn't be any obvious movement. The tongs weren't sharp, but they were solid, weighted. If applied with enough force, they could do real damage.

Victoria didn't notice.

Bella straightened, rolling her shoulders slightly, adjusting the fabric of her coat just enough to let the tool settle against the crook of her arm.

She turned to follow Demetri out, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She had five minutes.

She had no idea if Edward and Alice were even in any condition to escape.

But they had to be.

Because this was the only chance they were going to get.

The hallway stretched out before her like a long, suffocating tunnel, each step pulling Bella deeper into the inevitable. Demetri's grip on her arm was firm but indifferent, his posture relaxed in that way that only a man completely convinced of his control could manage. He didn't see her as a risk.

Good.

She'd let them believe that.

The reinforced steel door at the end of the corridor loomed closer, its surface marred with faint scratches—marks left by desperate hands, by people who had been dragged in and never walked out. A cold chill wrapped around her spine, but she forced herself to breathe, to push it down.

The weight of the tongs tucked inside the sleeve of her lab coat pressed against her wrist. Again, it wasn't much—not compared to the firepower Victoria and Aro wielded—but if Edward had it, if Alice had it, they could make it something. She just had to get it to him without Demetri noticing.

Demetri swiped his keycard.

A mechanical clunk. The lock disengaged.

The door swung open.

And Bella's heart nearly stopped.

Edward and Alice sat against the far wall, bound but upright. The dim, flickering light cast harsh shadows over them, outlining every sharp angle, every cut and bruise.

Her stomach twisted violently.

Alice looked worse than she'd expected—too pale, her cheekbones stark against her bruised skin, her short black hair tangled from days without care. Her shoulder looked dislocated, an angry, swollen mess, her posture tilted slightly from the strain of it. But her eyes were clear. Sharp. Still fighting.

Then there was Edward.

Bella's breath caught.

Blood streaked his temple, dried into a dark, jagged line. His wrists were raw where he had fought against his restraints, and his knuckles were cracked and bruised, as if he had been hitting something—or someone—until the last possible second. His breathing was slow, controlled, but his entire body was coiled, as if ready to move when given the chance.

Then his eyes found hers.

And for a moment, the entire world narrowed to just that.

A storm of emotions flickered across his face in an instant—shock, relief, anger, fear. But underneath all of it, something deeper. Something that made her chest ache, like they were back in that room in the safe house, away from a ll of this.

Her body moved before she even realized it.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, hands trembling as they reached for his face.

"Edward," she whispered.

His breath hitched, his arms twitching behind his back, bound, unable to reach for her.

Bella cupped his face, her fingers tracing over the bruises along his jaw, the cut on his lip. His skin was warm, solid, alive. A sharp, overwhelming weight pressed against her ribs, but she held it back. She hadn't cried in days, and she wouldn't start now. But the pressure clawed at her throat, an unbearable ache she refused to let spill over.

Edward's voice was rough. "Bella."

She exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead against his, grounding herself in the steady rhythm of his breathing.

He was alive. Alice was alive.

Edward shifted, his bound hands curling into fists. His voice dropped, low enough that only she could hear. "You're okay?"

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, making sure he saw the truth.

"No," she murmured, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. "But I will be."

A flicker of confusion passed through his expression, his brows knitting together. She saw the way his mind turned over her words, trying to understand. But she didn't elaborate. She just needed him to hear it. To know that even if she didn't say it outright, she had already made her decision. That she had accepted it.

And when it was all over, he'd understand then, and that's all she wanted.

Bella swallowed the lump in her throat and turned to Alice before she lost herself completely. She moved carefully, wrapping her arms around her, mindful of her injuries.

Alice let out a shaky breath against her ear, her voice hoarse but still carrying a flicker of her usual edge. "Took you long enough, Dead Girl."

Bella gave a quiet, trembling laugh. "Yeah," she murmured, squeezing her gently. "Guess I was busy."

Alice smirked, but it faded as quickly as it came. When Bella pulled back, she found Alice studying her, searching her eyes.

Bella met her stare, and she made sure Alice saw it.

She squeezed Alice's good shoulder lightly, leaning in just enough that her voice wouldn't carry.

"You need to find a way out."

Alice stilled.

Her body went rigid, the sharpness in her eyes narrowing, dissecting.

