When being defiant isn’t enough…
Christiana Fletcher, a just out of her teens experiment sets off from her orphanage home in search of the father who doesn’t know she exists. After finding him dying, she exposes herself as the experiment she is, using her abilities to cure him. Able to heal with her hands, Chris knows that she is the most wanted on the loose experiment, and this becomes reality when Chris and her father are chased by two men in a black car. After the subsequent accident nearly kills her, Chris wakes in a hospital alone; her father has disappeared. She is given a choice by her one and only visitor, a strange man who knows she is an experiment, but has no idea of her ultimate powers. This man, Philip, takes her to a place in the desert where others like her live, escaped and released experiments living in secret. There, she meets the love of her life, Jonas, a man with scaled skin and pointed teeth. Her life there is short lived, as a single mistake brings an end to everything she’d come to love. Chris sets out to avenge the people who lost their lives in the desert, the people she considered her family. Always the hunted, Chris become the hunter, seeking out the government bases that create people like her; and destroying them.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said to him as I walked back to the bed, feeling more and more confident on my feet. I flipped out the blade with a deft flick of my wrist, something that required a loosening of a couple tiny screws on the blade casing and a few modifications of my own. Good thing I’m handy with tools. It clicked and locked into position and quickly, before I could change my mind, I slashed open my left wrist.Christian’s voice rose to panic pitch and he leapt to his feet. “Holy crap! What are you doing?”“It’s okay,” I said, trying to make my voice as reassuring as possible. My hand was held up, palm facing him, as if that would help matters. I doubt that I succeeded. What did succeed was what I did next. I kept my eyes on Christian’s face as I used the powers given to me by some insane scientist pretending to be my uncle and sealed up the bleeding gash in my wrist. My skin knit new and perfect. The blood that was seeping out returned into my veins. A few droplets fell from my arm onto the carpeted floor and disappeared perfectly into the riotous pattern. I went to the bathroom sink, ran cold water over my wrist to clean it up, dried it off and returned to face Christian.“That wasn’t real,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.“Yes,” I said, showing him my cleanly healed wrist. “It was. That’s why you’re standing here instead of lying in a casket.”