The Mutant Condition: Pathogens and Pestilence

Note: All dialogue translated to English for your enjoyment.

"I wonder what it is he dreams about."A soft voice breaks the silence, just about as loud as the hum of the machinery. The huff and puff of outdated and overused equipment serenaded the room daily with its struggling persistence. Her hands soft, fingers spindly before her old age, and her nails kept manicured and painted red. She tucks her favorite patient in as the day yearns on, assuring his blankets are fresh and snugly swaddled. The other woman in the room, checks her appearance in the mirror, fixing her low ponytail. Her icy blue eyes staring back at herself, darting to the corner, she pins a banana clip adorned with a cheap bejeweled flower to keep her bangs at a constant side sweep. Wiping her face a tad she exits, and speaks "Does it matter? I mean he's been here for four months now and not a thing has changed."She wasn't the caring type, mostly she came to work because it was her only source of income. However, the nurse that did care kept close watch. Particularly, this patient, the silent teenager, comatose for no reason. Her other patients were all too sick to be nice. Some could barely speak, but what utterances they could manage were demands for more drugs. This one, however, seemed to be in perfect condition, a conundrum for his body looked like he was in the last stages of terminal cancer. The tests had come back, and the numerous ailments this boy had within his body was unimaginable. She thought that he must dream of a place and a body that didn't hurt everywhere always. It made her tear up...But why wouldn't he die...What was in him that kept his body alive...Sheer will she supposed.

The two nurses left. But it was already to late. It was so amazing, and devastating, to think that something as delicate as the clicking of a lock on the rusty door could bring about the boys awakening.

With great breath, he rose to the land of the living once again. And just lick the clicking of the lock, two mechanisms working in unison to complete one goal, his body had done something to that likeness. No one knew it yet but he was a mutant, with a very distinct ability...Or abilities.

It took only the sum of an hour for the wing he was in to be reaped by his mutation. What was found, the leftovers of other human beings. Puddles of mucus-like substances in the beds, bathrooms, and hallways. Their bodies dissolved by his pestilence. This pestilence was so visceral and carnal, and yet it seemed as if the boy was unaffected by his own mutation. With the exception of the symphony of diseases riddling his body, some yet to be discovered, he was fine.

The authorities managed to remove the rest of the patients from entire hospital, which was the size of a football field, three stories high. But not before another band of police officers and workers were destroyed by the sickness. Patient Zero otherwise known as Pathogen, was quarantined within the hospital, which now had a 100 foot radius barricade. No one enters, and he didn't leave.

Having had their fare share of turmoil the citizens of Georgia quickly moved to destroy the child. The Russian government happily obliged their request for military strike, and literally bombed the building. And to their horrific awe, the child was nearly unscathed, apart from his arm missing in the rubble. He himself was weak, but not weak enough to know that he was now a target. And when you are targeted, you run.

NOW...

There is a ship on the pacific, shipments of imports from Russia, a dead crew, and one scared, deadly teenager heading towards the west coast harbor of Washington State.

@_sojourn_: "Greetings young mutant" we are known as the four horsemen and together can bring about the Apocalypse. Death, War, Plague and Famine now pursue bodies.

Unfortunately shadow form they can not interact with humans or mutants, so they themselves must now find vessels to release their powers amongst the living. The horsemen shall ride again!.

Something was in the air.

It was not so much a smell as more of a promise. A promise of change. Like a sentient breeze it crept through the streets and allies of Washington up the nostrils, creeping through the serpentine odor channels into the darkest and most private parts of the brain. Restarted, primitive, almost atavistic fears of things one does not consciously understand. Change indeed but not of the good sort. Rather the one that brings trouble, pain and death in its wake.

For a week Despair had perceived this indescribable breath of decay now unable to identify its origin. It spoke to her, even more after her terrible metamorphosis, and the animalistic part in her wanted to hide in some dark corner till it was finally over to feast on the remnants. But it was not that easy. The human part that she cherished so much would not let this happen and she was so thankful for it. So she endured the prophecy of doom and stayed on the inhuman streets of America’s capital not exactly oblivious to the threat but somewhat delivered to it.

It was when she found Martha when the first dreadful fragments of the event collided with her life. Martha was a homeless like her, fled from a responsibility of a tied up life that she had never asked for, from an abusive husband and a dead-end career as a hopeless housewife in a time when there had been not many alternatives for a woman like her. Tough as nails she had survived longer on the merciless streets than anybody else that Despair knew, a veteran of an unknown war. But despite all the violence she had witnessed and sometimes even dished out she had kept that minimal amount of grace that made her still a human being. That had been shown when a young girl with marble-white skin had stumbled into the derelict world of hobos and the old woman had taken her under her wing and taught her how to survive on the dehumanized pavement of Washington.

The moment Despair had lain eyes on Martha she had discerned the graveness of the situation. Like a wounded cat she had crawled into a filthy backyard littered with cardboard boxes, used needles, dead rats and other leftovers of so-called society. Her face, old beyond her 50 years, ridged with deep canyons of wrinkles, smeared with the soot of the street and covered with hundreds of tiny droplets of sweat, looked even more waxen and pale in the flickering twilight of a defect outdoor lighting on a brick wall. Even though her thick neglected her was stuffed under a shady wool cap it was clearly visible it had gone out in droves. Her whole body, though not being very sturdy to begin with, was haggard, wrapped in a sleeping bag like a shroud.

