*Dr. Karen Dergors*
---
The lycanthrope's blood swirled crimson in the centrifuge.
Dr. Karen Dergors watched the separation process with the focus of someone on the edge of a breakthrough. Twenty years of research. Six years of fighting for clearance. All leading to this moment at 2:47 AM on a Tuesday.
Three minutes left on the timer.
The Prometheus Institute's secure lab hummed around her. Ventilation systems designed for biohazardous materials created a white noise that had become her soundtrack. In a few hours, she might change the world.
Or destroy it.
"Still here, Karen?"
Dr. Marcus Webb's voice made her look up. Her colleague of five years stood at the airlock entrance, concern written across his face.
"I'm authorized until four," Karen said, turning back to her notes. "Beta-17 trial. Mitchell signed off yesterday."
Marcus didn't leave. She could feel him hovering.
"The protesters were back today," he said finally. "Larger group. Signs about 'species purity' and 'God's plan.' Campus security had to call in city police."
Karen kept her voice level. "Since when has scientific progress ever been popular?"
The truth was, the protests scared her. Ever since the Disclosure Act of 2019 had forced supernaturals to register and integrate, tensions had been simmering. Five years later, they were approaching a boil.
The centrifuge beeped.
Marcus took the hint and left.
---
Karen extracted the separated blood components with practiced precision.
Lycanthrope plasma was unique. The proteins that triggered transformation also caused rapid cellular regeneration and enhanced physical capabilities. Her hypothesis was elegant in its simplicity:
Isolate the proteins.
Synthesize them.
Create a temporary enhancement drug.
Give humans the abilities without the transformation. Without the viral infection. Without the fear.
The applications were staggering.
Military units could match lycanthrope adversaries. Emergency responders could gain enhanced speed and healing. The playing field between species could finally be leveled.
She prepared the protein solution for synthesis, hands steady despite her exhaustion. Batch Beta-17 would be different. She'd adjusted the molecular structure based on previous failures. The enhancement effects had been too brief, too unpredictable.
This time would work. It had to.
Her phone buzzed.
*Mom, still at lab? Dad's making pancakes if you want to come home for breakfast.*
Karen smiled. Melissa was seventeen, old enough to understand her mother's work, young enough to still want family breakfasts. She'd grown up in an integrated world. To her, werewolves were just another minority group. Vampire-owned businesses advertised on billboards. Her high school had both human and supernatural students.
To Melissa, this research was about fairness.
Not fear.
*Save me some. Big day today. Love you.*
---
The synthesis would take six hours.
Karen initiated the process, watching the automated system combine proteins with her carefully designed chemical framework. Each molecule represented hope. A future where humanity wouldn't cower before supernatural strength.
As she documented every step, her mind wandered to practical matters.
The drug would need a name. Something that captured its purpose. Something that spoke to giving humanity a fighting chance.
Chance.
She'd call it Chance.
The lab's fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Karen worked in focused silence, unaware of the telephoto lens trained on her from three floors up. Unaware that in a boardroom across the city, executives were already calculating street values.
Unaware that her desire to level the playing field would soon tip the entire game board over.
---