Chapter 24: An Appropriate Response

Lady Macrophage's Warhost had grown since the time NK and MT cell left. Decimated squads of Killer T cells that took the brunt of Lady Em's sudden and unexpected attack rallied to the elder phagocyte's banner, swearing oaths of vengeance and extinction towards all who strayed from the Consciousness' light. Neutrophils who survived the initial assault also started bolstering her ranks. Like their lymphocyte cell comrades, these relentless phagocytes also got their share of carnage, with all of them drenched with the crimson fluids of their enemies. A number of Natural Killer cells, Eosinophils, and B-cells also answered her call to arms, providing much-needed killing power to her Warhost.

Last to arrive were other macrophages grouped into a dozen or more entourages, all wearing monocyte armor. Unlike the bulky armor worn by their esteemed lady, theirs was a lighter version built more for agility and speed. They've also upgraded their usual arsenal of bladed and blunt weapons into their more cruel versions, such as spiked hammers and giant claymores, which even seemed more misplaced on the hands of these fair maidens.

At the front of the Warhost marched its leader, Lady Macrophage, resplendent in her ivory-white monocyte armor. Seals of parchments that detailed her long list of deeds were plastered on her heavy pauldrons, while a necklace full of protein beads she took from her fallen enemies dangled around her neck.

Even when most of her forces appeared haggard and spent from combat, she looked instead radiant and immaculate from all stains of corruption. She strode with purpose and confidence while maintaining her proper elegance despite the whirring servo-motors of her monocyte armor.

In her left hand, she gripped a mighty cleaver sword that seemed more suited for a brutish lymphocyte. It was a weapon meant to be held with both hands, but the elder phagocyte held it out only with one. Any cell from her Warhost would be hard-pressed to wield such a heavy blade, but she gripped it with surprising ease.

Accompanying the elder phagocyte was her elite cadre of bodyguards donning armors of crimson and black, forming a closed formation around her. Her Praetorian Guards consisted of macrophages, former students, who have sworn to freely give their lives for her protection.

A praetorian guard named MC-7887, a young short silver-haired macrophage who recently got promoted to captain, marched beside her lady, her eyes fixed at the enemy host at a distance.

The scene before her made her sick. What awaited them was an army of horrors that should only be allowed to exist in nightmares. Immune cells from both the adaptive and the innate systems stood haggard and worn, their uniforms tattered and covered with black ichor. Some staggered to stand with some even missing limbs and others having their ribosomes and endoplasmic reticulum spilling out from their bellies. The enemy before them was an antithesis of all that was life and holy.

They must be all destroyed.

Behind the undead army loomed a massive gray structure that stretched upwards all to the topmost levels of the abdomen.

Though MC-7887 passed by the liver almost every other day during her patrol, she still had this urge to stop and bow towards the holy organ. Cells all over the world revere the liver as a hallowed place that provides multiple functions, including the production of sacred bile used in the breakage of nutrients in the stomach. The liver also synthesizes various forms of proteins, such as those used as coagulation factors by platelets. The inhabitants of the liver, specifically the Hepatocytes, helped detoxify intoxicated red blood cells by letting them rest and meditate until they sober up.

The liver holds an essential role in the continued existence of the world, and no cell would even think of harming such an organ.

And yet despite its hallowedness, it now burns in unholy fire.

Plumes of smoke rose like ash pillars out from all the four quadrants of the liver. Multiple explosions from multiple sectors colored its gray exterior, spewing out debris, fluids, and screaming cells.

The world had finally descended to hell.

A loud boom coming out from horns behind her indicated that the last contingent of her lady's Warhost had finally exited from the major blood vessel that led them here in this vast plaza next to the entrance of the liver.

"MC-chan?"

MC-7887 turned her attention toward her lady. "Yes, master?"

Lady Macrophage gave her a smile full of warmth and with no malice. "You have my gratitude for your dedication to my safety, MC-chan, but for this battle, I must regretfully decline your protection."

The silver-haired Praetorian furrowed her brows. "I… I cannot do that master, I am sworn to-"

"You have my word, captain, no blades of the enemy shall fall upon me today," the elder phagocyte assured her. "Amidst the carnage that will sour this day, my fate will ensure my safety until I will face Em-chan."

MC-7887 opened her mouth to protest but immediately closed them as she struggled to find the right words to use.

