So I finally finished that doodle I started a while back. Figuring I'll get a few things like this finished before gearing up for a new experiment to create my next Imaginary Friend.

A picture of myself, Abigail Normal, in my true alien form, with my first successful experiment, Horrible the Ratigator. A few changes from the norm here to create a more alien look, and I like how it turned out. I guess that means it's time for a new ref sheet.

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"You forgot your glasses, Doc," Horrible sighed, picking them up by the arm, between the claws of two fingers. They made a wet noise as he pulled them out of a pile of spleens that had been considered for use in the Mad Scientist's the current project and then reject for not being quite the right colour. Abbi took them and wiped them on her lab coat, leaving a smear of purple blood and green bile across her lapel.

"Thanks, Horrible. I've got to go. Make sure the experiment is comfortable...as much as possible, anyways."

As Abigail walked out of the room, tossing her lab coat in a crumpled pile on the floor behind her, she changed into her "public" shape, a hyena, like the rest of her adoptive family. Her fur shifted colour like a chameleon, and rippled as the bone and muscle structure underneath shifted. Even the air around her seemed to warp, as it made room for possibilities, for the quantum uncertainty of a morphic feild destabilization. First, there was Abbi the EDANO there, and at the end, there was Abbi the hyena, but in between, they both were, and neither were, and all points in between. By the time she was halfway up the steps from the garage basement, the atoms had settled into a comfortable position, and the unearthly shimmer of the laws of physics being bent double back on themselves dulled around her.

Horrible looked at the experiment on the table apologetically.

"Not as bad she seems."

"Pardon?" the experiment blinked in surprise at being addressed, and probably at understanding it as well, having just had its brain installed that afternoon. It had been staring at the door through which Abbi left.

"The Mad. Abbi. Complete space case--pardon the pun--since her brain's wired up all wrong; she was basically built totally at random herself. But she knows her work, and she shouldn't be too much longer finishing you, though she does tend to wander off in the middle of work."

"Yes. She does." the experiment mumbled sadly, looking down at an abdomen that still bore an open Y-incision, revealing ribs that were pried apart by clamped-down surgical spreaders. Behind them, the cavity was mostly empty, awaiting the organ systems, Abbi had yet to construct.

"The Mad will probably be back by nightfall, and will probably finish you then," Horrible scurried back and forth across the operating table, zigzagging easily around the other experiment, applying clean gauze to new sutures, and changing the sterile pads and cloths around the operating theater. "In the mean time," Horrible finished, hopping down from the table, and bounding over to a large, rusty lever protruding from the floor in the corner. It would be about waist-high on Abbi. Horrible leaped about two or three feet in the air, latching on to the black rubber grip at the head of the lever, and swung back and forth until the lever dropped to about a45 degree angle to the floor. With a grinding, creaking yawn, rows of pens and cages flew open, releasing all the Abbi's imaginary friends.

"In the mean time, " Horrible finished, "We other experiments have our own work to do."