"Nelson get your ass in here now!" Not waiting for a reply, Simpson slammed the door to his office - the bang resounding around the rest of the floor as the venetian blind clattered off the window.

"Great, now everyone gets to witness my walk of shame," she muttered as she looked up from her printouts. Glancing quickly around her small cubicle, she spotted her notebook and stuffed it in her pocket as she made her way to his office.

She stopped to take a fortifying breath, tuck a stray mousey-brown hair that had escaped the ponytail behind her ear for the millionth time that day and smoothed a hand down the wrinkled blouse and skirt she had been wearing since yesterday morning. She knocked politely before entering.

"Sir?" she asked, peeking around the door.

"Close the door Annabel, unless you want the gossip mongers to have your business spread through the entire building come tomorrow morning," he advised.

Annabel shuffled forward and pressed the door closed at her back - the click making her jump. He motioned her to sit.

"You look a mess," he began, taking a gentler tone. "Did you even go home last night? Don't bother." He waved off her unspoken protests. "I already know you spent the night in the lab. Speaking of which, where's your report on the Nexus project?"

She grimaced and pushed her black rimmed glasses back on her nose. "Emm I need an extension. The tests I ran last night were inconclusive and I need to run more."

"Annabel, I've given you two extensions already. The board want those reports ASAP. I can't put them off any longer." He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "If you're having problems I can put someone else on it."

"No! Please the tests are almost finished. I'll type up an interim report tonight and have it on your desk in the morning," she begged, rising from the seat and backing up to the door. "I just need another couple of days tops."

She rushed from the room before he could respond with more of his usual rants and ran past the staring and giggling faces of her colleagues who were packing up ready to leave for the night. The lift doors were just opening at the far end of the long corridor; she sprinted for them. Catching her toe on an invisible obstacle, she tumbled head first into the arms of none other than Kenneth, Mr. Perfect.

Mr. bloody Perfect - the asshole - the guy who would take over her experiments; take the credit for all her hard work and not for the first time either.

"Watch where you're going you clumsy bitch," he grumbled as he pushed her away.

She pressed the button for sub-floor ten before sticking her tongue out and giving him a one finger salute as soon as his back was turned.

The lab was her sanctuary; the time she spent alone here were her most productive. She breathed a sigh of relief to find the place already empty of staff and switched on the computer - opening the Nexus programme to review last night's results.

She gathered two samples from the fridge, DNA from an unidentified life form. The British government had handed Simpson a batch of samples with instructions to identify their origins. Simpson put his best man on the job - not - he'd given it to her because the government weren't funding the experiment and the 'best' were needed for the paying customers.

She flicked the power button for the radiation cabinet and set the samples inside. The computer beeped signaling it was ready to proceed.

"Damn," she swore. "I forgot the host." She reached across and lifted the rat from the cage beside the computer.

The rat sunk its teeth into her thumb, taking a large bite and Annabel immediately dropped it. It scurried across the keyboard of the computer before disappearing of the end of the bench, across the floor and out the door just as it closed with a hiss. The air seal had engaged.

"Crap," she cursed again as she noticed the sequence for the radiation blast had already started. She had five seconds to get the door of the cabinet closed.

Four: She turned.

Three: She tripped.

Two: She fell with her hand landing on the computer keyboard.

One: The radiation charge increased from 4 to 4,000,000.

Zero: The glass vials exploded embedding shards in her face and hands. Dazzling light from the machine blinded her.

The clock on the wall read a fuzzy 9:30pm when she finally came round three hours later. She took off her glasses - setting them on the bench - and rubbed her eyes to clear the blurriness from them.

The stack of paper lying haphazardly on the floor under the printer signalled that at least some of the experiment might be salvageable. She tapped the wake up button on the computer. Nothing happened. The screen stayed blank.

"Just great," she exclaimed throwing her hands up in defeat. "That's the second one that's died this week. I might as well go home. Not that I'm going to have a home for long when the rent doesn't get paid because I'm sacked for sure this time." She kicked the stool out of the way in frustration but was so busy looking for her handbag she didn't notice it crash in to the wall twenty feet away.

She typed the code into the electronic panel that controlled the airtight door and nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing; the door stayed closed trapping her inside.

"And it just gets better!"

