The Surface: Above the left wrist
1:30p
It was cold. The hair follicle Lindi leaned against did little to block the wind. Frank had drastically changed his lifestyle. Currently fixing a gutter, Stoma couldn't have picked a worst day. Though maybe that was his plan.
At some point Shaine had wrapped his sweatshirt around her but even that did almost nothing. No wonder Thrax practically lived in his coat. Lindi thought. Was this how the virus felt? If so, good god. She happen to look up, her boyfriend staring at her.
"What?"
"You're still cold."
"I'm fine." Lindi shifted, hoping she could mask her shivers. What the hell kind of RNA strain was she infected with as a baby? She had seen many microbes, some barely clothed at times and none of them shook from being cold.
Just how close am I to Thrax's genealogy?
The fibers in her back ached.
"That's it!" Shaine hissed.
"No!" Lindi reached for him but missed, her hand tight and also hurting.
"Hey Asshole!"
Shaine could see Nail and Liq puffing up, the egotistical shits still thinking they were somebody in this body. Behind his two unimpressive bodyguards, Stoma stood. Slowly, the politician turned, already bored by the teenager confronting him.
"I don't know what you hope to gain but you're not gonna win."
Stoma smirked.
"I always do."
The cell glanced around, the outside world looming, so big. Shaine followed the cell's gaze, guessing the psychopathic cell's thoughts.
"Thrax has body jumped before, and in case you forgot, he survived it multiple times." Shaine took a step forward; Nail and Liq tensing. "And if you think he's too chickenshit to get up here and annihilate you, you're delusional!"
The smirk turned into grin.
"My dear child. He kills a citizen of Frank, the immunity to the crimes he committed will be revoked. He'll get that cytokine shot I can assure you."
"Inside the body."
That smile faltered slightly. It was Shaine's turn to grin.
"If he kills a citizen inside the body. I'd imagine it's fair game up here on the surface, especially for three enemies of the body." Shaine couldn't help himself. "Moron."
Nail was first to make a noise of indignation.
"Don't listen to the brat. He's nothing but a stupid sixteen year old." Nail unholstered a gun. "Get back over to your microbic bitch."
It was quick and perhaps one of the stupidest things Shaine Flavum ever did in his life. But it wasn't the first time he assaulted an officer. The punch took Nail down, but the T-cell was up quick enough. With a roar the T-cell grabbed ahold of the teen, squeezing his throat. The teenager fought but Nail was stronger. Then a searing pain caused Nail to lose his grip, his nuclei sending an involuntary message to let go. The girl was there. That microbic bitch. There was no expression as she stared, her hand flamed hot not unlike that El Muerte rojo virus. A perfect red hot imprint of her hand on his arm.
"Get off him."
There was a moment of confusion. How could the girl do that with those cuffs? The answer was she couldn't unless they weren't on. Nail spied them laying partially melted. Even Stoma was stunned as the follicle burned, the keratin visibly splintering, irritating.
The ground upheaved, knocking everyone over. Still winded from being strangled, Shaine stared up at the sky, then his eyes widened.
"Shit!"
He rolled to his feet, grabbing Lindi, the two landing in a follicle as the right hand came down smacking.
"Don't let go!" He yelled, hoping she heard him. He was sure she did as she gripped the hair. Then the tremors stopped. For a moment, time froze and then an intense feeling of vertigo hit the coronavirus. Pulling himself out the divot, Shaine had just enough time to pull Lindi up out of their hole before he doubled over puking.
"You okay?"
Shaine jerked his head.
"We live through this, I'm never coming to the surface again."
Lindi looked around.
"Where are they?"
Shaine coughed on the excess fluid in his mouth.
"Who?"
"Stoma and his assholes." Lindi turned in a circle. "Where are they?"
…..
Cerebellum Hospital
1:35pm
Thrax didn't feel too bad about melting the door handle of the ICU room. He'd pay the damages if needed but he didn't need anyone interrupting him. Nothing had changed, if anything the numbers were looking grimmer. Thrax sat in a seat, studying the virus who had helped bring him into the world. My father.
Slowly, the virus picked up a phlebotomy needle and tube.
"I don't know if this is going to work." He murmured. "Probably some witch crap. But it's worth a try. And if it works…you're going to help me raze this body to the ground if I have to. She's worth it and it should be to you too."
He watched impassively as black plasma leaked from arm to tube. He didn't know how much was needed. That chance encounter with the female virus so long ago, Thrax had been too unnerved by her to pay attention to the nitty gritty details.
He pulled the needle, popped the top of the tube and used a syringe. The black plasma pushed into the T-port ever so smooth. Thrax watched it flow and disappear into the older virus's hand. He waited though he didn't know what he was looking for.
