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Description

  "Well Doc...'What's it gonna be?'..." Valentine nervously asks, taking on the cadence of a 1920s Hollywood mobster to break the awkward moments of silence following Doctor Spira's preliminary visual analysis of the developing fetus.
  "...Boy or Girl?" continues the apprehensive but glowing expectant mother, Valentine.

Dr. Spira rubs her eyes as she continue to stares at the monitor. Bewildered: A look of abject terror begins to overtake her face like some mad-psychic-infection gone awry. She attempts to regain control of her composure. She fails.
'Its just a mutation...why can't i i control this primeval fear welling up within me...why do I have the urge to...' Dr. Spira loses herself in thought for a moment.

"...Doctor...is everything alright?" Jesse, a young (but nevertheless) pandemic-worn Nurse with only a few years on the job but the equivalent of decades of experience thrust upon her during 'The Second Great Pandemic', queried whilst tightly clasping Valentine's shaking hands. She had no comforting words and she still did not grasp the severity of the impending situation.

"...Nu...Nurs..Nurse..J-Jun..Jesse..Nurse Jesse! Get Dr. Frances in here NOW!!" a pale-faced Dr. Spira stammers. Her infamous poker face gone the way of the dodo.

  "...huh? w-what's going? what's wrong with my baby?" Valentine asks. The panic in her voice is palpable. Her "glow" snuffed out.
"M'am..you're going to need to calm down..Doctor?" Nurse Jesse, obviously the most collected individual in the room at the moment, turns her head to notice the growing wet stain manifesting on the crotch of her comrade's slacks.
"Give her...give her s-something g**d***it!" Doctor Spira yelled. She reached for Xanax that he shouldn't have in his coat pocket.   Little did she know of the horrors that would befall her in the next few days...let alone the world.

Description

  "Well Doc...'What's it gonna be?'..." Valentine nervously asks, taking on the cadence of a 1920s Hollywood mobster to break the awkward moments of silence following Doctor Spira's preliminary visual analysis of the developing fetus.
  "...Boy or Girl?" continues the apprehensive but glowing expectant mother, Valentine.

Dr. Spira rubs her eyes as she continue to stares at the monitor. Bewildered: A look of abject terror begins to overtake her face like some mad-psychic-infection gone awry. She attempts to regain control of her composure. She fails.
'Its just a mutation...why can't i i control this primeval fear welling up within me...why do I have the urge to...' Dr. Spira loses herself in thought for a moment.

"...Doctor...is everything alright?" Jesse, a young (but nevertheless) pandemic-worn Nurse with only a few years on the job but the equivalent of decades of experience thrust upon her during 'The Second Great Pandemic', queried whilst tightly clasping Valentine's shaking hands. She had no comforting words and she still did not grasp the severity of the impending situation.

"...Nu...Nurs..Nurse..J-Jun..Jesse..Nurse Jesse! Get Dr. Frances in here NOW!!" a pale-faced Dr. Spira stammers. Her infamous poker face gone the way of the dodo.

  "...huh? w-what's going? what's wrong with my baby?" Valentine asks. The panic in her voice is palpable. Her "glow" snuffed out.
"M'am..you're going to need to calm down..Doctor?" Nurse Jesse, obviously the most collected individual in the room at the moment, turns her head to notice the growing wet stain manifesting on the crotch of her comrade's slacks.
"Give her...give her s-something g**d***it!" Doctor Spira yelled. She reached for Xanax that he shouldn't have in his coat pocket.   Little did she know of the horrors that would befall her in the next few days...let alone the world.