Flu Shot

Story by Chibitiza

Rating: M, You know how gory Prototype gets.

Summary: A Civilian tries to cope with the revelation that he has become what everyone fears: An Evolved. Now he struggles to keep and contain what little is left of his former life, and needs help from an unlikely source. Story starts in the Prototype 2 universe after Blackwatch had quarantined NYZ but before James Heller's transfer from Iraq.

Disclaimer: Radical Entertainment owns the Prototype games. And I hate to admit, I don't own a PS3 or a 360. But the Original Character(s) are my idea, so you cannot have them. But I have seen the playthrough videos so I know what's going on...most of the time. I'm using artistic license to expand the in-universe a bit. As a side note, I'm trying to keep the story as close to canon via timeline.

Chapter 1: Wash your hands

My name is Desrow J. Delanski or D.J in short.

I am a genuine human being. I'm 17 years old, born on September 9th, 1993. I have a 6 year-old sister named Jennifer, a mother named Katherine, and a father named Jason. I live in what is now known as New York Zero, in the area what they call "the Green Zone" and attend a high school there. I am 5' 7", weigh 157 lbs. with a thin but muscular build, with Dark Bluish Black hair and dark blue eyes. At least, that I used to be in the section that's labeled "genuine human being". Nowadays, I'm completely different.

They call me an infected, a freak, a monster, a mutant, the next Alex Mercer, an Evolved, Tango Secondary, Tango Primary, Gentek's prized test subject/specimen, the Holy Grail of all biological studies, a superhero, a kid all caught up in shit he's not supposed to be in. In a weird twisted way, I'm a bit of all of the things they call me.

I used to be a regular person, a seventeen year-old high school student living in the Green Zone of New York Zero. Waiting for the whole "second outbreak spiel" to die down and be done with as if it was the seasonal flu. But, that's all changed one day. That one day when everything in my life went to hell. That day I met Alex Mercer.

This is my story of what happened on that day and what happened after.

Green Zone - Lincoln Meadows

Fall 2010

*Knock-knock*

My dream was broken by my mom softly knocking on the door *tap tap tap*. I groan aloud not in annoyance but to show that I'm mentally awake at the least. The last images of my dream vaporized, and then rematerialized in front of me when I unknowingly fall asleep again. Again, my mom woke me up knocking on the door sometime later. This time, much louder to indicate her patience was running out and to make sure I stayed awake this time.

"Come on, Honey. Wake up. We don't want Blackwatch to barge into the apartment again." I hear her voice from behind the door.

That got me up. I spring to my feet and quickly maneuvered my way around the messy floor - strewn about with my copies of the Monster Hunter games - to my dresser. Yeah. Blackwatch. The supposedly nonexistent branch of the government that defends us from biological infection. Infection my ass. And Gentek, the science division who "supposedly works hard to examine and develop a cure to the Mercer virus". More like finding a way to make it into another weapon without having it backfire like in Alex Mercer's Case. Hell, I'm not even sure how they managed to get authority from the American Government to dick around in the NYZ, let alone have it okay with the people outside the NYZ.

Now dressed in a white shirt decorated with a single angel wing on the front, brown khaki pants, and a white hoodie with red trim, I head over to the kitchen to make my quick to-go breakfast - usually a Jimmy Deans Breakfast Croissant - and head out the door to school.

"Be safe Desrow. Don't head into any kind of school or military trouble."

"I will mom. I'm heading out."

Green Zone - Lincoln Meadows High School

"Mr. Delanski!"

I snapped out of my trance and looked up to see my biology teacher giving me a stern look.

"Um sorry, I was disconnected from reality."

"Well maybe you should stay connected with reality to learn why some viruses have a long incubation period instead of being lost in your fantasy build-your-own-monster lab in your notebook." the teacher said sarcastically. I scowled in embarrassment as I heard several students around me snicker audibly. I mentally groaned, wishing that the teacher would just shut his yap. Despite all of the events that relate to the quarantining of NYZ and the oppression the non-military population of the city is put under, my AP biology teacher still has the nerve at the wrong time to abuse the students. At least it was a blessing for all of us in the Green Zone that they let Lincoln Meadows High stay open for god's sake. In frustration and resignation, I closed my notepad to show my teacher I am now giving him my undivided attention. Giving me a smug look, he went on to continue his lecture.