A stinging in his eyes, he turned, wiping them. The hallucinations from the cytokine gas had finally subsided, only an occasional cough and eye irritation was left, though enough to piss him off. A hand twitched.
Thrax paused. Maybe it was too soon to think the hallucinations were done. Then he saw it, Daemon's left claw moved again. On the monitor, the numbers were stabilizing. Thrax wasn't surprised often.
"Shit. It worked."
Thrax didn't know how long he stood there, watching the monitor show the virus stabilize, expecting it to be a rally. Any moment the virus was going to tank and there'd be a shitshow as the doctors and nurses realized they couldn't open the door to Rm 122. But there was no crash. Even the greyish membrane wasn't quite as grey; Thrax could see healthy purple digits beneath that sickly color.
Thrax laid a letter down and left.
…
The world was a haze… glassy.
He coughed, his jaw flexing as he began to fight whatever was shoved down his throat. A reflexive grab, he missed his target and hit something, blasting a noise so aggravating without thinking he stabbed the offending device with his claw, silencing it immediately.
There was a flurry of movement around the room. Shouts of alarm. Clattering. Where the fuck was he? He blinked hard with zero help of clearing his vision.
He had to get up and get out of whatever the hell he was in. He sat up, that damned thing in his throat tightening painfully.
"No!"
"Get the melatonin!"
"And who the fuck is going to stab him with it, you!?"
The words made little sense. The voices all shrill.
Then one voice cut through the rest…..
"Get out! Out!"
"But-!"
"I said out!"
The voice was loud. Too loud for the person it belonged to. So loud for someone so small.
"DAEMON!"
He paused.
Christ… like a goddamn naughty kid caught being a shit in class. Daemon had been one of those, the few times he darkened a school classroom.
It was Grace Estrogen. And she was really close, not at all scared of his claw lit the brightest he had seen in months.
"You going to put that out?"
But she wasn't looking at him, her eyes were glued to the vitals sign monitor. He was sure she wasn't stunned often and yet he could see she was blown away by the 180 his body had suddenly achieved.
"Relax. I'm going to take the tube out. Lay back."
He listened, sinking back and hating as the tube dragged up his throat, but then it was out.
"I don't understand." She was focused on the vitals again. "You were dying. So close." She glanced at him. "Do you regenerate?"
Daemon coughed on the irritation.
"No."
He noticed the T-port in his hand, strangely shriveled. But what was stranger was the black sludge congealed at the port itself. He flexed his right hand unconsciously, feeling something crinkle. It was a paper folded.
"What the hell?" Grace took notice of his left hand, namely the state of the T-port. "Did your claw do this? Fucking idiots. I've always told them to put it in Thrax's right hand-"
"No. It didn't."
Grace glanced up, seeing the paper the virus was reading.
On it read:
Your fourth chance.
….
Precinct 13
1:38pm
"I've survived the surface before Thrax in case you forgot."
"Barely if I remember correctly." Thrax snapped. "I'm not waiting Veins."
The Precinct 13 chief didn't even take his eyes off a digital map of the hand. Someone had phoned in a tip. Three adults and two kids arrived on the surface through a papercut.
"You will if I tell you to."
"Then fire me."
Thrax stood only to have Boone block the doorway.
"Is that the thanks you give for Veins and the entire department, including me, standing up to the most powerful assholes in this body, for you-?"
Thrax had a rather rude retort ready except Veins cut him off.
"Osmosis, shut up." The T-cell wasn't done as he glanced at Thrax. "And you, sit, now."
The audacity of a T-cell telling him what to do flared such a wave of rage, it caught Thrax by surprise. And Veins wasn't stupid, he saw it.
"I'm not telling you again, Thrax. We have that fire-proof cell in the back."
Thrax didn't hide his anger as he sat heavily in a chair just as a BEEP sounded from the map.
"Good luck getting me into it."
"The hell was that?" Jones asked.
A reading came up on the screen, one Veins hadn't ever seen before… he paused. Except once.
"Is it a fire?" Boone took a step forward. "I've never seen that code before."
"I have." Veins said. "When you came to town."
Thrax straightened, no longer harboring murderous thoughts.
"Lindi."
…..
The Surface: Above the left wrist
1:38pm (Same time)
"Where did they go?"
"I don't care. Hope they were obliterated by Frank's slap. Let's get back to that cut." Shaine grabbed Lindi's hand.
"Wait." Lindi put on the brakes. "This is too easy."
"What is? Frank just reacted to you burning that hair. It was perfect timing Lind. Let's go."
Lindi shook her head.
"No."
"You want to stay on the surface? You're going to freeze probably to death… not even Thrax can get past that one long term."
