In a flash that hurts and first but quickly fades to leave a pleasant kind of thrumming sensation in your thighs and around your navel...
It comes to you! You bolt upright and look around frantically for a doctor!
"Hey!" You call out. "South Korean diplomats grew a clone of the president's personal chef and he's going to poison the president's birthday oatmeal on the morning of the president's birthday!"
You are startled by a loud metallic clang. You spin around and see the girl, smiling.