A bit of a personal back-story while the teacher rambles on with the lecture of the day; the notepad I had out is full of pictures of monsters that I create in my spare time, completely detailed from its anatomy to its zoology and everything in between. This all started when way back then in my early teenage years, when my father overseas would send me videogames of the "Monster Hunter" series for Christmas and I would be awed by how detailed and fantastic the monsters would be but would somehow be tied to the environment like it was actually meant to live there. Since then, I've been drawing monsters on pieces of paper, taking art and biology classes help me with my knowledge of what fits with what in hopes to make a proposal to CAPCOM and show my work and have them incorporate them into future installments. I also like to draw humanoid monsters and mutated humans as well from the inspiration around me (courtesy of Alex Mercer).

The school bell rings, signaling the end of school. Finally. I quickly pack my notepad and binders and bolt for my locker, being the first out of the door. I have a personal habit of sprinting through the school halls on break periods (which is something highly dangerous and frowned upon), taking a few turns here, swerving and sliding between legs of several students there, and a close call somewhere in between before skidding to a stop at my locker. For a brief moment, I stood idly contemplating my assignments for the day.

Hmm... I have AP Bio notes to finish and some bookwork on today's lecture. I just handed in one of my monster drawings for an art assignment so I should be good there. And for math... I snap my fingers, as if it was going to help me remember the thought.

"Oh hey Dezzie. Nice seeing you here. Wanna play 'kill the Infected?" A voice sounded from behind interrupted my train of thought, clearly audible above the student generated white noise to my ear.

I don't even bother looking back, knowing full well who it was. Standing 6' 5" Weighing 180 lbs with the body of a Varsity team football captain with all A's and an A+ in big egos and jackassery (extra credit for him becoming a Blackwatch-wannabe), Chandler Broadenstein was a pain to everyone, even in the Green Zone.

Goddamnit. Why does that fucker always have a dick to pick on me of all people?

Then again, I'm easy to pick out in a crowd being 5' 7" and the only one who has naturally growing midnight blue hair. I sigh inwardly and slowly turned around. I see two other students flanking the bully, presumed to his football friends who hang out with him since they had as much beef pounded into them as he. The three of them spaced out enough to be a distinctive group in the hall and have student traffic flow around them, but not enough for me to let a person of interest slip by without getting caught.

Wonderful.

"No thank you the time slot for an appointment with your would be victim has already been taken come again thank you." I said this in casual manner, walking past them to get back into student traffic that would give me some protection from what I can anticipate is a secluded bully beat down. A strong hand was slapped down on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. I know Chandler's hand feels when it's on me. Trust me, my gut, my head, and manhood had bad relationships with it.

"Well too bad" Chandler sneered "we're playing the game right now, and you're infected." There was a moment where everything somehow went stark still. I stood idle with Chandler's hand still on my shoulder, Chandler stood idle as well. Then from some unknown signal, I wrenched his hand off my shoulder and made a run for it. Chandler and his cohorts were caught off guard by this and from what I can tell from the resounding footsteps behind me I was a head of them by three seconds in my haste to get away from them and out of the school.

"Get back here, you little fuck!"

I ignored the shouts and concentrated on getting through the throngs of civilians and several other students in the front courtyard in hopes of losing them in the large park in front of the school.

But at that point I was winded, exhausted, and Chandler's gang were quickly catching up. Come on, keep moving! I urged myself. Looking back, I see Chandler - easily distinguishable from the Varsity jacket he wore - and his cohorts closing in. I quickly turned a corner - and barely managed to swerve out of the way of a roving military patrol squad. Chandler wasn't so lucky, and collided with the squad with the momentum of a bowling ball against line up of pins before tripping over himself. His cohorts had the fortune to stop short and watched the commotion, forgetting the objective of chasing me down.

As much as I would love to hang around and see the jock suffer, I didn't want to hang around to see the scene play out. I quickly ran back around the corner carefully and ran into the park for my personal safety. Better him than me anyways. A thought occurred to me along the way that I already had the books I needed for today's homework and that my trip to my locker was completely unnecessary. I mentally smacked myself for being so disconnected to reality.

I'm such an idiot; I did take my prescription of Vyvanse this morning right?

My head didn't provide me the memory so I was left clueless a few neuron pulses later.

My body was still shaken from lack of adrenaline, but I quickly found a nearby park bench to sit down. Now sitting down and inert, I feel the rush of exhaustion and relief flow through my body. Automatically, I pulled out my cell phone and began to browse through my text message inbox for any new messages, expecting a large number.