When Martha’s head lay on the Fallen Angels knees who almost lovingly wiped her forehead with a dirty piece of cloth the patient’s breath did not only come faster and faster but the reluctant nurse could also smell the bitter fragrance of death on it. Between coughs and gasping Martha managed to press forth a few whispered words while the unsteady light cast disturbing shadows on her gaunt face. Her mouth was a dark toothless pit, the words came out of it like messages from beyond.

“Despair… girl… I… I… don’t know… *cough cough*… what this… is… Started… a few days… ago… Thought *cough* it was just… the flu… but it is… something worse… far… worse… It’s… killing me… I… can… feel… how… my muscles… get weaker… I feel… how I sweat them *cough* through my skin… Not only my… muscles but… also… other organs… The pain… you can’t imagine… it… *cough cough cough* Argh… have never… felt… anything like… it… Please… PLEASE!… make it… stop… please!”

She did not get to utter any other pleas as she fought through another cough spasm but her intention was clear. A blood red tear shone in the Angela Atra’s eye in the face of parting from her former mentor. Her question was but a whisper, a last moment of shared intimacy between the two before they had to say goodbye for a long, long time.

“Are you sure?”

Too weak to answer Martha just nodded. Despair did what she was supposed to.

Reaching into her mouth she put her finger right where the accursed gland built and sheared a few drops away balancing them masterfully on her finger. Under normal circumstances she would have preferred to inject it directly but given the dire fate of Martha direct contact was not the smartest option at this point. For a few moments suspended in eternity the clear liquid hung on her finger as a crystal clear drop before it finally fell into Martha’s mouth. Greedily the black pit swallowed it and not even thirty seconds later her friend stopped being more than a lifeless piece of slowly liquefying flesh. No breath, no heartbeat, no reflexes, no brain activity, no life. Her friend had left this heartless world. Change had come to close the circle of life once more.

More than one red tear was shed in this godforsaken backyard in the lambent lighting but there was also an oath made that the street girl named Despair would ever be vigilant for this terrible disease.

There was a foreboding in a Washington port. Merkava arrives, by manifesting there through sentient fog, as opposed to being there in person. She was instructed to meet with M here, who would also be using a U-Fog body as a means of communication.

As Merkava was leaned against a wall on the inside of a warehouse, she felt a slight shift in the wind. "....It's about time." She said as soon, M manifested from seemingly thin air. Foglets gathering to form the appearance of his human form as he appeared before her with the same blank look on his mouth and his eyes hidden behind his glasses.

"Hey there, Sunshine." Merkava says in reply getting up off the wall, as she looks off to the ocean. Then she begins "So...this is where the patient is, right?" M held out his hand as a 3-Dimensional map of the area, with an image of the ship, soon to make it to port. M then adds as he said "You should have told me sooner. Then perhaps we could have prevented him from reaching port. What approach is it, that you intend to take?" He asks his ally, Merkava.

"I figure I'll talk to the kid. I've seen a lot of the stuff you gave me to review. A lot of these mutants have trouble with their abilities. I guess back when I was human, I'd have to be pretty brave to confront him, but even then, it'd probably be dangerous to upset the kid." Merkava comments.

M hands her pistol over to her, one she herself had decided not to bring. Merkava down at the pistol then at M, as he then says "This pistol is loaded with nano-thermite incendiary rounds. It burns at approximately 8,000 Degrees Fahrenheit. Only two thousand degrees short from the temperature sun. As one who still has the psyche of a human being, you in particular are better with people than I. And I do not doubt your decision. Nor do I encourage violence. However, I always advise preparation and caution." Merkava sighs and takes her gun, that she had intentionally left behind and 2 spare magazines. Should she need it. About 12 rounds in each mag. She still thinks about what to say to him, as he goes on to say

"He is here, somewhere. Now, I give you my eyes, Merkava." And with that. Like a Ghost, M faded from sight, though, it never quite left. Merkava's clothes shape-shifted, as she assumed more civillain clothes of a coat, jeans and shoes. She then leaves as she walks, to hunt for the scent of death, the sound of silence and the sight of bodies.

High above the rising skies of planet earth, above the spiraling planets of the Milky Way, deep in the vast arrays of space, the lonely god waits.

The Tardis lies in utter silence and harmonic ease while its pilot carelessly sits on top of her to perform one of his irrational meditation techniques. The Time Lord isolates himself while inside his factual fabricated world of meditation. He picked up this technique from several Western - G monks, who sadly against their wishes were known as "The Greys" to the humans.

With a blink, he returns to the world of reality. Slowly and gently he begins to uncross his relaxed legs, lift his body up and hurl himself down into the Tardis console room with the help of the smooth, sturdy hand of gravity.

"Ah, nothing like a good moment of meditation in the middle of space to make you feel ready for the day,.....or would that be night?. Well technically there is no concept of day and night in reality really. If we didn't have the moon and the sun intervening, we'd just be in utter darkness".

Suddenly, the Tardis monitor begins to produce that deathly sound of warning. The Time Lord stood in confusion. "Whats the matter?, i'm sure i gave you a check up just several hours ago. In fact, now i think about it, that was rather unnecessary. If you wanted new memory circuits you could have just waited!".

