Part I - Creator's Burden
Hello. My name is Annalisa Elizabeth Snow. My friends call me Anna. Hey, aren't you going to say "Hi, Anna" like all the other people? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm here to tell you a story, and I don't need your applause and the pathetic "Nice to meet you", or worse, your pity or fear. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime.
You see, I live in a world of happiness, shame, grief, selfishness, just like yours. The only difference is, living with me in this world is a virus called Blacklight, created in some scientist's basement by pouring together glowing and steaming chemicals with the hope to make nuclear bombs. Yeah, that's a bit exaggerated. But, I may be wrong, and, no offense to the scientists out there, I don't really care. This virus changed the world, until every other person you meet on the streets may very well turn around and put a big hole in your head, or just plain out eat you. Yeah, I said "eat," because that's what happened. Just trust me.
I will tell you now, so you won't worry about it later: I have no reason to lie. Fuck, you're nobody to me. So everything I will say is, and I swear this upon my unholy and tainted soul, true, to a point. Everything I don't tell you, however, is something else. But hey, I'm not lying, am I? I hate liars, and hypocrites, which is why I suppose I will go far, farther than I should to avoid lying. So let's get back to the story, eh? You're probably bored already. Don't worry, I won't ramble … too much.
So Blacklight. There are two ways … no excuse me, three ways, three ways a person can react to Blacklight. First, it can act like any other disease, except it's cancer, HIV and the Black Plague all rolled up into one. Buy one get two free; it's quite a nice deal. In other words, you die pretty quickly, and pretty nastily, but it's still better than the alternatives. Second, it can eat away your brain and leave you a host to infect more people with Blacklight, as in you turn into a zombie, like the overly stereotyped kind, and run around and bite people and stuff. Yeah, that's pretty bad. Just wait until you hear the next one. Third, and the most bizarre, it can enrich your bloodstream, and turn you into superman. Or a smaller, biological hazard version of superman, anyway. So then people discovered they could jump a hundred feet into the air and run faster than a train and throw cars around, and then the military has to come in and "fuck shit up," as they like to say. But anyways, it really depends on your genes. If you're lucky, you die, and don't witness the apocalypse that follows. If you're not, you turn into a zombie, or worse, into me.
Now who am I, you ask? Can I jump a hundred feet into the air or run as fast as trains or throw cars around? Yes. Can I do anything else? Yes. Like what? Like shift my biomass around to create hardened blades that can drill through a tank more efficiently than a railgun. Anything else? Stop asking so many question! This FAQ is over. Let's talk about something else. Oh yeah, like the last alternative I forgot to mention earlier.
Besides being a mindless zombie and a bio-hazard superman, you can also roll a Blacklight monster in this extremely unfair game of dice life so generously tossed your ways. They are exactly what they sound like. If you want to picture what they look like, here is one example: imagine a clay doll. Now make it stand, upright, like a normal person, and on it sprinkle glitter (preferably red) to simulate the presence of Blacklight. Now make a fist, to symbolize evolution, and smash it flat. There, you get the extremely scaled-down model of what some of them look like. Gross right? Where do all the bones go? Well, I don't know. This biology stuff is confusing enough already. But I really hope you get the gist of it. These beasts aren't all that human-looking anymore. Sometimes they can grow so large you have to wonder where all that biomass comes from. Well, again, beats me. All I know is I get my biomass from them. Where they get it, I couldn't care less. For example, one time I killed a giant about fifty feet tall. The only difference between that giant and whatever other giant you can think of was that that particular giant looked like it was inside-out, as in its ribcage was outside and its skin was muscle. Weird stuff, huh?
Off topic. We can talk about my adventures later, right? 'Cause after all, isn't that why we're here? So guess what happened after I turned? Well, here's my story, of the Maker's return, and the deadliest foe mankind has ever encountered:
ooo
So I was nineteen (or was I eighteen?) and about to start college, and still living in my parents' house. (Don't mock me! They said it was fine as long as I don't living with them until I'm like forty or something.) It was quite a quiet day, one of those where you get slowly dragged down into the couch, and then suddenly you find you cannot get out of the couch, and then are very content to slouch so badly even gymnasts jealous. And then the TV flared to live, and I was happily lazy.
The station was a news channel, with one very indistinguishable reporter monotonously rambling on to the ever-rising crime rates in the city. Los Angeles was a big city back then, bigger than it is now, and prettier, and in this big city roaches like all those unseen but assumed burglars, muggers, thieves, murders, rapists roamed for easy prey. They all walked freely on the streets, because no one knew from one person to the next unless they found themselves behind bars with a prison uniform. But hey, it may be dirty and cheap and all that lethal, it was still home. Every day since I finished high school I wondered if I ever wanted to come back to L.A. after my degrees, or should I switch this metropolitan for a smaller and more peaceful countryside. Well, guess what? It doesn't matter now.
"Reports are coming in of affirmation of sightings of the country's number one biological terrorist, Alex Mercer."
Since when weren't reports coming in? It wasn't like there was a false glimpse of this so called Alex Mercer on camera every other day? Or even just an anonymous police report, only for the police to find the caller was just another kid playing with fire? They would arrest him, and then rush to the next call with the same urgency though they were well aware in their hearts that it simply may be another prank. Of course, news channels loved these scam calls. It gave them viewings when people still shudder at the name Manhattan Outbreak. It was beyond pathetic that people continuously fell for it. Every. Single. Damned. Time.
