Quite a bit of foreshadowing in this one.
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The Contagion
Working for Alad V has a reputation of being hazardous to one's health. The mad scientist of the Board of Directors is infamous for his disregard of such petty concerns as worker safety, even amongst the Corpus. If not for the usefulness of his inventions, or his status as a convenient partial enemy of all factions, the Board would have had him terminated long ago.
But Chairman Bek has elected to let the madman live and cause chaos of all kinds within the Origin System. So much the better if market chaos is one of those, for in chaos lies opportunity.
You have the misfortune of serving both of these unforgiving masters, and in times of rest, you question which one is more worthy of fear.
One does not become the Chairman of the Board, the cutthroat of cutthroats, without vision or ruthlessness. Frohd Bek, conniving scoundrel though he may be, obtained his seat through the most legitimate means possible for a Corpus: by taking major risks and crushing competitors underfoot in business ventures, rather than outright theft or scamming the way Nef Anyo conducts himself.
But Alad V…though the Grineer, the Tenno and even his fellow colleagues despise him more than they do each other, he has thrived in spite of their attempts to hinder or eliminate him. Naturally, the same cannot be said for his subordinates. You have witnessed firsthand the disregard the man has for the safety of his employees.
Fortunately, you have made your way up to become one of his project overseers. Yours is a more cushy assignment, running a containment facility far off the beaten path which houses items and experiments that are dormant or inactive. It also allows you the freedom to report to Bek on the dealings of his troublesome colleague.
Recently, you learned that Alad V has been hunting for warframe components. One large shipping container has been secured to the point of paranoia. Alad V has forbidden anyone except himself from opening the thing, and your best covert efforts have yielded no headway into learning what is inside. All you have learned is that the container has a life-support system, which implies that its cargo is a prisoner of some kind.
You reported as much to Bek via your hidden communications, and are currently waiting for an acknowledgement as you look over the site surveillance in your office. An environmental alarm begins blinking on the console. You order a team to examine the area. Among the mad scientist's demands is the condition that all his laboratories be kept pristine, lest contamination affect his experiments. The damned alarms are extremely sensitive, and constantly go off as a result.
Minutes pass, and you wait for the word from your team, but it never comes. And now, there are multiple alarms going off. You start paying more attention. One is an anomaly, multiple indicates something wrong.
However, just as you move to activate the site alarm protocols, the console shorts out in a flash, with the arc flash flipping you over as you instinctively push your chair backwards. You scramble up and quickly examine the console. No good. The unit is fried.
You exit your office and begin to trace the cables, searching for the source of the short, and you wind up at the site generator unit. Just this morning, the unit was pristine and in good working order. But now, something is eating at it. It almost resembles mold, and it is spreading over the components and conduits very fast. The plastic insulated sections almost melt away with an acrid bitter odor, while the metal turns pitted and sloughs away in flakes. The generator is literally falling apart before your eyes.
A door is blown apart, and the site security team enters in a rush. Naturally, in the event of total power failure, their first and only priority is to secure the facility against attack. The officers report to you on the situation. The area in question has gone black. No response from the team investigating. Others are regrouping and withdrawing to the warehouse.
You nod and order them to set up the defenses before noticing that one technician is reaching out toward the generator. You try to shout a warning, but the man has already touched the non-functional piece of equipment.
The effect is immediate. The "mold" jumps onto the unfortunate man's hand and begins eating through his suit. Panicking, the man stumbles backward and flails against his colleague, spreading the mold as flecks fly off and land on more team members. You note that in the space of twenty seconds, you can already see the bone of the man's fingers exposed to the air before even the ossified material begins to decay.
The chaos spreads rapidly, too rapidly for the team officers to control it. In a panic, one officer triggers his nullifier, and miraculously, the field kills the mold inside.
The affected personnel, seven in all, are immediately quarantined while you struggle to get a grasp on the situation. Whatever that "mold" is, it ate through machinery, caused component damage, and is clearly lethal to living tissue. But somehow, the void-based nullifier system protects against it.
Void-based…like the void magic of the Tenno…
Could it be that a Tenno is here? And locked inside that storage container, they are seeking one of their own held prisoner?
As if in answer, another door is blown inward, and a new figure enters. This cannot be mistaken for anything other than a Tenno. It appears "hefty" and feminine, and its skin has the same shade as the "mold" that destroyed the generator.
The officers order the team to open fire. A hailstorm of searing energy smashes into the form of the Tenno, hammering it until it explodes. You narrow your eyes behind your visor. Something is wrong. Since when do Tenno go down that easy?
The officer with the nullifier suddenly gasps and chokes. You spin around in time to see his helmet go flying, trailing blood behind it.
There stands the Tenno with an arm pulled back, and the tip of a fleshy whip sailing backwards over its shoulder. The ancient warrior used the distraction to get in close and decapitate the only source of protection against that damned mold your team had.
Continuing the motion of its arm, the Tenno brings the handle of the whip near its left shoulder, before snapping it across. The tip of the weapon slices through the air, and cuts into the protective suits of multiple team members. Because of their personal shields, they are only scratched. But mere scratches are enough.
The injured members in question scream in pain as the visible cuts immediately turn necrotic, dropping their weapons and clutching the affected areas. Another slash, and now it is your turn to feel the pain. It's as if the whip is coated in a neurotoxin.
As your nervous system begins to shut down, and your body begins to decay along with that of your comrades, the Tenno ignores your suffering and moves toward the container. Your body won't even let you grab your sidearm so you can take advantage of having its back turned to you. After a moment, the Tenno inputs a security code and opens the box. You see the barest glimpse of its contents.
Another Tenno, strapped to a gurney. This one appears to have been debrided of its skin. One arm twitches feebly, and a faint sound comes from the occupant.
The screeching of metal echoes in the warehouse as the first Tenno rips apart the restraints holding down its comrade, and then it raises the pathetic-looking shape and cradles it tenderly in its arms. In spite of your situation, you can help but think of how the Tenno looks more like a worried mother than a terrifying supersoldier.
However, that motherly aura soon vanishes, and an almost palpable raging undercurrent of energy fills the room. The tendrils that resemble hair around the Tenno's shoulders flail about as it frees one hand from its precious cargo and gathers energy in its palm. You close your eyes, knowing that the Tenno is about to exact vengeance against you and your team.
A cloud erupts from the Tenno's form, obscuring everything in the room with a toxic miasma. The soft tissue in your eyes begins to liquefy, and your breath of surprise becomes the last one you will ever take. The thin and delicate tissue of your lungs almost immediately disintegrates as the miasma pours down your throat. The decay of your body rapidly accelerates, and just before your eardrums turn into an organic goo, you feel your helmet simply fall apart and expose your head to the poisonous air.
Still, all things considered, this is a quick death. Better than becoming Alad V's next experiment.
Up next is Vauban, then Nova.