Failing to see any problems with the hardware, he heads to the console itself, turning the monitor to face him with such fluency it almost looked natural. Upon his observation he noticed a rather peculiar thing coming from the planet earth.

"What on earth is that thing?, It is somehow displaying itself as organic matter to the Tardis, yet it gives out such an immense energy output?."

Enhancing the image he begins to notice something even more frightening.

"Hold on a second, that energy isn't coming from a stationary location. In fact, it almost seems as if it is being transported by a sort of carrier?, a sort of host maybe?...........Oh..........I see".

Without haste, he brings down the dematerialization lever, sending the Tardis into the vortex with such speed and unbalance that the console room begins to shake.

Whatever the situation may be, he had to get to the source of that energy.

For it was not the energy that alerted the Tardis sensors.

But the power it transferred to its teenage human host.

Immortality.

Tomorrow is Veterans day. A day devoted, marked on calendars across the country to honor the fallen and alive men and women that fight to protect our great union. It was a day when celebrations took place in remembrance, and vigils were held to commemorate the dead. Even with all the thoughtfulness of people, there was still a population that was direly unattended too.

After I'd attained awareness of my own mental incapacity; my psyche had split into several different incarnations: lives lead, memories fostered, I found it therapeutic to see the less fortunate than I. Many days I'd spend at Walter Reed Hospital in the Nations Capitol, Washington DC, basically a candy stripper to wounded vets. Some days my talents for healing were required; with my help some of the patients were able to make 100 percent recoveries in less than half the estimated time of their stay. I thought of the trickle down theory...The less time they'd spend in the hospital, the less they would owe. It was heroic work. Heroes serving heroes. But my interest was still focused on those that came back with PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I'd witnessed men and women alike, young and old, stop drop and roll at the sound of any loud bang. It was sick, and sad. They'd become less human in a way, trained to live in a constant state of attacking awareness. It was an minimalistic life. But I was not judging, it was just an observation. My hope was to analyze and appropriate their treatments in my own life. So I'd come up short of breathing exercises. Still, it felt good to be needed.

Today, there was a long list of people that had scheduled check ins for extended stay ie, the only kind this facility had. It was not unusual to have a lot of unusual names, the country was built on diversity after all. So I paid no mind to it, not that I usually did. Most times, they just asked me to spend my time healing amputees, helping to purify toxic blood from foreign strains of sicknesses, all in a days work.

Making rounds along with a doctor an a nurse, we headed down a large hallway. I noticed the mint green tiles juxtaposed with the plain streaky white ones. Not uncommonly there was noise, the moans of men and wails of women. Today still, there seemed to be a different range of expression. There were literal screams. Just screams. And it scared me, it scared the doctor and nurse. We entered the large room with about fifteen gurneys filled with awaiting patients. The exclaimed in pain and agony. It was as if their pain resonated from them, because I too felt an immediate illness, deep inside of me. Disoriented, I fell to my knees, again noticing the other bodies around me falling or already fallen.
"What the hell is going on here" My mind raced first to the thought of a terrorist attack. But no, this was too small to local, even if this was the nations capitol, we'd have known of an attack. For the very life of me, as in the vomit that expelled from the multiple mouths of everyone. The stench and thought of it brought the bile to my mouth. "Get him the f*** out of here"Just barely managing to get to my feet, one of the patients that still been able to cling to their bed, he pointed. A lone person, seemingly unaffected by the crisis, sat shockingly still in the corner, weeping, and bloody.

It was wrong, all wrong. These people, should not already have had any operations, all of them were too new. I noticed his shirt, it had foreign letters on it. Or at least I couldn't recognize them in my stupor. Around me, the dismay of doctor and nurse, patient and myself disappeared. Clarity replacing it. He was the cause of this. But how and why. Maybe after all he was a terrorist.

Without a second thought, the floor began to quack. The last ounces of my strength being channeled into this, a large pipe breaks through the concrete floor sending a pulse stream of water ejecting towards the child. The force was great enough to break through the walls, removing him from the premises. But there was not an immediate sense of relief. Everyone still wretched. My vision blurred, and I collapsed in a puddle of my own self, becoming incorporeal water form.

....

It would take some time before I regained conscientiousness. The night sky looked down at me, the moon peeking in just a tad. I ask is everyone okay, with no idea how much time had passed. Around me, I there was nothing but the remains...Bones and gelatinous mess. Something inside me broke just then...And I cried furiously. I wasn't able to save them. I looked around, more rooms the same thing...I came back to the scene, three stories down a rise of ruble directly below. I think he must have died in such a fall. Instinctively, I investigate. This time however, something tells me to caution my moves. My power allows me to sense life...his life. Weak although it may be, he was still alive. But how. When I came to the main entrance the authorities had already begun a quarantine. They pointed guns at me, as if I'd done it...Committed this insanity. I was able to explain what happened, and how I thought the assailant was still alive, buried under the ruble, but also that it was not a good idea to test my theory, for fear of the same fate befalling those who investigated.

They let me leave...As if they could have stopped me. I didn't feel all the way myself, still a little woozy from the ordeal, but I knew one thing for certain. This was something that would require massive amounts of intervention. If one person could do all of this without moving so much as an inch, then it was everyone's problem. After I got home, I saw a news report on a mysterious death toll that had swept through the coastline. It was connected...What could I do?