"I don't want to stay on the surface!" Lindi snapped. "Wasn't it you whose always told me to listen to my instincts? My RNA viral instincts! I'm telling you we shouldn't run."
Silence.
"You're right."
Lindi could feel her face flaming hot, her eyes puffy the same feeling she got every time she was angry. It had been a while since she felt that kind of rage.
"Doesn't mean we can't make it difficult for them."
She glanced up, already calming down, emotionally drained.
"We're kids aren't we? Aren't I always the pain in the ass? What's to stop me from dragging you along with me?"
"This isn't a game."
"No." Shaine agreed. "But it can be one hell of a reminder to not fuck with Thrax Rojo's kid…. I have an idea."
…..
Cerebellum Hospital
1:45pm
"What are you going to do?"
"I have a few ideas."
"Such as?"
The virus had a strange look on his face as he surveyed Grace.
"That politician is on the surface."
"Yeah. With Lindi." Grace took out her phone.
She had called Thrax five times. The asshole had yet to pick up.
Daemon jerked a nod.
"There's nothing to stop Stoma from getting back into the body. There's still some places he can hole up that will take weeks to find."
"Everything is shut down." Gace gestured to the muted TV. "There's blockades on every opening. No one can get in or out."
"Frank's been mighty ambitious lately. The way I hear it, he's clumsy as fuck. Getting cuts left and right."
"Yeah?"
"They can't all be manned."
"Okay."
Daemon pulled his coat on.
"I'm taking a bead out of the hypothalamus."
The shock came quick and hot.
"Excuse me?"
Grace was reeling. Oh my god. I've been duped.
How many times had she read and heard how psychopathic, charismatic and chameleon-like El Muerte rojo viruses were? Living with Thrax for so long, it had made her too trusting.
Because you're a cell Grace.
Thrax was right. She was a cell. And cells could be incredibly naïve. Naïve and stupid. She had to stop Daemon before anything could happen. But how? Daemon wasn't 100% but he wasn't ailing anymore either.
"You going to ask me my line of thinking?"
The virus was still watching her.
"Does it matter?"
Grace took a step back. She couldn't hide her apprehension. She should have let him die the first day she saw him.
"I'd say so." Daemon grew amused. "You can take a breather, Grace. I'm not showing you my true colors."
He passed her to the window. In the distance, Cerebellum Hall.
"Every bead in that strand has a function. Some will make the host miserable if disrupted, others…" He glanced at her. "-will kill the host if fucked with, sear the body from the inside out. Thrax chose one that nearly killed you all. I'm sure there's surveillance somewhere around here that has the day he invaded the hypothalamus… shows his short reign of terror."
"I thought taking any one of those beads can kill all of us."
"If you remove it from the helix chamber, yes."
"Simply opening the helix chamber can be devastating, especially with only two years between these events."
"That's why I won't be killing the technicians."
Grace felt her insides flip.
She was having a hard time separating the Thrax now from the Thrax then. He had killed everyone in that room that day. And so many more in the aftermath. She was one year out of residency the day Frank DeTorre almost died. And Cerebellum Hospital had been overloaded. Even when part of the hospital caught fire she didn't leave.
"It'd be treason of me to not notify Immunity of this, no matter your…intentions."
"Yeah."
But if everything went according to Daemon's apparent benevolent plan the term hero would be thrown around, not murderer or accomplice in her case.
"I'll go with you."
The amusement the virus had vanished.
"That's not a good idea."
"Why? If you're not planning on killing Frank you shouldn't care."
"I do care, Grace. If someone shoots first and asks later, I don't want you in the cross-fire."
"Too late." Grace went to the door opening it. "Let's go. You're not getting out of here without me anyway."
The virus hesitated but then seemed to relent.
"Fine."
Grace waited for him to leave.
"We're making a detour first."
….
Moments later
"Where are we?"
Grace didn't answer as she waved her badge at a keypad; she stepped back for Daemon.
The room was freezing, it was a laboratory.
Grace passed him, going to a freezer. He watched as she pulled a syringe out. The liquid inside, a gently pulsing blue. She turned to him, taking a breath.
"I'm trusting you, Daemon. But I will use this if I have to." She paused. "And it wouldn't be the first time I've used it either."
The dark room seemed to envelope his gold eyes as he surveyed her.
"Have you ever killed before, Grace Estrogen?"
"No."
"You're an Epithelial." A tiny bit of amusement returned in the virus. "Epithelial don't kill."
She stared directly at him.
"This Epithelial will, if I have to."
Daemon sobered, his gaze ticking to the cytokine.
"I believe you."
He went to the door, opening it.
"But you don't need it."
Grace didn't move, her eyes hardening.
"Prove it."