Belisa Manual's case is shrouded in both mystery and a clear air of what had happened, yet the same air that strangles the throat into not speaking of it. As a child, she was always in the back of her classes, barely paying attention, drawing eyes in pencil, and sometimes, the horses she wanted to own. Of course, she was not from the class of life that would ever afford a horse, but her dreams were chased in a different way -- her other interest was in biology, health, the works of the human body. Eventually, this child was now part of something, and an adult, and working at a research facility somewhere in the Western States.

An opprotunity comes up for advancements in the field and a pretty hefty bonus. All it required was being a labrat for [OUTSIDER]'s project of [INSIDER INFORMATION] for a few days. Usual procedures -- hook your brain up to electrodes, take this weird substance in a needle, get observed after. It couldn't have been that bad. It would've paid the bills for the month, the landlord raised rent again, it really couldn't have been that bad.

It was that bad. Perhaps it was just some extreme allergic reaction, or it was built to maim, but ever since then, she fights for some compensation, some connection, some "it couldn't have only been me". Piercing blue eyes illuminate on a bright screen, using this new fangled Web Forum thing to search for clues, causes, answers, anything. So far, one guy with a similar story, and not many other hints.

Despite the warnings of her parents (having to move back in -- nobody's keeping a freak hired, or hiring a new freak), she's met up with this guy as well a few times. He's fucking crazy, but he's also all she has, and keeps him around with genuine friendship intent. It's like a platonic soulmate, but instead of a bond, it's an artifically ginger hair color and deathly pale skin.