A dark caption.

Cindy Bergman sat in her sparse office, just about to leave for the day when she got a call. It was from a colleague in R&D. She picked it up and the voice on the other end was audibly angry.

"Those idiots did, Mrs. Bergman!" She said, her middle-aged voice thick with anger and contempt.
Mrs. Bergman didn't need to ask. She knew exactly what her colleague was referring to. Project 328. Human head transplants.

"How many?" Cindy asked.

"At least six so far with nothing going through official channels. Everything is being treated like a high-level corporate secret."

"When you say six, do you mean six transplants or six people brought in?"

"Twelve people and six heads transplanted."

"They're..."

"Yeah, and I know for a fact that at least three of the 'donors' were not brain-dead. They're not disposing of them either, so I don't know what other fucked up project those poor people are going to."

"Okay, I'll be down in just a few minutes. Have you got our standard security? Not their specific security?"

"Yeah, already did. Three of them, and two more."

"Okay, you're where?"

"In their lobby area."

"Okay."

She got up, grabbed her phone and her briefcase, and within three minutes was at the R&D lobby. She was met by her colleague Tina Noguchi, a short, thin woman in prim tan dress, tan hose, and white heels and they and the five security officers walked in there.

They immediately went up to the project lead, a younger doctor who no one seemed to know the first name of, only going by Dr. Whitaker. He smiled as they walked in.

"I take it you heard about my project. Here to shut it down, I see."

"Yes." Mrs. Bergman said. "Is this where we trade our back-and-forth nonsense or do you just want to go quietly and with some dignity?"

"Neither." He said with a smile. "See, I might have given orders to let her see all of that. Especially the fact that, aside from the two brain-dead subjects, no one else is dead and six have their heads on other bodies. No, I did it because that leaves four for that experiment and we really need at least six to make it work. So..."

Mrs. Bergman felt the electricity shoot through her body as her muscles tightened and she dropped to the ground, hearing Tina grunt in pain she she also dropped to her knees."

"You two will do nicely. As for the rest of the two of you, I have some ideas."

Dr. Whitaker sat on the counter as his colleague, an older gentleman who had been with the company for decades emerged from the operating room. Before he was a tall, lanky elderly man here he was now, a foot shorter, still thin, and very much not a man anymore.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Whitaker asked.

"I don't think I like pantyhose." He said with a laugh.

"Well, only you can do something about that," Dr. Whitaker quipped. "I do find them rather odd myself, but I think dealing with those is a small price to pay for two more successes and our biggest threat removed."

Just as he finished speaking, Mrs. Bergman's phone started to go off. The elderly man saw who was calling.

"Her husband?"

Dr. Whitaker smiled.

"This is his third call. I think I'll pay him a visit later tonight, but only after a night out, my treat. I feel like I'm in the mood to celebrate our success."