Her temper was rising. With gritted teeth, she let out a feral growl. She tried typing the code again, only this time when the door stayed closed, she punched it. The shock waves of pain radiating from her knuckles did nothing to deter her utter amazement when the reinforced steel door fell of its hinges.

"Great and I bet they blame me for the dodgy fittings on that as well," she muttered, stepping around it and making her way to the lift.

The doors pinged open on the ground floor and she finally looked up from re-arranging the printouts in to some semblance of order when she noticed her reflection in the glass of the main entrance doors. Only it didn't look exactly like her. This Annabel wore no thick ugly glasses, her blue eyes shone in the artificial light and gorgeous blond highlighted tresses fell in waves to her waist. She raised her hand to her face and realised for the first time that she had left her glasses in the lab and she could see perfectly well without them.

The reflected Annabel also had boobs that strained the buttons of her tattered blouse. She hesitantly looked down expecting to see her flat chest - that did not even require a bra - and squealed at the unbound pert melons that jiggled when she bounced with excitement.

She glanced at the printouts clutched to her stomach everything clicked into place. "It has to be something that happened in the lab."

The doors whooshed open as she neared, allowing her to see the pelting rain beyond the canopy. She stuffed the printouts into her bag and pulled her jacket over her head - not that it would do much good against the torrential downpour when her car was parked in the second last row. Keys in hand, she made a dash for it. Managing to jump twenty feet instead of the two she intended over a puddle. She then had to drag herself out of the hedge on the other side of the car park a mere second later.

"Wow, this is cool," she said excitedly. "I wonder what else I can do."

She drove to a deserted warehouse and went through some basic routine tests.

Strength: fist clean through a block wall - slight pain but no apparent injury.

Able to lift the rear of the car with ease.

Vision in light: up to 200 metres without distortion.

In darkness: Same as in light just a slight colour deficiency.

Speed: Able to keep up with adjacent motorway traffic approx 100kmph over a distance of two km both directions.

Jump height two stories approx. 20m.

Distance from standing: 25m.

Running start: 50m.

She realised she needed to assess her appearance too and headed home full of anticipation; the glimpses she was able to get in the car mirrors and window reflections were impressive.

The apartment complex was a hive of activity and not wanting to draw attention she kept her head down, taking her time to her tiny third floor flat. Once inside though, she stripped naked and stood admiring her new curvy, athletic body in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. This time yesterday, she was slim to the point of being mistaken for a boy.

Her chest was her favourite asset now and she turned left and right for a good ten minutes just looking at their pertness. In an uncharacteristic snap decision, she wanted to do something she had never dreamed of doing before.

Her wardrobe eventually coughed up the perfect outfit - an impulse buy several years ago with her first pay packet. Skintight red velvet soon hugged every curve to mid-thigh and simple black strapped sandals graced her feet. She looked liked a thousand dollar a go prostitute but she felt like a million bucks.

The first club she tried was't her thing as a hundred sweaty bodies were tightly packed into a space no bigger than her sitting room. The second was not to her taste either as same sex couples groped one another on a dark and dingy dance floor.

The third place rocked. Popular music belted from enormous speakers at either side of the large stage. Young men and women danced eagerly; the scent of sex pungent in the air. She spied the man she wanted tonight and made her way toward him.

He spotted her almost immediately and he felt himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame - or a lamb to the slaughter - depending on how you looked at it.

"Hello Kenneth," she crooned in his ear. "Want to dance?"

He stepped back and looked at her. "Do I know you?"

She giggled and shook her head before dragging him to a clear spot. They danced for several songs, their bodies touching and tongues dancing in time to the beat.

Annabel pulled away first. "I'm too hot. I need some fresh air." She looked around for an exit. "Is there a back door to this place?"

"Yeah?" He asked, excited at the prospect of what he thought she might be suggesting. "Follow me."

Once they were out the fire escape door, down a darkened alley and away from the main road, Annabel pushed him against the wall.

"What the hell?" he managed to ask before she sunk her elongated teeth in his neck and sucked him dry - not just of blood - leaving his desiccated, dehydrated corpse in the gutter where he belonged.

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth in a smooth motion, smacking her lips in pleasure. "Thanks Mr. Bloody Perfect, it seems you were my type after all."