2 new text messages.

Well, that was unexpected. But with the outbreak about and many of my friends have already evacuated, I wouldn't complain for the lack of social activity within my circle.

I scroll down and open the first one.

SC_HwangG6: Dude, saw you running out the school so crazy fast. What happened?

Automatically, I texted in my response.

DJ_Des17: Chandler wanted to play "get the infected". Again.

SC_HwangG6: Well, if you're here right now, I'm guessing you got away. Right?

DJ_Des17: Yup.

SC_HwangG6: Nice to know. But I g2g. Later.

I closed the chat log and went to open the other new message.

Kate_D: Hi Des! How was School? Are you okay? Did you turn in your homework? By the way, I have good news from your Dad!

I sighed inwardly in embarrassment. Although Mom isn't old fashioned, she gets nosey about my social life and tends to create numerous awkward moments by joining an online chat with my friends. Still, it's my mother that's texting me and this system does have its upsides.

DJ_Des17: Hi mom, I'm fine. And yes, I did turn in my homework. What's the news?

Kate_D: It's a surprise. Come home and I'll tell you. But not now, I'm still busy at work and I have many customers waiting. Come home safely though and be back at home by 9!

DJ_Des17: Okay, I'll take care of myself.

Discussion closed, I locked my phone and put it back where I keep it, taking note of the clock on the phone reading 2:45 pm. This leaves me about 6 hours of free time, if I were to return home at nine o' clock. Perfect. I had the urge to get up from the bench but decided instead to view the scenery, gazing at the long line of buildings and traffic that stretched from one end to the other in a different section of the large central park nestled in the Green Zone.

From one end, I see a bar with a 1950s theme. Next to it, a theater that likely was showing propaganda packed educational flicks and ones that had been Blackwatch-approved obviously.

On the other side of the bar was a Japanese steakhouse, followed by a small plaza, a brothel, another bar who's neon blue sign labeled "Tavern"... wait, What? A Brothel?

I did a double take on the building sign that labeled "XXX" and stared at the building advertisement above in disbelief.

- Hot Girls at the Playhouse - It read, There was a white silhouette of a stripper and the bottom of the advertisement had an exaggerated rating of seven stars.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. Of all things that I didn't notice since Blackwatch's takeover, it had to be the brothel.

Bah, screw the brothel. Hell if I care. By now I had recovered my stamina and hauled myself and my stuff off the bench as I was stressed from the constant hustle and bustle by now and wanted a quieter place to unwind and work on my sketches.

There's a place in the large central park of the Green Zone that I often go to unwind for sketching. Isolated, quiet, and very few people adventurous enough usually find this place. Nestled under a pedestrian bridge and a steep hill is a small grotto that was a long time ago dug up by high school dropouts to stash their drugs and hang out to get buzzed. However, they didn't use it for long after the events of the first outbreak 14 months ago forced the parents of many to move out along with their kids and abandoned the place was soon after. How I came upon the place was by pure accident when I went on a walk in the park during the winter last year, and stumbled upon it when I slipped on some ice and fell down the hillside.

Since my discovery of the hideout, I've been using it liberally as a quiet spot. Its dry but cold interior gives me a sense of being placed in a primitive setting where the primordial beasts of the prehistoric age ruled, giving me lots of inspiration to draw upon on my daily pastime of drawing.

It felt very nice to enter the grotto, even therapeutic. Sitting down on a large rock just inside the cave entrance so I would have enough lighting to draw, I slipped off my Backpack to rummage for my sketchpad and graphite pens. Getting out my sketchpad, I flipped open the book to the drawing I had just been working on earlier that day - A rendition of bio-armor mutation that's designed for amphibious and camouflage - and let the imagination flow. Until something loomed over the entrance and blocked my light. I just had enough of this with people interrupting my quiet time. I was half expecting the person to be Chandler and was already prepared to put up a fight.

"Alright Chandler, what the fuck do you-" I stopped short. The person who was standing at the cave entrance wasn't Chandler Broadenstein, as the answer was not even close.

It was Alex Mercer.

There have been times where I have been scared, as the feeling of fear and suspense can get anyone's heart racing. And I've heard of people claiming to have been scared shitless but have been very skeptical of their descriptions of fear. But encountering Alex Mercer would count as one of the most horrible and fear inducing times I would remember. My fight or flight instinct instantly went dead. Something caught my breath leaving me unable to breathe or even swallow the saliva that was beginning to accumulate.