"Police investigations are reporting negative. 'It may very well be a prank call, but we can't let the chance of him returning slip through our fingers,' says the police commissioner, who was an eye-witness to the events on Manhattan island months ago."
There it was: the Manhattan incident, or outbreak, or whatever they called it. It was mentioned in every supposed story in relation to this Alex Mercer, just to keep people on their feet. Sometimes a picture of the rebuilding New York City might even be shown, if only to remind us of the devastation of a biological weapon. But why should we care about another terrorist? There were probably more than enough just living in this city at the moment! So what if there's one more across the country? The military people are good enough to deal with it. In fact, they dealt so well with it they had to disband one of their assets on the charge of an attempt to nuke the city.
The station changed. Another report replaced this one, and droned on, almost in complete sync with the previous. The world became a little fuzzy around the edges, and the couch was becoming too comfortable.
"–of Alex Mercer in Los Angeles. The virus has spread beyond Downey county. Officials are urging all civilians to either barricade doors and windows or quickly leave the city if possible." I peeked open an eye. On screen was a map of the L.A. downtown and surrounding areas. A stain of red tainted the otherwise clean city. The announcer looked like she was about to start hyperventilating. "Evacuation is highly recommended. The army has already arrived to quarantine infected area." Red arrows extended from the blob in the city. One to us. I sat up.
"Mom! Dad!" Of course they weren't home. It was a nightmare come true, one in which monsters lurked just beyond the curtain of sight, and the parents were always mysteriously gone. Except that it was real life, and that apocalypse was literally a mile away. I leaped from the couch and hurried on running shoes. The TV was never turned off and forgotten as the reporter continued on. I suppose it was later when the TV tower lost signal or the solar electrical plant nearby lost power did it finally turn off. I often wondered, though it was an unhealthy train of thought.
The door had opened to reveal the usual neighborhood street, though something was strange about it. No children played outside this time, nor were the birds calling. The mailman had failed to throw a bundle of newspaper so carelessly by our front steps and the older couple living above us was no longer complaining so loudly. The world was too quiet. All the liveliness of the block was gone. The only remainder of a once-living city was a poor plastic bag, floating along with the wind, departing from sight too soon. I ran.
From the map showing on TV only moments before, the worst of the plague was in the north, so I went south instead. No one was outside as I passed, nor had I anywhere to go. Friends who lived nearby did not answer as I banged furiously on their doors, nor of an uncle who lived I remembered somewhere near the park. Far behind me was a siren, which grew only quieter, and then shut itself out abruptly. I had no time to worry about it. A fire sent up great fumes of clouds, the monstrous beast of black shadows shadowing over the infected city. It would within the hour that that part of the city burned itself to nothing.
Looking back, I suppose it was better to run away than to stay home. Through the smoke military jets raced to unload the crates of incendiary bombs in an attempt to burn out the infected biomass. How laughable would they seem if all knew half the planes they sent in did not return.
Something crashed heavily into the ground behind me. Moving quickly, I was in an alley now. A green and large garbage can hopefully hid me, though from the way the ground-shaking steps trod closer, there wasn't much to look forward to. I am not ashamed to say that I prayed, to God, to whichever Hindu God that governed death, to Hades, to the Devil (if I died, it didn't matter). And then, the miracle happened. I was safe. The loud breathing disappeared, the grounding teeth quieted, and heavy presence lifted. Only seconds later was when the second miracle happened.
It would be in that exact time that fate decided one gift wasn't enough, and sent a second one. And this one I did not pray for, nor ask for, nor happily received, nor calmly received. The man was tall, and big, built like a SEC football champion. He wore a classic military uniform, and a mask to hide his face, though I knew he was no military, not from the way the asphalt cracked under his landing, not from the way his hands twitched until they blurred. He took a step forward, and I took a step back.
"Please, no." Even now my past was so pathetic it burns me to speak of it. Hindsight is such a useful thing, is it not? Perhaps if I had stood up bravely to the evolved, it might have been a little less violent, and messy, at least on his part. Instead, he tackled me as I tried to run. It sounds simple, just a tackle to the ground. Police do it all the time. But no. This guy had the body temperature of a hot furnace and the weight of a health, adult gorilla. It was sufficient to say he both crushed me and gave me a bad burn.
What came next was always the most confusing part. To today it puzzles me why he did not simply kill me. It may have been a lot of reasons, but I learned to appreciate the fact that he didn't. If the story simply ended here, wouldn't that be disappointing? So no death, instead a total body invasion of a liquid fire which loved itself to swim freely in my veins. The ground blacked out, as did the man, along with him the burning smell of the fiery city and loud drums of the distant warfare. Little tentacles of a swallowing inferno laughed in delight to find a new playground for themselves and the deathly blaze slowly devoured my essence. By sometime now I think the evolved had left, but as I was laying on the ground dying of myself, I could not tell. I might have been screaming, or thrashing. And then the fire found something. It roared, and the world was gone in ashes.
A/N
Hello, all! I hope you've enjoyed this little preview of the upcoming story (written by me). Over the next couple of months I will be working furiously on this project, but along the way I will be taking breaks for other stuff. The plot has already been written, along with a short synopsis of Chapters 2 & 3. All important characters have been developed, along with their roles in the story, their personalities and individual distinctions. 3 additional classes of infected monsters have been added to those of [Prototype 2], the plot of which was thrown out due to that fact that I thought it was stupid. So here's the Second Outbreak, and the only difference is, this one is nation-wide.