Lucrecia had changed that night. Living in the world for as long as she had, she'd been sure of one thing at least. She was quite sure she was not a racist, but perhaps a bigot, and divided the population in her eyes as people who believed in science and people who didn't. At the beginning of yesterday morning, she was equally sure that she'd been wrong about that assessment, and the world should actually be divided into people trying to kill her, and people who weren't.
To say it had been a long night would have been a facetious understatement. The laboratory was incomplete ruins, and she had not dared to set foot inside since the night before. Her hair had not escaped last night's misfortunes and strands clung to her face where the blood had dried, melding the locks to one side of her face. Bruises swept along the left side of her jaw line and down her neck, disappearing under the remains of her low-cut blouse. The lab coat that rested across her shoulders was meant for shoulders much larger than hers, and the bottom nearly swept the floor. It was the only thing on her body unscathed. Both arms were out of the sleeves and crossed over her chest. They were wrought with many blunt but deeply welted scratches.
She was not a recruit of last night's little escapade, but anyone in eyeshot of her now was most definitely guessing otherwise, especially judging by their wide-eyed stares and gracious distances. What the fuck were they staring at? Rude bastards. The thought had crossed her mind to confirm their fears, either by letting out a loud menacing screech, or by just charging towards them. She'd just shook her head, feeling the dried scabbing sculptures rip off, and feeling fresh blood start to ooze down her cheek. She figured she'd save her energy for the rightful target. Naturally he would be late, as little brat rarely took his job seriously when it wasn't dead set on massive profit or taking over the world.
The woman stood in full attention as the elevator dinged. It had made that same noise several times throughout her loitering on the 70th floor, but with this one she felt something different. The anger in her core started to rise, and there could've only been one person on the other side. She'd make sure the first thing he'd see should be her cold and waiting stare. "Mister president," she spat the title, "I think we should chat."
