demanded a scraggly, gray-haired man in a white lab coat. Hanson nodded grumpily before setting the cardboard box onto the table. He pulled a small knife from his pocket and gently cut through the tape that held the top together. As he folded the box back, the man slapped at his hand and shooed him away. “We’ll take it from here. Bring us another subject,” he spat. Removing his hands from the box, Hanson turned and lumbered over the tiny man like a Sasquatch. His broad chest rose and fell, like an avalanche thundered underneath the torn, navy blue work shirt. His wide jaw was clenched tight, his eyes thin and dark as he scowled at the feeble man before him. There was something cryptic and menacing about Hanson, besides the fact that he looked like the offspring of giants and great apes. His glare alone seemed dangerous. “Please forgive Dr. Heizwick’s crude tone Hanson. He’s been under incredible stress lately,”
