Internal Affliction

"Wutai War On Hold"

"This is getting ridiculous."

Genesis leaned back on the couch in Sephiroth's office, dropping the folder in his grasp on the table between them. "Nearly half of the battalion I'm leading into Wutai in three weeks is on sick leave and of the remaining 52, only eight have shown no sign of also falling ill. Eight SOLDIERs is not an army."

Sephiroth sighed, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose, "A new tactic by Wutai?"

"It's not poison, Sephiroth." The brunette chuckled and shook his head. "They've all simply caught a rather nasty cold. It's been hitting a lot of people lately."

"A cold?" Sephiroth frowned. "A cold decimated a battalion of SOLDIERs?"

How in Gaea could a mere virus take out what Wutai soldiers could not? Something so simple and so mundane could not defeat them . . . could it? He picked up the mission brief Genesis had dropped and skimmed the names on the first page. Seconds and Thirds, as well as a few Firsts. He recognized several of the names on the list . . .

"Yes, my friend, a cold." Genesis gave the silver-haired swordsman an amused look, "Sneezing, headache, coughing, lethargy, sore throat . . ."

"I know what a cold is." He snapped, scowling, "I simply do not understand how it could take out so many SOLDIERs at once. SOLDIERs do not get sick."

Genesis snorted and shook his head, "Mako strengthens the immune system and kills off viruses and infections before they can take hold in higher amounts, yes, but the lower ranks do catch sick every once in a while. Colds are rather common among the ranks, as there are hundreds of variants. Angeal's puppy has caught it as well, and he's Second Class."

Sephiroth frowned again, shaking his head and switched his fingers to his right temple, rubbing at it in an inane attempt to assuage his worsening headache. " . . . has Medical made a report on it?"

"Only to say that it's resistant to all the medications they'd normally use for SOLDIERs." Crossing his arms, the pale-eyed man scowled. "It's contagious, so they're insisting on anyone showing signs to be confined to quarters. It's hit both the civilians and the military, around 4% showing immunity and an additional 6% resistance to it."

"A cold only lasts for one or two weeks, surely they will be . . ." Sephiroth paused as he felt a strange itch within his nose and frowned slightly, before continuing, "Recovered by the time –Hehh-chithu!"

Genesis let his arms fall and stared incredulously at the General, "I don't believe it . . ."

"It's nothing." Sephiroth grimaced and sniffled slightly. The Crimson Commander gaped slightly, Sephiroth . . . sniffling? It was . . . alien. If he had caught the . . . oh hell no! Genesis quickly got to his feet and moved for the door. "Where are you going?"

He hesitated as his hand grasped the doorknob, "I need to talk to Lazard."

With that, he fled. Leaving Sephiroth to stare at the door in confusion. Hadn't Genesis just come from Lazard's Office?

Over the past two days, Salome Hill had become increasingly short with those she spoke with. Her dark eyes were more often than not leveled into a blank accusing stare or a vicious glare that made even the instincts of a SOLDIER First Class scream 'run! Flee! HIDE!'

Normally, the blonde woman was very calm, completing her tasks quickly and promptly. With an impeccable appearance and a well-organized desk, her high-level of efficiency landed her one of the most difficult jobs in Midgar.

Meeting the demanding standards of ShinRa's Silver General.

"Tchiu!" If she had been holding a pencil, it would have snapped.

Oh, that was the last straw!

Suppressing her now furiously twitching eye, the light-haired secretary fished her sleek metallic silver Hephaestus Blade PHS out of her pocket and punched in a number before holding it to her ear. "I need an angelic intervention over here."

"Who needs rescuing?" the woman on the other end of the line questioned dryly.

"Most likely me when he retaliates against my attempt to wring his neck."

Her lips quirked at the sound of laughter and she rolled her eyes before hanging up and tucking the cell away securely. Immediately, she returned to sorting through the paperwork in front of her, twitching each time she heard a sound behind her. Ten minutes later, she raised her head to give the visitor a look of utter relief before standing and pointing at the office door imperiously. "Make. Him. Go. Home!"

As if on cue . . ."Hitchu!"

Angeal's eyebrows rose as the woman flinched so violently at the sound of the sneeze erupting from the far side of the door that her reading glasses slid down her hawkish nose. Glancing at the door, he decided to seek more intelligence before agreeing to the impromptu 'mission.' "How long?"

"He's had a headache for nearly a week, been sneezing for three days and the only reason he isn't coughing right now is because I replaced his sugar with honey." Salome's chocolate eyes narrowed darkly as she rattled off the information with the ease of practice, "If you can't make him go home, I swear I'll put tranquilizers in his lunch and help the Silver Elite kidnap him."

Chuckling, he offered her a small smile, "I'm sure that won't be necessary."

She responded with a dead stare, crossing her arms resolutely. Shaking his head slightly, Angeal stepped past her and knocked on the door, eyes narrowing at the roughness of the voice that answered him. "Come in."

As he opened the door, he gave his friend a cursory inspection. The silver-haired man's skin was even paler than usual bar the inflamed redness of his nose, his brow furrowed in pain, irritation or possibly both. Angeal took in the normal sights of pen and paper and the closed laptop, now accompanied by a lidded travel mug and a small box of tissues.

"You look like hell, Sephiroth." The Banoran shook his head, holding back a smile at the indignant expression he was graced with. "You should go home and rest."

The General raised an eyebrow and glanced at the pile of paperwork on his desk that never seemed to shrink. "You expect all this work to do itself? Besides, I'm . . . not sick. I don't get sick."

"You're turning your secretary into a nervous wreck." He bit back a laugh at the offended yelp from the door behind him, not missing the amused smile his friend made at the sound. "She can handle your work and bring anything that needs your personal touch to your apartment. And whether you like it or not, you are sick, and it's only going to get worse before it gets better."

"Worse?"

"Much worse." Angeal chuckled as the other man started to look slightly worried.

Tchiu! Sephiroth managed to bring a tissue to his nose just as the sharp sneeze escaped, sounding more like a squeak than a sneeze. The look of utter frustration on his face just made it all the harder for the Banoran to keep from snickering. "Fine, I'll go."

April 5th, 2011