My Sweet Tooth VS Thier Craving For Flesh

X ; Predator or Evolution?

I shall explain what the doctor is saying ; indirectly, she is telling us that we have no hope, no chance and might as well die now. The human race can sing kumbaya in the next freaking life. To describe the looks of those in this room would be an attempt at the impossible. A mixture of despair and sadness, and anger and, well, all which one would consider being the 'bad emotions'.

Why were we allowed in here again?

Because we're the main characters, and if we weren't in here, gaining all this information and realising there's no more hope- nothing else in this awful book would make sense.

Or

They might just find the loophole, and send us on our merry way to get killed anyway.

"But there is still hope, Sergeant."

Ah, there it is. Come Author reveal my next suicidal task.

"A young scientist named Campion Monet has discovered something quite, well to say, consequential to the matter." As soon as the words come out of her mouth, a man walks into the screen's vision. I can't make out much, but he has a thick mop of curls that tumbles down onto his forehead and round, golden framed spectacles, a sharp nose with high cheekbones. Large, light, gold-toned irises are behind the thick, zooming lenses. "Good morning, Sergeant. You're doing well, I hope." He says in a prominent French accent that makes it challenging to comprehend his English.

"I shall begin, and state my qualifications; I have a degree in the Bachelor of Arts and sound engineering, and currently, I am studying to specialise in otolaryngology."

"Votre age?"

"Twenty-Nine years of age." The scientist smiles.

"Doctor, what is the use of this boy?" The Sergeant asks impatiently.

Oh, he- did he just go there? Boy?

"Give him a chance. I would not waste your time with someone unworthy of it."

"Right." The young man begins again, "We see the heartbeats are unique, yes? A pattern of rhythmic beating, tunes, melodies, some would say," He tells slowly. "In the year 1810, a scientist named Eric Roe, researched the human body. His other habits included classical music and illegal practices, specialising in the organs of the human body." His English grows more and more corrupt but is still decent enough to understand.

"A great man without a doubt, he contributed in vaccines, assisted with the preventions of daunting epidemics and was a great service to the world. However, after years of research from our historians and scientists, his sins had surely revealed themselves over time."

"It was discovered that he would lure victims by inviting them to his iconic parties. Every now and again, a servant would go missing. The period of history they were in, and the lack of evidence failed to prove him guilty of committing any crimes." He clears his throat as if he were preparing us for what is next.

"They found at least thirteen of his victims dead, all of whose bodies were mutilated."

Gasps around the room serve as a momentary distraction, but I quickly shift my focus back. "Their mutilations to this day were left unknown, forgotten, until major..." He struggles to find the word, mutters something in French, then exclaims, "Similarities!" Embarrassed, he clears his throat, "Major similarities between those victims and those we refer to as 'Junkies'. The mere difference; animation."

"Junkies are powered by their hearts, which go through a dramatic... transformation." His accent dwells more and more on his home tongue, and it rouses more as his mood changes. "They are stronger, faster, their senses; heightened."