Just Short of a Key Ingredient (Narrative)
Hank leaned against the desk, eyes drooping closed as he pushed up his glasses and rubbed his face, letting out a deep sigh.
Days and days of study and research, carefully examining the so-called "werewolf" blood and then later samples from a few patients he'd been able to get ahold of after the cure became popular. The differences were there, but he was still looking at how what really affected everything, and whether or not it was translatable to his own natural condition.
Finally, however, the coffee and twinkies' effect couldn't keep going, and the youth had to admit that he needed sleep. He'd planned for this, taking an old, busted gurney that the hospital didn't want anymore and sticking it in the back of his lab, but just as he'd stripped off his jacket and button-up shirt and leaned forward to fall into the bumpy mattress an alarm from the computer went off.
Hank jerked up, a surge of adrenaline waking him completely as he hurried over to the monitor, pulling it forward and squinting against the light. It was a machine to help analyze the genetic makeup of the blood, comparing the affect person's human blood and wereblood and showing the differences. Hank had already analyzed a few sets and felt on the bridge of a breakthrough, but it wasn't till he got to the new results that any of it came together. He frowned, too tired to see the blurry lines of the screen, then hit for it to print. As the sheets of information printed out he turned, loading another set of samples in. They took hours and hours to be processed so it was better to start them as soon as possible, even if he wasn't sure what was about to happen.
Tearing the sheet off, he read through the lines of information quickly, hoping up on a stool and pulling down the other charts from a shelf, looking through it all quickly. Then, slowly, a grin appeared. A moment later the scientist let out a whoop, jumping down and hurrying over to the giant dry erase board on the wall, starting to map everything out almost frantically.
"Yes, there you are," he growled at the letters as he wrote them, a surge of satisfaction rippling through him as he isolated the genes that changed in the people while they were affected by the were curse. A breakthrough…. he'd needed that. It had been too long since he'd made any real progress with anything to do with his genetics, he'd started to get discouraged. But this made it all worth it.
Now he had to compare it to his own normal blood. Maybe he'd start finding answers, at last, or at least making some progress towards a cure for himself. He turned, going to collect another blood sample from himself as he'd used the last one he'd had stored in a test that morning. As he reached for the drawer with the needles, however, he felt a rush and staggered slightly, vision going fuzzy.
He put a hand on his head. "Alright, alright, I get it," he groaned, arguing with his own body as he often did when he pushed himself too hard. His body was going to sleep, whether he wanted to or not. Sleep, and maybe a meal in the morning since he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten (heck, he wasn't even sure what day it was), and then he'd have the strength to go on working.
The young man collapsed on the gurney, pulling the blanket over him and immediately falling into a deep and unrelenting sleep, though the smile still clung to the corners of his lips. Pure anticipation.