It had been one week since Martha was gone. Not a nice one either. The same plague that had cost the life of Despair’s friend had cut a bloody path through Washington’s homeless marked by liquefied bodies. Disgusting puddle after disgusting puddle crossed the Angela Atra’s path and only with horror she could imagine that every single one had once been a human being with its own tragic story, personality and feelings. She did not even want to remember how many she had found. It felt like an ocean of them.

Her reason to go on this quest was a simple one: To find the source of the disease, patient zero, and eliminate it. So much she had lost in her life, so much was taken from her and seeing how people who lived just as miserably as her writhing in pain and crying out for a god they had not addressed in years was just that one drop that filled the barrel. The emotions in her had boiled up to the point where she could no longer endure them, where they demanded action instead of observation. The community of the homeless had become her new home and she would be damned twice if she let them perish one by one like that.

The trace was obscure, almost non-existent. It needed her days to finally find only the slightest hint of it. The victims were mostly not familiar with each another beyond the basic knowledge that they existed, the apathetic feeling that one needed to care about oneself first and the others later sat to deep. They slept in different, not even adjacent alleys defending them with the brutal intensity that every person who has nothing else shows. As far as she could discern they did not even get their food from the same soup kitchens. And just when she had been ready to give in, when she had been ready to just sit down, wrap her arms around her knees and just cry into her own sleeves, to wait till the malady claimed her, a higher being had sent her a sign.

“Havya been ta da new clinic, man?”

“Nope, but heard good thin’s ‘bout it.”

“Ya, Rupert’s been dere but now he’s dead, so guess ya can’t ask him no more.”

And then it dawned to Despair: The clinic. That had been the one point she had not thought about. A few inquiries had revealed that the other diseased had also visited the same hospital. Maybe it was time to have a closer look at this institution of healing.

Now she stood in front of this colossal grey block. The red cross shone bright into the hopeless night, a beacon to the wounded and suffering. Even at this late hour the windows were illuminated, countless nurses and doctors speeding past on five floors to get to their patients. The whole building brimmed with activity even at this late hour, ambulances delivering ever new sick persons to the emergency rooms. It held a morbid fascination, like a well visited grave.

It was the same fascination that held the Fallen Angel in place pondering how she should find the origin of the plague that was already derogatively called the “bum’s pest”. Maybe she could sneak in and steal a doctor’s coat, use it to get to the files and..

An urban thunder, the sound of exploding concrete, abused metal and rushing water, ripped her out of her intricate thoughts. Her blue aquamarine eyes widened in shock as she watched how a human silhouette was catapulted right through a wall and hit the asphalt with a nasty cracking sound before it bounced over the street like a rock skittered over a lake. All caution, all planning was thrown to the winds as instincts took over and Despair employed her long white legs to cross the distance between her and the human projectile. Maybe, so she thought, she could help. Administer first aid while the medics still rushed to the accident site or at least keep a dying person company in his last minutes on this cruel earth.

Seconds were everything that separated her from the victim. Slowly, almost hesitatingly, she reached out a marble colored arm to touch his shoulder, to turn him around so he could see his demolished face. A muffled rattle came out of his throat, filled with slime and almost inhuman. What terrible pain could this poor creature suffer? Despair already thought she could not help him anymore. But the reaction was not the one White Specter had expected.

Screaming in a language unknown to her he suddenly jumped up displaying a strength seemingly impossible for a man in his condition who had to endure such a feat of brutality only seconds ago. Mad from pain, still in a rage from the mysterious attack he did the unthinkable: He literally bit the helping hand.

Despair screamed as his splintered teeth bit deep into her alabaster flesh and he took off running into the labyrinthine maze of the Washington back alleys. But even worse than that was what her composite body told her. She had been infected! Horrors unfolded before her inner eye, how her body sweated and liquefied ravaged by the plague. There was only one way to prevent this…

She closed her eyes and concentrated. But this time she turned her bond breaking will not against the outside but against herself. More and more bindings were destroyed as her arm began to crumble. Black dots appeared all over her arm and trickled to the earth. Screaming not so from pain but rather from the experience of losing an integral part of herself forced an alley cat to flee. But the true horror was reserved for the humans, a mother and her child who were unfortunate enough to come by at the moment, as they witnessed how the young girls simply fell off and dissolved into hundreds of dead spiders. Irritated, horrified, traumatized they hurried away.

Despair on the other hand crouched there a few minutes more, her hand still wrapped around the newly appeared stump. Her deep blue eyes stared into the same darkness the young man had escaped to. Yes, she had lost an arm but that was nothing a bit of… feeding could not rectify. Therefore she had found something different: The person responsible for all this.

This was taking longer than expected.

This target was rather elusive, but most of the time, it's the vagabonds that are hardest to find. They are people who aren't as reliant on the infrastructure. However, irregardless, the subject was going to be found. Merkava also realized there were others looking for her. Besides the police, there was another girl. What made her stick out was the particular fact that she couldn't find her name.

In the mean time, Merkava had M send her a hydrogen fuel cell so that she could fuel herself. This body wasn't taking the cold too well. If her fuel cell gets broken she'll have to rely on electricity. The catastrophic explosion that will occur if it does get broken, would also be hazardous. But she can't eat to gain fuel in this wholly foglet body like regular people could or like she could in her enhanced human body. It also weighed her down. Probably would be best to not go a gaseous form with too little density. Especially with these winds. On the upside, the additional power did make her stronger and faster then regular U fog bodies/

She checked into a hotel for a night to install it on this body and then was back on the streets next day and was hanging around a hospital....then she caught wind of an incident at a hospital rushed to get their quickly. Running over to the scene.

She heard a scream (@despair_) and saw it on the street camera. Whoever that was that bit the woman can't be allowed to let the infection spread. that was the first place she ran to as she reached the hospital. She anticipated it's path in the alleyways and was swiftly running at 30 mph to intercept.

As the poor infected sod ran through the alleys Merkava ran along the rooftop and jumped off. Her shadow loomed over the man's head body as she pounced him. However, the man still retaliated, even with broken bones and smacked Merkava off to her surprise. He then scrambled onto her and as he aimed to bite her, she blocked with her forearm. She looked at the man, out of pity. He's just some ordinary person who had life, and probably a family. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

<"I'm sorry I couldn't have saved you..."> Merkava said to the man in Russian. Her arm turned into liquid and went into the man's throat as she pushed up on him. He began to choke and gack as she flooded his system. She flung him off as she reversed the position. She cut off blood flow to the head to make this quicker, causing him to go out in under six seconds. As she proceeded to for good measure, tear apart his brain internally. He stooped breathing. She got off him and stood up, U-Fog flying from his mouth, for a moment before she squatted next to him.

She put her hands gently over the man's pale eyes and slowly shut them, for him to look more at peace. Then she turned her attention elsewhere. She saw someone get bitten, and remembered exactly who it was. The nameless girl. Her own concern for her aside, she could hold information. Not only this...but the bite could have infected her....

She heard a pair of a few screams this time, and Merkava wasn't surprised with what they had just seen. Watching the scene from a street Camera. Though Merkava could not help but feel relieved that the problem of her infection was gone. She could replace the limb later, with time. For now, she went to meet this woman. She appeared, walking up to her slowly. Not wishing to surprise or startle her.

"Can you....heal that yourself? I can....stop the bleeding." Merkava said slowly, and with a calm, concerned stoic air, so that she could understand. No point in asking her if she's ok. She just took her own hand off. Merkava wanted to use her Fog to make the woman a sort of cast, if she'd allow her too. But she also kept in mind, that this woman wasn't a normal human, as she did just witness her arm dissolve into spiders from a street camera.

The newly elected Spanish Primer pace around the room contemplating involving herself in a new scare off the United States’ western seaboard. In this line of work terrorist came in a shapes and sizes, but it was rare that an attack rose to the level of a “Pandemic” this quickly. With a possible invasion of Venezuela on the horizon; and the imminent birth of her fourth child looming, Ziccarra was faced with the burden of deciding whether or not to provide aid in this scare.

“I cannot risk sending a taskforce, the risk is just too high; if they came back and infected our populace we too would be subjected to such high death rates” She explained to her “cabinet” whilst leaning on the side of her desk.

“What about Thee Champion? Surely he is impervious to such a disease” someone suggested, it was a good thought—a really good thought; but Alexis had been involved in heroics all over the globe, it’d be ill advised to change him from his current orders; not only that but we have NO idea what this disease is…”

An unnerving silence spread through the room, Ziccarra seemed to be the only with a palpable way to deal with it; even though she knew it’d garner criticism from her cohorts—and Alexis had he been present.

“I will go” Her imposing voice paralyzed the potential critics, at least long enough for her to solidify in her own mind that this was the best course of action. “B-But what about your baby?” asked someone concerned.

“My child has both Cardinal and New God origins; she is impervious to mortal diseases” she explained at her desk. “Yeah…but you are not” another concerned voice chimed in. “Well then, I guess I will just have to be careful now right?” Her cocky smiled disarmed them—at least their exterior; but internally they all worried for the first female President of the Spanish Government.

“Ms.Liafador, you used to be a mortal…if you leave you will be effected!”

“I have left strict instructions for Mr. Chavez, I shall return” She ignored, executing a masterful pirouette; culminating into her transformation to “The Goddess”.

“Do you have a plan for how you intend to stop said virus…?” Leo asked via their familial telepathic link; honestly she didn’t, charging into battle without full knowledge of what the enemy was capable of was sloppy even for her; however at this stage in her pregnancy she couldn’t even begin to think straight.

Her tailor crafted a custom fit uniform to accommodate her pregnancy, needless to say it was uncomfortable—she hadn’t bothered to answer Leo back because she was too busy thinking about how the skirt hugged her sides.

“This is just a recon, I need to see what exactly it is I am up against; I am adaptive, you know that. I will think of something” She relayed, quickly growing out of breath. “Lord, this was a horrible idea.” Was she tired, or was she already feeling the effects of the disease?

Her feet knew touched the ground, rather her knee; hunched over in the middle of the road, The Malagan Goddess immediately begin to cough and hack at whatever was in the air. Her body’s temperature rose exponentially, trying to crawl out of the busy street; her own illusionary prowess begin to get the better of her casting illusions at will.

The fast pace changing of scenery caused her to drop face first on the edge of the sidewalk, breathing heavy; she needed some sort of psionic recharge to provide fuel for her body. Whatever this disease was…drained her in bulk.

In a near future 20 yrs to be exact, a virus pathogen wipes out 90% of the worlds population and a nanobot with programing to destroy that virus was implemented yet unfortunately too late. As the nano antivirus was initiated the world infected reached 99% leaving 2 children in cryo-chambers, a male n female. The nanos were efficient at wiping out the infection and infected were converted from organic more useful materials used to crate an inoculation. The nano's then released the children to grow and procreate yet fate had other plans, the nanos attacked and began to bond making a symbiotic relationship between them. Leaping forward another 100 years the world is filled with a synthetic civilizations, and curiosity of their origins. It created a time machine to visit its ancestors. Now resistant to the plagues of the past, it opens a gateway and steps into the first documents outbreak site. Resembling a human in casual 20th century clothing in search of patient zero.

@shanana: (I respond in the last paragraph)

It was full on contagion. Seemingly within hours of first contact in the city, this virus had infiltrated the four quadrants of the District of Columbia, and no doubt its reach was further spreading. All of these things were to be mentioned in a press release conference within the hour.

The First Family, who'd thankfully escaped the city unscathed, along with Cabinet members and all heads of state were evacuated approximately an hour ago. I scoffed at the thought. But hypocritically so, because I wanted to be as far away as possible. No one. Nothing was safe anymore.There was no place to go. Sitting here in Alexandria Hospital, more specifically a conference room. I heard the lings being thrown around. I was there to answer questions and recount my experience, which I had done. Representatives from every major news association were dialed into a conference call. Soon the world would hear of this pandemic.

I ran around with ideas of how this could all play out, and the only thing that I could assume was that lots of people would die. I'm no doctor, I've only got a high school sense of the body. But what I felt from that coy, was a power devastating and almost cosmic; it felt like the universe had turned against me, and was using all its power to end me. Then it dawned on me, there probably was more damage done by me blasting him from the premises. Sometimes your instincts are wrong...I thought. Guilt cloaked me, but blame would solve nothing.

Just as I stared blankly at the pastel sedimentary walls of the room, another woman entered holding an enormous stack of manilla folders. She looked flustered and disturbed in a deep fashion. "It's a mutant for sure... affirming a notion that I'd already came too. It didn't make sense for this to be some terrorist attack, there was no way to combat this, or handle it with care. She continued ...His ability allows his body to create individual strains of his virus, and when you come into contact it mutates and infects you in a very peculiar way. Imagine a generic suit that everyone can get, but once you get it, its tailored to fit you and only you. It's why everyone can get it, and why there is no cure, or vaccine. There's simply to many ways it can counteract. Its a intelligent almost... It was then that I began to wonder how on earth I was able to survive. I figured that when I lost consciousness, and my body liquefied somehow that saved me...But how ...If you come into contact with this virus, it is already to late for you. I'm sorry."

I turned off. The doctor, whoever she was continued to give quotes to the media, and her voice drowned down into a hazy murmur. The full devastation of this entire situation was that, no one could really know they were sick until it was too late, and no one would know the initial death toll until it months after this thing was over, if it ever did stop. She announced the name of the virus MVI, or Mutant Virus Infinite. A foreboding title if there every was one.

As fate would have it, when I left the hospital, I returned to the district with in hopes of finding patient zero. There was an eerie quietness. Quarantine and curfew had been installed, and this one people were happy to oblige. There would be no work, no school for the foreseeable future. I expected to see no one, but I was wrong. As I flew within the high altitude, another body descended with expediency. Instinctively I eyed her landing, wondering who she could have been. A super of course. Hovering near, I watched as she landed, and began to wretch. Was it already too late...Was it airborne now? If so, could I risk getting close? But then I sensed her body...her bodies...She was pregnant. LUNATIC!!! What pregnant woman, super or now would invade this place of depravity now? Still she needed help. I landed as soon as she collapsed. I placed my hands on her body, and she was burning up. "Hi...Are you okay... of course she wasn't ...My name is Sojourn, I'm going to move your body okay..Don't struggle. You might be more hurt than we known." Telekinesis was fleeting within my powerset, but I didn't miss it. My hydrokinetic abilities were more than enough to do any task at hand. But now was the time for gentle movement. Mentally picking her body up, carefully, not moving any limbs, I placed her on a patch of greenery, hoping to examine her body more closely. Praying all the while that her and her child were unharmed.

She couldn’t fight even if she tried; her mental energies were depleted forcing her to decipher what was real and what was an illusion. “I am…fine” She said, holding her stomach trying to surmount the nausea. Her deep pacific blue eyes struggled to keep Sojourn within focus however; his body structure shift with every blink of an eye.

The reports indicate that in order to contract the virus; some sort of contact must be made with patient zero; she’d only just landed, how could she be affected now? “It tis an illusion…” she muttered, slowing down the pace and depth of her breaths; in the process activating one of her own techniques.

It was a form of hypnotism that requires extreme concentration and focus. It is perhaps the most powerful and dangerous of the Cardinal secrets, granting a Ziccarra unshakable resolve and tenacity. The “Mind-Set” will cause a warrior to ignore pain and fear, and allow her to see through her own illusion in times of duress.

Pushing to a vertical base the Malagan Marchioness slightly bowed before her would-be savior in a show of thanks for his concern. The eeriness of an empty metropolitan area sent chilling jolt of mild hysteria through her impeccably structured spine. “You mean to say, that all of the civilians are either dead or in hiding?” she questioned realizing no one dared be on the street in fear of being affected.

“I came to make sure this…thing stayed in America” She admitted, as the President of Spain; she wanted nothing to do with a pandemic in her first term. “But to also make sure no one tried to turn this thing into a weapon…something you Americans are fond of” She continued; this time holding on to her ailing abdomen…or lack thereof.

“I need a psionic recharge, I can stop the spreading; and hopefully contain the virus to just this city. We can also work out a way to contain whatever is causing this.” Ziccarra extended her hand towards the man in a show of solidarity.

“I am Ziccarra, Ziccarra Liafador” She said, giving him her full name; as there was no need to continue as “The Goddess” now that she was in public sights.

“Now, then what is this…?”

"Can you....heal that yourself? I can....stop the bleeding."

The voice came from the shadows, strong, dark but with a somewhat artificial quality to it. Despair could not tell what it was, it was well-balanced, far from being too high, emulated real emotion and did not have the synthetic echo to it that normally accompanied computer voices but there was something. Maybe it was in fact too perfect. For the emotional girl something was lacking in it, it felt hollow on a very deep existential level essentially within her.

Part after part of the perfectly sculpted woman appeared out of the darkness, every subtle curve played around by the shadows as of they were lovers unwilling to let her sensual physical presence go. Or perhaps she was not so much released from the shadows as she manifested from it like out of a dark mist. But it was not the strange female being’s body that captured the Angela Atra’s attention. It was her eyes. Human, yes, yet with the tragic impression of having lost something significant, an imprisoned soul behind glass very much like hers.

Slowly, cautiously Despair removed her hand from the stump where her arm had been, one alabaster finger after the other till the soft white skin was exposed. Just skin, no blood, no scar. As if she had been born with it the stump stuck out of the worn black attire. Dignified she rose back to her feet one hand draped over her shoulder like a fine sheet of silk.

“Though I thankfully appreciate your gratuitous offer I am afraid I have to turn it down since I am fortunately able to take care of this grievous dismemberment on my own. Also more important matters than my own health currently occupy my mind as I am in pursuit of a pandemic plague-carrier in hope of catching him and preventing a pestilent outbreak of biblical proportions.”

With those words she made the first step to follow her prey into the dark alleys not knowing that the strange woman had already taken measures for this.

Merkava was looking the nameless girl over herself. She looked rather, humble. Plain. Certainly not your typical pro crime scene investigator. No she was someone else. Someone who everyone probably saw as a nobody. An outsider. She reminded Merkava of herself a bit. Of what she used to be and maybe still, in part.

Maybe she wasn't a professional but she seemed to analyzing her, Merkava could tell by looking her in her eyes. It seemed to Merkava that under that cold pale skin burned a fiery determination. This patient might have claimed something from her. A parent? A brother? A friend? An entire family? She couldn't tell who, but it seemed like she lost someone close. She had a drive. And she looked like she had been through much....

Merkava saw that she had essentially treated her own arm. Just a stub. skin had grown over it. Something that would've taken a regular human weeks or even months in a hospital to accomplish. Heck, Merkava could have her entire head get blown off but she couldn't heal a loss of a limb that quickly. "Good." Merkava said sounding a bit relieved giving the woman a light smile.

"You're searching for him too, aren't you? This "patient zero?" She says as she speed walks forward to get close to her.Merkava then heard a voice. M-174's voice. "Merkava. The man you encountered before in the alley and engaged. That was patient zero." "....Are you sh*tting me?" "No. I am not "shitting" you. The objective is near by. It is likely he will recover soon."

Just the sake of Merkava's eyes then indicated urgency as looked to the girl sharply now and asked. "That one who bit you? That was him?" Confirming her conclusion would only hasten the rate at which Merkava now ran forward to intercept the patient before he could recover. Before he could get away again. How could she be such a fool. If he gets away, it's on her. her path went right to where the man is, or was. Her run averaged around 25 mph.

When Merkava got there, she saw a trail of blood where the man once lay. Merkava didn't pause, and simply continued running until she would follow the trail to where it lead. Across the empty desolate street, trying at a building. Merkava's approach towards him stopped, as she slowed. She wasn't quiet however. That building it sought to seek refuge in was populated. And she wanted to garner it's attention. Slowly, the patients gaze turned around....

@m-174: Encriptor viewing the virus in a 3d hologram assuming the last known appearance of his human self. Records indicate that at this moment in time patient zeros whereabouts to be unknown. There were others chasing this carrier, according to intel reports a Merkava, Despair, Shanana, and Sojourn were on the trail following the aftermath. I must follow them and inoculate patient zero else mankind and earths inhabitants will be nothing but records in time by synthetic lifeforms such as myself.

street cams at this time show Merkava once attacking a man after it tried to bite her, she thought it was dead. M closed the mans eyes and left the scene, little did she realize the man arose and began to run towards a building area filled with more potential victims.

watching the cams, a long range encripted signal was intercepted "Merkava. The man you encountered before in the alley and engaged. That was patient zero." "....Are you sh*tting me?" "No. I am not "shitting" you. The objective is near by. It is likely he will recover soon."

easily cracking the encryption Encriptor was hearing a ghost from his past M-174 an alley met later on eradicating the infected. Confirmed the location of the target, Encriptor transfigured into a helicopter whilst of out sight and flew towards the signature of Merkava.

Knowing that the people around patient zero were now infected his protocol was to eliminate with hostile force. Firstly to show compassion he was going to fire off Sevoflurane-Benzylisoquinolinium gas to numb their pain and paralyze them. Then once all non-hostile targets are clear fire incendiaries to burn up the bacteria.

As approaching the building Encriptor dispatches Merkava on the same frequency "clear the area, hostiles must be taken out", he says.

@despair_: @m-174: @encriptor: @shanana: "I recognize you but still, you must be insane come here." I spoke in a calm but confident voice.I listened as she explained herself, and what had caused her to come here. My suspicions were right, news of the virus had spread world wide. It was a modern marvel the way news worked nowadays. Inquiring about what exactly it was we were dealing with, responded frankly. "They're calling it MVI, abbreviated for Mutant Virus Infinite... I assumed that when I said they, she knew that I meant scientists and doctors alike...I encountered him at John Hopkins about six hours ago. When I tell you there is no way that we can get close to him without dying." Again, I expected her to already know this, but reemphasizing the facts were vital when dealing with this scenario.

I stand, changing the constantly dropping air temperature to a comfortable 68 degrees. Pacing on the street, I heard the sound of an alarm. The strength of the ringing echoed in the silence of the desolate night, vibrating off of every building. Could it be Patient Zero, could someone be warning us. "We should get going, and figure this out on the way." He was leaving whether she was or not, but just before he took off into flight, a thought entered his mind. We can't touch him...We can't get near him...But what about his mind.. Not yet putting two and two together, darted to the origin of the sounding alarm.

"Clear the area, hostiles must be taken out"...I heard it, but I didn't believe it...at first. Was someone actually trying to kill multiple people? Didn't this assailant already know they would die already. But it posed the question, is it murder if death is imminent, or a last resort to some sort of compassionate passing? It was scenarios such as this that spurned weeks, months, even years of punditry and legislation on how we deal with crisis as a country and world.

Not daring to get close to patient zero, I recognized him. He had that same agonized look on his face, the same distraught body language. His body was covered in dried blood, and bits of stuff. My stomach knotted, and I felt a deep sense of regret and guilt and remorse. This young man didn't want to hurt anyone. He couldn't control his power, and all he wanted was help. But everyone that he got close to died...An extreme case of a life that I'd known so well.

If it was the last thing I did, I would help him.

Upon arriving at the scene, Atticus probed the area. Without thinking he tapped into the latent psionic energy provided to him by the Oracle force within him, allowing for a slowed perception of time for everyone else but him. He could react with a greater chance of effecting a rescue for the poor unfortunate soul that would further harm the child. Gunfire hail began to spray outward towards him, I could see the shells of ammunition barreling thought the air, rippling the atmosphere. What a sight to behold it was to see true fear in everyone's faces. Scared of him, and he scared of them. This reaction was just however concerning Patient Zero's prior feats. He cried out, thinking none of your bullets matter, this is just more pain...More pain. His voice heavy and raspy for his young age.

I had to know what he was saying, maybe he was trying to tell everyone. The abilities gifted to me allowed for me to enter into his mind, connecting with him on a level that surpassed any barrier language posed. Within seconds, us two were surrounded by white light, his frail body naked and exposed. Here he could not hurt me, here I could help him.

"Don't be afraid. My hands reach out to touch him but he jerks away...I'm here to help you...My name is Atticus, what's yours? He is astonished because he understands what I am saying to him. He understands that I am here for him. I am Piotr Blok. I don't know what is wrong with me...Everything hurts inside of me...They keep trying to kill me, but I won't die...All I want is to die... The sadness of that statement didn't pass me. His words were the culmination of everyone who'd ever thought life wasn't worth living...And in his case, arguing against it would be futile. I know he needs to die, but he can't. What cruel stitch in fate had allowed such a wicked paradox. "How are you able to understand me...How am I able to speak to you... He asks me, but explaining it to him would have been a waste of time...All this time, I'm realizing that there were very little options to turn to now. "None of that matters now...I said I was here to help you, and that's what I will do. Give me your hands. He did so. I wanted to pray for him, but I was afraid that my own words would break me down to a place of emotion, and not action. In one brilliant flash, we were gone..In mind and in reality, replacing the warfare were the cover of space and stars; so beautiful you could cry. I am going to shut your brain off, except for the place that produces serotonin and dopamine. You'll be able to dream good things, and not feel anything...This is the only way. You know you are to dangerous to keep on Earth, anywear. Here you will remain in stasis for eternity, however long that is...You won't hurt yourself, or anyone else anymore."

For the first time, in a long time I guessed, he smiled. Ice crystals began to form around his eyelashes and along his mouth. His body bruised and beaten still alive. I'd like to think that what I did was humane; a good thing. But somehow my heart was heavy with the fact that I couldn't think of anything else. Relying on the immensity of power that remains still within me, also burdened me. Was it my own fate to call upon it whenever I could not do the job...None of these questions could be answered now of course.

Only seconds had passed when i returned to Earth, the bullets were still flying gracefully, deadly, through the air. I relinquished my hold on the time appearance, and left. No one need know what happened. They could look, but they would not find him, they could question me, but they would not dare. Sometimes, good things are also secret things.