Okay, another part to this story. Just had to post it this afternoon. I'll probably post again tonight, around midnight or so. Who knows.

Love and all to you and yours.

Those people were fools. And Dempsey knew it. There was no room for equality, only his way. The Formula would see to that. Only the strong survive. Isn't that what the world had been saying for decades? Only the strong survive in the end. The strong... But strength came in many different forms, didn't it? There was strength of muscle, strength of character, strength of intelligence... Too bad the formula wasn't quite ready.

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Dempsey moves through the lab with hawk-like eyes searching for anomolies. Something isn't quite right he thinks to himself. After his usual pattern, ten visual sweeps, then ten sweeps with the Tri-Grid scanner, all is clear, but he still feels on edge. There is a greater sense of paranoia. Dempsey repeats the entire process; and then again.

Finally deciding this paranoia is due to his increased use of the formula, Dempsey takes up his awkward perch before the computer, turning it on. He loads up the data from the CD, pulling up the running log. With slightly trembling fingers Dempsey begins to type.

The process is working, I can feel the internal temperature shifts now, as well as the external. With last night's application of the syrum (17 July 2009) eye sight has increased to 2.8 miles at 100% resolution. Hearing has doubled to detecting whispers at one mile. Supliment G continues to aid in controling the aural and visual intake. So far there have been no results with the obfuscation componants.

Dempsey stops, looking around him, once again inspecting the walls. He listens intently, invoking the heightened aural receptors. Hearing nothing wrong, he again begins to type.

There is a heightened paranoia. I'm not sure if supliment K will help, but I am going to take the pills soon. Seratonin levels are still low, but not dangerously so. Is it possible that with a much higher Seratonin additive the obfuscation will kick in? When....

The phone blares to life, interrupting Dempsey's train of thought. He saves the log to the CD, once again deleting the record from the screen before picking up the handset. His high pitched, screaching voice grates through the mouth piece. "I'm working! Why are you interrupting me?"

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Michael pulls into the executive parking garage, taking the space bearing the new plaquard, Michael Thomas: Head of R&D. He notes, with not a little surprise, that Kyra's metalic burgundy Monte Carlo SS is already parked. A soft chuckle accompanies the smile crawling across his lips. For half a moment he allows himself to think about the way her eyes sparkled when she stood on the porch.

MIchael makes his way to the elevator, shaking his head at himself. How can I be so caught up in a girl when I have so much work to do? As the elevator carries Michael upward, he runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. But she's not just any girl, Mike. She's... he frowns slightly. different. Again he shakes his head with a soft chuckle bouncing against the walls of the elevator.

When the doors open, Michael steps from the lift, nodding to Kyra. His previous thoughts remain hidden within his mind, his expression showing nothing but business decorum. As her smooth voice dances toward his ears, Michael is hard-pressed to maintain the facade. "Mr. Thomas, Strat...... Mr Stratfield has requested a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. You have three insistant messages from a Mrs. Isabelle Thomas. You have a four O'clock with Timins. I hope you had a great weekend and Welcome."

Kyra grins brightly, somehow managing to mesh business with gentleness. Michael nods, taking the short stack of pertinent mail in his free hand, setting a cup of espresso upon Kyra's desk. His own voice is dismissive, but carries a gentle and friendly undertone. "Thank you, Miss Jameson. Set up an appointment with Dempsey an hour from now. I should be free then."

She grins brightly at the smells of the mocha, a bright laugh falling from her lips. "I surely will. And thank you for supplying my addiction." Again she grins, noting Michael's quickly supressed smile. Kyra turns to the computer screen as a soft beep sounds. She calls out to Michael before he disappears into his office. "Mr Stratfield has just paged again. I think he is rather impatient this morning."

Michael nods just as his door softly clicks closed. He moves lightly to his desk, allowing himself the small smile at Kyra's reaction. You knew she'd like it. And you did it just to see her smile. You're such a sap, Mike He laughs at his own thoughts, then settles back into his chair, turning on his own computer and sending a quick message to his boss. I'm in. You want me to come to your office, or will you show up here? Almost immediately George fires back a response telling Michael to come up to the top floor.

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