Another blast from a nearby horn indicated for every cell in the Warhost to ready themselves for imminent battle.

"Be that as it may," the silver-haired Praetorian replied, carefully choosing her words. "You, and Lady Em, might know deep in your mitochondrions your inevitable confrontation, but everyone else does not."

She unsheathed her blade and pointed it at the waiting enemy. "The hordes of the damned in front of us do not know your fate, my master. You need our protection, and we shall gladly give you our lives so you could do battle with your errant apprentice undisturbed."

Lady Macrophage's smile widened. "I have trained you well, MC-chan. I am grateful to have been your teacher."

MC-7887's cheeks flushed red at the unexpected compliment.

"Y-You honor me deeply master," she bowed her head. "I will never fail you."

"I know," nodded the elder phagocyte. "But alas, I might fail you."

The silver-haired Praetorian's brow furrowed with confusion. "I… I don't understand."

"There are times when the fates of two individuals must cross with each other, and only one shall be allowed to prosper." Lady Macrophage clarified as she turned her gaze back toward the waiting enemy. "MC-chan, this could perhaps be the battlefield where my legacy ends."

The young praetorian captain stared at her master for a long time, noting the somber expression now plastered on her face. Lady Macrophage was always known to hide her real emotions behind a smiling mask. MC-7887 remembered well when she was coldly reprimanded by her master for failing on a mission while sporting a cheerful smile. This time, however, it was clear the elder phagocyte was troubled.

"I believe in you as much as you believe in me, master," she assured her. "This battle will be a slaughter for MT cells to remember, but we will persevere, we will be victorious."

Lady Macrophage nodded in agreement but said nothing. Her attention now wholly focused on the enemy up ahead. The elder phagocyte raised a hand, and then horns started to blare.

"It's time," the elder phagocyte muttered.

The Warhost started to gain up speed, from a walking pace to a jog. The ground rumbled from the thousands of footfalls of a moving army.

The enemy responded in kind with the screeching blares of their own horns. MC-7887 could see the whole bulk of the damned horde sally forth in unison. Even when she could see infected cells trudging forward with missing limbs and exposed organelles, they still managed to form a cohesive front. No one would be defending any strategic points today, everyone would be surging for the attack.

Their pace began to quicken. Despite Lady Macrophage's bulky armor, she led her Warhost with ease, from a jog to a half-run. The servos on her leg joints whirred in protest, but the elder phagocyte didn't even seem to break a sweat.

MC-7887 gave a quick glance at her fellow praetorians, keeping strides with their master. They moved in complete silence, their faces neutral and indifferent, in contrast to Lady Macrophage's usual smiling expression. The young praetorian captain felt assured at her sister's Stoic stance despite the looming doom up ahead. She was under no illusion that before the end of the circadian cycle, many of her fellow guards would be dead. It doesn't matter. Even if she and all the guards under her die, it would all be worth it as long as their master survives.

The incoming horde was almost upon them. MC-7887 could now discern in more detail the debauchery of the enemy. Fallen KT cells, neutrophils, NK cells, and other immune cells all race towards them, now mindless and definitely dead. A circadian cycle ago, these were one of the world's finest warriors whose loyalties and dedication to their duties were unquestionable. Now, they've become nightmarish parodies of their former lives.

MC-7887 felt her mitochondrion beating furiously with rage at the thought. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on her sword handle.

"For your honor and for the world,"she muttered an oath under her breath. "I shall destroy all of you."

The horde was almost upon them. Lady Macrophage finally raised her mighty cleaver sword up high, and the clang of a thousand unsheathed blades responded to her command.

MC-7887 also raised her sword, and in unison with her brothers and sisters in the Warhost, they let out a deafening war-cry.

The enemy responded with the horrific screams of the dead.


A/N:

Back when I was in bed fighting off a fever 2 years ago, this was the scene that I was constantly imagining over and over again... a clash between infected cells against Lady Macrophage and an army of immune cells. This later gave me the idea to write a fanfic story for Cells at Work about Ebola which I watched a vid about from that famous YT channel Kurzgesagt.

We still have a long way to go. I totally messed up my estimates back then. I thought this story would just be 40-50k in length, but I'm glad I ditched the word count since I love exploring further this story. We definitely already passed the half-way point so I'm guessing another 20 or so chapters to write? (don't quote on me on these estimates!) ^^


Revision History:

- Originally published on Mar. 21, 2020