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"Such a wicked exchange, humanity. Is anything worth the price of your identity? It's one thing to have a choice, but to have it striped from you is more than most men can with stand. Is that why we go mad?"
~Lykos Carisma

"Can't anyone understand the pain of the thousand men trapped in those forsaken asylums? How can they turn to me and say they don't care? If there madness could be calmed, if they could become whole again, they could live. Live in society again. But how can I separate the madness from the man deep inside?"
~Henry Jekyll


Lykos Carisma
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November 1, 1874 (Alice Rivers)
Eternal Youth

It's enough to stop man dead in his tracks, in more ways than one. Would you believe that it's one of the side effects? No one would. How could they? It's clinically impossable, but there you have it. Science has once again been proven wrong. I supose most reasearchers would rejoice. Rich men can now live forever, but at what price?

I can't be sure. My thoughts are all muddled and a great weight has lodged itself in my heart because I know I have failed. I've failed.

In all my wisdom, I am blind. What use is this concoction I've created? Last night I dared to try a bit more on myself. It wasn't much, but enough to enhance my senses ten fold. That was my goal and it worked too well.

I was confined to my flat all day, unable to go outside for the intensity of the smell that greeted me. My eyes watered from the sunlight sliping in through the cracks in my shutters and all night long I listened to the skittering feet of mice in the kitchen three floors down. It was uncontrolable agony to my senses.
In time, I'm sure it could be controled, but should I continue?

If only Lord Deligade had changed his mind, but it wasn't a week ago that he sent 100,000 pounds to be invested in my research. I've always declaired that I owe the world nothing, but to back out now would be a mistake. My honor and my reputation are at risk not to mention my practice.

Sometimes it feels as though the only reason I can practice rests with my American heritage. The English use such information as an excuse for ratical behavior. This is my first and probably last chance to become someone in London. My serum is a break through in every respect, even though it isn't perfect.

I will continue for now. The facilities at St. Jude's are far better than my own and I will work there from now on. However, I have overheard conversations between Lord Deligade and other patrons. Indeed, it was a lingering effect of the serum that caused me to hear him seven rooms away. He talked of war, of perfect soldiers battle hardened and improved my my reasearch. My hair raised a bit on this discovery.

What really irks me though is the thought of using my serum on anyone else. I'll risk my own hide and gladly to satisfy my curiosity, but another human test subject? I don't think I can do it.




 
 
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