What should I do? Should I run? If I run then that would make me a coward and Alex will either kill me or consume me. But if I fight, he'll kill me without a second thought as if it was just as basic as breathing.

"What...what do you have planned for me?" those words went right out of my mouth before I had the realization and consciously order myself to keep quiet. Why did I even say that? I am surely going to die by then.

Alex didn't respond to my question. Instead, he started to slowly walk towards me. The terror in me skyrocketed, and my instincts finally found a decision and cranked it to flight full-stop. But the sudden energy and adrenaline surge came at a dexterity cost and instead of getting up and bolting at running speed, I bolted, stumbled from the imbalance and footing, then flopped to the ground, cutting one of my hands on a sharp object in the process. Shit! I scrambled to my back and backpedaled only to be swiftly pulled up off my feet and slammed against the cave wall with one hand on my neck and cutting off my air circulation, My vision and air supply rapidly turning black, I feebly tried to pry his fingers off in a futile attempt, knowing that the hand he's using has the strength to destroy a tank just by throwing a artillery shell at it.

"Hmm..." In my fuzzy vision, Alex looked at me as if he was amused by something and started to look at me more closely. He stared at me for what looked like forever while my life was slowly extinguished from hypoxia. Then as if by some grace, he let go of me. Dropping me to the floor, where I quickly choked and gasped for air on the ground.

"Interesting..." I hear him say as if in amusement. I looked at him in bewilderment and fear in what might happen since anything I might do would mean instant death. He stooped down to pick up my drawing pad and quickly thumbed through the pages, occasionally flipping its orientation to look at the pictures the right way or pausing to read the descriptions I spent hours writing or flipping back to a page he previously skipped. The sight of seeing Alex Mercer looking at my drawings instead of killing me is strange. Isn't he supposed to be a sociopath and a scientist? But still, if my sketches are what saved me, I'm now madly praying to whatever art god there is to keep him interested enough to let me go. After what seemed like minutes, he (surprisingly) closed the book and (even more surprisingly) placed it back in my school bag. Then he turned to me. My blood instantly froze and the sheer terror drained me of my pigment.

He had a smile on his face.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked. Never had such an innocent question frighten me beyond death.

"Desrow" I answered automatically. "D-Desrow J. Delanski"

What the HELL Desrow? You're one heartbeat away from getting killed by this psychopath and yet you're being polite at a time like THIS? But I had to answer the question, its common courtesy to be polite and answer. Being polite and courteous even in the face of death should count as a redeeming quality when death takes me to heaven.

"Well Desrow," Alex began, that dangerous smile grew even wider. Again I was picked up and slammed to the wall by the neck.

"Today's your lucky day!"

"How the hell is it my lucky day?" I croaked out loud.

"Well for starters..." he began.

A sharp and overwhelming sensation came from my stomach. I glanced down and could only stare in horror at his hand or appendage, buried into my stomach, injecting a foreign liquid that I knew would be the blacklight virus.

He then pulled up close and whispered in my ear. "You're going to evolve today into something better."

As quickly as he stabbed me, he withdrew his arm - now reformed into a normal human arm - and let go of my neck.

I've been sick before, the occasional common cold, flu and allergies giving me a seasonal reminder that the word "disease" still exists. If pestilence was a religion, then the Blacklight virus would be Jesus or even God. I crumpled to the floor in shock at the symptoms Blacklight started to wail onto my physical existence. In short: The most horrible illness I've experienced. Chills, Fevers, Nausea, hot flashes, rashes, allergies, convulsions, overwhelmed my immune system. And that was just the beginning. It took all of my mental strength just to stay conscious. And screaming in pain didn't help either as my lungs and throat was bombarded with every respiratory disease in the book. On the outside, I could see my skin and tissue mutate and wriggle in a bloody red texture worming in and out every square inch of my body.

"You can thank your DNA, Des." said Alex. I see him crouch down on his haunches, to be at equal eye level with my eyes. The pain from Blacklight was climbing to a point of blacking out.

"Turns out your genes have a special trait that I desire. However, consuming you would ruin that trait as well as wasting-"

That was the last thing I remember, as the pain was too much and my body began to shutdown. Then everything stopped.