Bella held her stare, letting the weight of her words sink in. She couldn't explain. She couldn't say more. But Alice was brilliant—she didn't need more than that.

The moment stretched between them, heavy, charged with unspoken understanding.

Alice's jaw clenched. Her fingers curled against the cold cement floor.

No.

She didn't say it, but Bella saw the defiance in her shoulders, in the tight pull of her expression, the way her throat worked around a silent swallow.

Bella's own expression didn't waver.

Alice's nostrils flared slightly. Her breathing slowed, controlled.

Bella turned back to Edward before Alice could push the argument further. She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to appear neutral.

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his back in what looked like a desperate, clinging hug—but as she pressed her body close, she slid the crucible tongs down the back of his pants, tucking them against the waistband, out of sight.

Edward stiffened.

She pressed her lips to his ear, her voice so faint only he could hear.

"Use it."

His fingers flexed, a barely-there movement. Then, understanding.

Bella pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. They were unreadable, darkened with too many emotions she couldn't name, with things he wanted to say—things neither of them had time for.

She wanted to say them, too.

But they no longer had that luxury.

It was almost funny. She really was going to die a virgin.

If only she could say I told you so.

Edward didn't move, but the muscle in his jaw ticked. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue, but she shook her head, just barely.

Not here. Not now.

Alice was watching, her dark eyes flickering between them, seeing too much.

Her chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths.

Her fingers twitched against the floor.

Her eyes—still sharp, still burning—stayed locked on Bella's.

Find a way out, Bella mouthed.

Alice exhaled.

Then she nodded. Just once. Barely perceptible.

Before Alice could say anything more, before Edward could say something that would give them away, Demetri shifted.

"That's enough."

His voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp, impatient.

His hand clamped around Bella's upper arm, yanking her up.

Edward lunged.

His entire body jerked forward, every muscle straining, teeth bared like an animal ready to tear Demetri apart.

"Get your fucking hands off her."

His voice was low, dark, lethal.

Demetri barely blinked. He just smirked, his grip tightening around Bella, fingers digging into her skin.

Edward's breathing turned sharp and the rage pouring off him was suffocating, raw and untamed.

"Edward," she said softly.

His eyes snapped to hers, and she held them.

She didn't speak.

She just looked at him.

And in that moment, she made him a promise.

His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists so tight his knuckles went white. He looked like he wanted to scream, to fight, to burn the entire lab to the ground with his bare hands.

But instead, he just nodded.

Demetri's grip on her arm tightened as he pulled her toward the door.

Edward's breathing was ragged, his entire body coiled like a spring, as if he were barely restraining himself from snapping the guard's neck.

Bella took one last glance back, locking eyes with Alice.

Alice's fingers twitched.

Bella wet her lips, staring at her, staring at Edward.

Her stomach twisted violently, but she couldn't let them see.

She had to finish this.

Demetri yanked her forward, and the last thing she saw before the door slammed shut—

Was Edward's face.

Tense.

Burning.

Ready for war.

I've spent the last seven years of my life in various science classes, finishing one degree and then chasing my doctorate in pharmacy (one more year!), and I think in this story I've forgotten not everyone knows scientific lingo I've been hearing for that whole time, lol. So, just in case, here's a glossary of some terms that you may or may not know, to add some context to the story.

CRISPR-Cas: a gene-editing tool that uses a natural bacterial defense system to change DNA in living organisms.

Viral vectors: specially modified viruses used to deliver genetic material into cells for research or treatment.

Gene-editing sequences: specific DNA or RNA instructions that guide tools like CRISPR to make precise changes in a gene.

Viral chassis: a modified virus used as a framework to deliver genetic material into cells for gene therapy or research.

Polymerase variants: modified versions of DNA or RNA polymerases that are engineered for improved accuracy, speed, or specific functions in genetic research and biotechnology.

RNA fidelity: the accuracy with which RNA molecules are copied or transcribed, ensuring minimal errors in genetic processes.

Binding efficiency: how well a molecule, such as a protein or enzyme, attaches to its target, affecting the speed and effectiveness of biological reactions.

Centrifuge: a machine that spins samples at high speeds to separate substances based on their density, commonly used in laboratories for processing blood, cells, or DNA.