go into the final stages of passing on. Fortellis wanted a disease that was a silent killer before loudly announcing it had been there all along.
Not an easy operation.
Of course, Fortellis did leave out that yes, the research did in fact also include some positive works. There was a need for better inoculations and remedies for various heart ailments and cancers. Of course, the search for bettering the medical community was focused on aiding the citizenry of the future Utopias, but even these advancements required human guineas pigs.
Thus, came the creation of the “cocktail.”
This in turn led to 20,000 men and women being injected with multiple strains of some of the worst viruses, cancers, and anything else their medical handlers could put their hands on. Each prisoner, each inmate, each test subject, would be riddled with the worst of all ailments known to mankind and be pushed to the greatest limits of pain and near death…
And never die…thanks to the “cocktail.”
The problem was eventually the NWO, its doctors, scientists, and everyone else in between, would get more than they bargained for.
Every time a patient would reach the max of their pain and dying thresholds, the “cocktail,” would be injected and in moments the man or woman’s body would regenerate itself to almost its original form of health. Over and over again, a patient could be brought back, thus leaving the facility with a fixed number of test subjects.
This ensured them their resources wouldn’t die out before finding the perfect strains.
Yet, soon after the Utopias were in place and occupied, the revolution was ready to move forward, and Draco awaited an ultimate, killing, response to any threat on the NWO. Everything came to play in a package no one would expect...
The scrat.
The actual date when a changing world would take another more ominous, deadly, and apocalyptic path soon after, is still up for debate. Yet, the facts are what they are and the world created by the NWO via a path not expected, but for surely welcomed, are undisputed…
Doctors Sherman Banning and Kendra Moreland were two of the best operating room attendees on record. Each was assigned to a man named Shah, one of the first test subjects at the facility. The doctors’ roles were simple: help with any apparent setbacks in testing by figuring out the problem, give the proper amount of cocktail and do anything else needed to soothe the patient’s recovery.
On most days, the process took an hour at least and a few more than that at most.
But on this day, it was happening faster than normal and too fast for comfort.
Especially when Shah went into cardiac arrest and began to bleed out from his anus.
The man had been injected with every strain of Ebola, pox, plagues, and newly created lab strain for almost two years, surviving it all.
Thanks to the “cocktail.”
Ah, yes…the “cocktail.”
Moreland and Banning worked quickly as they watched Shah’s already dark skin bruise in various places and the arrest sent the man into a physical frenzy.
With the aid of a large, stout nurse named Koko, the three worked feverishly to restrain what appeared to be a dying man in their generic, one of a dozen, antiseptic, labs. As the soldiers outside their doors manned the corridors of the laboratory and testing units, history was taking place in Room 43 unbeknownst to all but three people.
“ What the Hell is this?” Manning shouted at the other two. “This doesn’t happen.”
“ Guess what, Sherman…,” Moreland answered while her hands worked the first steps of defibrillation for Shah who continued to bleed profusely. “He is dying.”
“ Kendra…these people don’t die!”
Moreland applied the gel pads to the defibrillator paddles as Koko ripped the man’s shirt open.
“ Well, there’s always a first for everything,” she readied herself over Shah as the man, despite appearing unconscious, continued to convulse.
“ What is this?” Banning
Not an easy operation.
Of course, Fortellis did leave out that yes, the research did in fact also include some positive works. There was a need for better inoculations and remedies for various heart ailments and cancers. Of course, the search for bettering the medical community was focused on aiding the citizenry of the future Utopias, but even these advancements required human guineas pigs.
Thus, came the creation of the “cocktail.”
This in turn led to 20,000 men and women being injected with multiple strains of some of the worst viruses, cancers, and anything else their medical handlers could put their hands on. Each prisoner, each inmate, each test subject, would be riddled with the worst of all ailments known to mankind and be pushed to the greatest limits of pain and near death…
And never die…thanks to the “cocktail.”
The problem was eventually the NWO, its doctors, scientists, and everyone else in between, would get more than they bargained for.
Every time a patient would reach the max of their pain and dying thresholds, the “cocktail,” would be injected and in moments the man or woman’s body would regenerate itself to almost its original form of health. Over and over again, a patient could be brought back, thus leaving the facility with a fixed number of test subjects.
This ensured them their resources wouldn’t die out before finding the perfect strains.
Yet, soon after the Utopias were in place and occupied, the revolution was ready to move forward, and Draco awaited an ultimate, killing, response to any threat on the NWO. Everything came to play in a package no one would expect...
The scrat.
The actual date when a changing world would take another more ominous, deadly, and apocalyptic path soon after, is still up for debate. Yet, the facts are what they are and the world created by the NWO via a path not expected, but for surely welcomed, are undisputed…
Doctors Sherman Banning and Kendra Moreland were two of the best operating room attendees on record. Each was assigned to a man named Shah, one of the first test subjects at the facility. The doctors’ roles were simple: help with any apparent setbacks in testing by figuring out the problem, give the proper amount of cocktail and do anything else needed to soothe the patient’s recovery.
On most days, the process took an hour at least and a few more than that at most.
But on this day, it was happening faster than normal and too fast for comfort.
Especially when Shah went into cardiac arrest and began to bleed out from his anus.
The man had been injected with every strain of Ebola, pox, plagues, and newly created lab strain for almost two years, surviving it all.
Thanks to the “cocktail.”
Ah, yes…the “cocktail.”
Moreland and Banning worked quickly as they watched Shah’s already dark skin bruise in various places and the arrest sent the man into a physical frenzy.
With the aid of a large, stout nurse named Koko, the three worked feverishly to restrain what appeared to be a dying man in their generic, one of a dozen, antiseptic, labs. As the soldiers outside their doors manned the corridors of the laboratory and testing units, history was taking place in Room 43 unbeknownst to all but three people.
“ What the Hell is this?” Manning shouted at the other two. “This doesn’t happen.”
“ Guess what, Sherman…,” Moreland answered while her hands worked the first steps of defibrillation for Shah who continued to bleed profusely. “He is dying.”
“ Kendra…these people don’t die!”
Moreland applied the gel pads to the defibrillator paddles as Koko ripped the man’s shirt open.
“ Well, there’s always a first for everything,” she readied herself over Shah as the man, despite appearing unconscious, continued to convulse.
“ What is this?” Banning
Similar Books
