Project GENETICO

Project GENETICO

  • WpView
    Reads 554
  • WpVote
    Votes 13
  • WpPart
    Parts 5
WpMetadataReadOngoing41m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Oct 31, 2016
As a Girl wakes up for the first time with no remembrance of who or what she is, in a place white room with the words "Project GENETICO" painted on the door she seem to have a lot of questions. test subjects begin to come into the white room and what she discovers is absolutely astonishing to her. the test subjects have super powers and so does she. Beautiful later to be nicknamed Bay isn't from earth, she was sold to Earth's Cosmo Corp so they could study her DNA, use it for there own benefits, and eventually killing her. But what will happen when she friends a test subject and escapes the one room she knows. will she be able to adapt, will she learn what kind of abilities she has, and will she ever find home.
All Rights Reserved
#38
genetic
WpChevronRight
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Children of the Dead
  • Damsel[ed]: No Rescue Required
  • D.N.A. - An Inanimate Insanity Darkfic
  • Injected ((RLLY FUCKIN OLD))
  • Experiment 5475
  • His Little Flower (18+) (Completed)
  • Shocking Memories
  • The Focus Effect
  • Lab Rat(18+)
  • Beyond the Iris

Enver Williams is leading on a normal life but that is all ripped away from her when she is taken from her home town. When Enver comes to realize that there are others like her in more ways than one, she is determined to free herself and her newfound friends from the physiological torment of her closely supervised enclosure. ••• "Do I make you nervous, Enver?" Another idiotic question. "Wouldn't the man who kidnapped you and threatened to kill you make you nervous?" I snap at him. He only smiles an odd, crooked grin. I can make that disappear. "Wouldn't a murder make you nervous?" Now it's my turn to pull the strings. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it?" He pauses, I guess hoping for some sort of mercy in my eyes, "I didn't kill her." "Liar!" I shout. "Why won't you believe me?!" "Would you believe yourself?" "It wasn't me who shot her," he sits on a stool, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then how do you know she was shot?" "I saw it. I saw him kill her," his voice was riddled with such pure vulnerability and pain it begged me to believe him. "Who?" I try to sound sympathetic, but it comes out as scared. Maybe, subconsciously, I am scared.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines