(no subject)
The sharp and acrid smell of the hospital is gone. In it's place is something thick and sweet, a cloying scent that fills his nostrils and his lungs and makes him want to gag.
His party launches a special project in the name of 'national security'. At first, it is believed to be a search for biological weapons and it is pursued regardless of its cost. However, the true goal of the project is power, complete and total hegemonic domination. The project, however, ends violently... but the efforts of those involved are not in vain, for a new ability to wage war is born from the blood of one of their victims. Imagine a virus - the most terrifying virus you can, and then imagine that you and you alone have the cure.
Two hours ago everything was bloody-well normal. Minor operation and Aunt Carla had brought in her DVD player. They'd been watching V for Vendetta. Then the smell in the hospital had changed from something sharp and clean to something thick and wet and icky smelling.
"Stay here." Aunt Carla murmured, brushing a hand through his thick blond hair, "I'll be back in a moment."
"...Don't go out there." Something was coming through the air-duct. Something as sharp as the smells had been, something bad. A sound high and thin that hit the pit of his stomach like a suckerpunch from Billy on the playground.
"...Just a moment." she kissed him, "Nothing's going to happen."
With the smell came Aunt Carla only...she wasn't Aunt Carla anymore.
The eye of the thing was swollen shut by a massive purple growth that took up the left half of her face. She had no hands, only claws streaked with blood and the remains of a doctor's uniform hanging from her lips.
What was worse was the intestines.
They sloughed out of her hands even as she tried to gather them up and shove them through puffy and swollen lips. And the way she kept-she kept holding them out to him. Like she's trying to feed him.
That was when he'd run and hid in the closet.
The hospital was crawling with them, zombies, some shuffled and some grabbed for people with their hands while Carla bumped against his door moaning softly. Curling in on himself, he pushed to the back of the closet, hands scrambling behind him. Everything hurt.
Time passed unmarked until the front door of his room's closet shook, and he heard the sound of gunfire.
"Oh thank god." He hesitated before reaching forward and pulling the door open, "'bout bloody time you came!"
War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense.
They were police all in black with special armor over their bodies. One of the men, the one with the mustache, nodded to him, "...All right there lad?"
Carla lay against the bed, her ruined face gone..
Despite himself, he started to shake, "...please don't hurt me." Common sense reared up inside him and smacked him across the face. Don't hurt me? Don't hurt me? What the fuck?
He suddenly remembered the fingermen, but that wasn't real.
His aunt's body slumped, the movement making him jump as both men continued to stare down at him..
The younger one smiled at him, "....Little late for that lad."
Oppenheimer was able to change more than the course of a war. He changed the entire course of human history. Is it wrong to hold on to that kind of hope?.
The last thing that the child thought as they tugged the bag over his head was something vaguely sad and angry about how he was dying for something he didn't even understand. If I was going to be a martyr. He thought, as the life leaked out of a hole in his side, I'd at least have liked to know what I was going to die for.
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Across the Water in an Unknown Location
It wasn't the war they started. It wasn't the plague they created. It was Judgement. No one escapes their past. No one escapes Judgement..
"I am trying to decide if I want to shoot you in the face or arrange for a much slower and painful death."
"...You really think you're gonna fucking kill me?"
"I don't think. I know. And I want to know what you're doing here."
"Vacation."
"In this sandbox. In this hellhole."
"....One man's hellhole is another man's vacation paradise. Just look at Texas. Oklahoma, Washington D.C. Paris for chrissake."
"...That." Somewhere a knife is sharpened, "Is a fucking cop out and we both know it. I'm only going to ask you one more time."
"...You know how your boss actually found Project Terror?" Something squirms on a table, smiling stupidly at it's captor, "....'mean how he actually fucking discovered it? It's quite a story."
"I know it."
"No you don't. You fucking don't have any idea. Pesticide. It started out as a pesticide. This company-they're gone now-mixed two chemicals they shouldn't mix. Happy fucking accident. It killed four scientists and a bunch of people at a far up at North Cross and Lennox-down in that city you know?
Anyway, The Military picked it up after the CDC had no fuckin' idea. That's what your boss designed. Pesticide. Human pesticide."
"...Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm telling you this because you need to understand. Humanity ain't going to go fucking quietly. I'm going to make sure of it. All this is?" The squirming thing drew a hand over the world, "...Is a fucking means to an end you hear me? We don't want to die. I don't want to die."
"Everything dies."
And then something came down with an edge like the moon and a sharpness like the breaking of the world and the squirming thing started to scream.
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"....So it turns out." Abby said, "As a gesture of goodwill your country passed out Dc2 like favors at a child's birthday party." he sheathed the knife as his men moved forward to collect the spy's balls from the ground, "....Some of it got out."
"...In London?" Lewis's eyes were hard, "..That's what's up with this shit?"
"...In London. Although what prompted the escapade..." he shook his head, "...The airborne leak was contained. Lord knows how they did it. I half expected-"
Lewis clenched his hand into a fist, ".....It should have spread."
"...Well yes. But that's not an op-"
"It should. Have spread." The man's face started to bubble and distort, his skin blistering, "....Then we could have gone and grabbed a couple of limey bastards for you to work with."
Abby watched him carefully, "....I am against this plan, you know full well."
"So what." Lewis growled, "You just want to wait for us to die."
"Solutions will present themselves."
"There aren't any solutions." Lewis cried, "I'm tired all right! I'm fucking tired, and all I want to do is go home, and they're preventing that!"
"....What are you going to do?" abby murmured, "need I remind you, that your commanding officer has ordered you all to stay put."
"....Fuck him."
Abby raised a curious eyebrow, "...What?"
"...Fuck. him. He's different. Changed. I'm not following him anymore."
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