Chairman Creutzfeldt Mao of the Regional Biotechnological Commission of Umbracrest was a curious man who loved the simple pleasures in life.
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If looking down a powerful microscope at a deadly disease that had killed thousands was simple or pleasurable at all. Mao thought his little creations were absolutely splendid. The one in particular that he was looking at through the microscope was an enhanced version of a virus called Eastern Haemorrhagic Fever type B, otherwise known as the Red Death.
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The Commision had other rather frightening microorganisms, though. Mao was fascinated by the TSEs, or transmissible spongiform encephalopathy. The little Prions were not even alive and yet could cause untold damage. They had samples of all the fun ones.
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Mao was a Master Adept, having graduated from the Academy of the Adept in the field of microbiology. He led the Board of Directors that was in charge of the same organisation that had made biological superweapons.
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But alas, he had a task to do. He did not have time to examine the specimens. The Red Death was to be deployed against an Ætharch in exchange for two seats at the Coalition Against the Æbyss's table, Mao thought this was an acceptable offer. But a final test with the full strength virus had to be done. It had been programmed to only kill Supreme Meritocrat Berote to avoid an outbreak in Aquiloria.
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The test subject was not a willing one. The cultist had made the mistake of visiting one of the many labs under the justification of the commision. He wore only simple underwear so that the effects may be put on full display.
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Perhaps the virus was sentient and knew it was being watched because it did not disappoint the Chairman in the slightest.
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The unfortunate Cultist doubled over and regurgitated a stream of blood onto the containment cell – there was no worry of it spreading as this particular strain of the Red Death could only be delivered via needle.
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The researchers began to mutter to each other. “As we now know...Hematemesis occurs shortly before bleeding from the eyes.”
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And they were right. The test subject was currently coughing up blood. His eyes were dyed crimson as they wept tears of blood that streaked down his face to leave rivers of deep red.
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Everywhere that could bleed... did. But the man was nearing the climax. Either his organs would fail due to lack of blood supply, or his brain would haemorrhage, and he would collapse. The former was more violent and painful than the latter, in addition to being far rarer.
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The Cultist suffered a nosebleed (“Ah! Epistaxis is happening” jabbered the various researchers excitedly)
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He dropped to the floor. His body twitched and then ceased to move at all.
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The Biotechnological Commission of Umbracrest was always the largest of the “Biotech labs” in Umbracrest even after the Civil War. It had only grown in size like a tumour when it began to absorb the other research organisations in the West in a process jokingly called both “Organisational Phagocytosis” and “Lab Eating”
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The Commission contained Nexus Biochemical Industries, BioGen Labs, and the Helix Corporation. It employed an army of scientists in various branches of biology: anatomy, biochemistry, bioengineering, biotechnology, epidemiology, microbiology...
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The two big ones were disease and engineering related. Surrounding Chairman Creutzfeldt Mao was a small army of Virologists eager to take notes on the infamous and so very feared Red Death.
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Mao was pleased. He called for what the Biotechnological Commission called a Biological Deployment Specialist. A more apt term would have been assassin. “Fetch me a BDS, there's a good lad.” He rumbled at a nearby researcher, who went scurrying off to find one.
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Mao was the Chairman of the Commission Board: everyone had to obey him as the highest authority in the organisation.
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An assassin arrived. He was a remarkably oily and greasy man with a devious look to him.
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“EHF type B is to be used against Supreme Meritocrat Berote at the earliest opportunity you get. Travel to Artè and kill the smug bastard then report back to me. CATAE can trust us to get the job done.” Mao snapped at the BDS.
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The assassin nodded. He was given a needle with a thick cap on the end of it. The woman that gave him it was intimidated by nonetheless gave the expected warning to the BDS, “D-Do not let this jab you, or your death shall be an unpleasant one.”
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He gave her a toothless grin.
Berote deserved worse if Chairman Creutzfeldt Mao was honest with himself, but there were very few diseases in Empyrea as feared as the Red Death.
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Mao chuckled to himself. A jovial act made sinister by what he had just done.
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Now, all he had to do was wait.
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