March 19, 2004

8:17 pm

The Ruins

She sat behind a moss-licked, stone wall, catching a few dusty gasps of air while she waited. There was a shallow gash in her side and, a few inches down from the black Teflon vest fastening to her chest, she could feel where a piece of rock had inched under her lycra cat suit. She wiggled her side a few times, desperate to relive some of the ache, but soon, not much to her surprise, found it made too much noise.

It was too quiet where she sat. Every few seconds, somewhere hidden between the building’s broken, decaying skeleton, she would hear, or much rather feel through her back, the pulsing moans of disintegration. She didn’t, however, hear any footsteps, or breathing, or, say, the metallic click of an automatic 9mm.

That didn’t mean her enemy wasn’t out there.

Flexing her tired legs against the ground, she inched her back up the stony partition. A crown of scarlet hair, a pale freckled forehead beaded with sweat, two blazingly green eyes grew up out of the seemingly camouflaged rubble. Autumn saw nothing through the expanse of sun-bleached stone and lecherous ivy. Sure, the afternoon breeze would shift the foliage every few seconds, casting spotted, patterned shade on the uneven ground, but she had learned to differentiate between shadows of leaves moved by wind and shadows moved by a human body.

Thankfully, at that moment, all she saw was wind.

She took a deep breath and slinked back down, lowering her pistol to her strong thighs. Eight bullets were left, but she still had two other cartridges locked into the cross-belt on her back. As she waited, she reached a hand back to check each. They were there. Her eight inch steel-bladed knife? It was there as well.

I just kicked the shit out of Autumn!

Not this time. This time, payback was in order. This time there was live ammunition. Autumn was not going to loose, no matter how weary, how injured, or how drained she was. Of course, this drill had been deemed as a mere training exercise, but she wouldn’t take it that lightly. This was revenge, pure and simple.

The sun had fallen from it’s zenith as she started to move. Muscles built up over years of preparation stretched against the black fabric of her suit. With every inch forward, she would pause and listen for something that didn’t sound right, that made her uneasy. The rustling of leaves. The clatter of tumbling stones. Footsteps. Metal. Breathing. Larger shadows had begun to grow over the old ruins, and the ostensibly endless world of tarnished beige rock was broken down into unrecognizable splotches of black. Moments later, she reached an empty room. The ceiling had caved through over years of decomposition and misfired target training, so it took considerable time to traverse the boulder-ridden floor. As she touched the far wall with a gloved hand, she slowly stuck her head out the carved window.

Nothing of interest.

It was at these moments when Autumn’s thoughts would begin to wander. Brilliant on all accounts, but effortlessly bored, the redhead’s mind would become automated. She lurked through the next two rooms on autopilot, thinking of something else, of her win against her opponent, the look in their eyes when the score was settled. Today, though, she thought of Rhia, of Persia, of that stupid phone call that had hopelessly riled them up.

I doubt he meant anything by it. He’s been really stressed lately.

She slipped through a small crack in the wall, careful not to catch the back of her vest on a clump of hanging roots. After a silent step into the room, a quick look around the dusty, weeded interior, Autumn bent down to her knees, feeling her way forward with an outstretched palm. She stopped at the edge of a shadow, peering up into the sky at a rocky overhang from the second story. This had been her goal since she started: To get to the last remaining portion of the building that boasted a second level, albeit as broken and damaged as it was. From there, she would be able to see the entire ruin, the mansion, and possibly Sofia and Rhia sitting a fair distance away cleaning their suits. But only if the fading sunlight allowed.

I’m sorry, but I think I heard wrong. You’re right. I jump to conclusions too quickly. I’m sorry…

Immediately cooled by the outcropped rock, she was able to cross the wide hallway with ease. As she neared the base, she reached out a hand and parted a thick curtain of ivy, twisting and snapping the vines noiselessly to force her way through. Beneath the flora drape, the temperature dropped considerably. Instead of the heated, slick stones that lined a decent amount of the ruins, she was met with a cool, rough path of rock lining the walkway to the base of the wall. Inside this chilled gap, Autumn was unnoticeable. With that in mind, she moved at a swifter gait.

What about Estelle…

Gun now sheathed, her hands slipped overtop a root-infested crack, the edge of her boot forced its way between two adjacent bricks, and she pushed. With a breath, the redhead started upwards, ducking her head downwards to shield her eyes from the leaves scratching at her face. The first story climb was within the hushed safety of the ivy, but she soon broke free of this coverage and reentered the humid, sticky air. Shifting all her weight down onto her legs, she quickly jumped up towards a large, looming bay window. Only three fingers made contact with the shattered rock lining the large bay window. The rock groaned and shifted down. Her feet dug into the wall, her free arm building momentum as it swung forward. Before the stone plummeted downwards, she had clawed another handhold into the window’s ledge.

We tell her when she returns home. Immediately.

All the power now in her chest, she heaved herself up, clutching at the slippery, sun-backed stones. A leg lifted itself up from below, rubber set foot onto the small, broken ledge. She quickly shifted an arm to the outside of her leather sole, her eyes watching the ground directly below her for movement. Balancing against the wind, she brought up another leg, setting it beside it’s twin. With the wide, open expanse of the Warren estate as her only witness, as the earthy scent of wind rushed up around her battered, sweating body, she pushed skyward.

It was in that moment that her stomach twisted in ecstasy, that her eyes blacked and everything became silent and meaningless. As she straightened both legs, as she raised her torso, pushed back her shoulders, lifted her head high, she thought, sensed, felt the very quintessence of herself. The adrenaline was so thick in her body that all she could feel was personal triumph. Would she fall? Would she loose her balance? The morbid answers to such questions fueled every ounce within her. Only when her body stopped moving, when she opened her eyes and stared out into nothing but horizon did a shiver course through her limbs. The feeling of such height, of nothing below her to catch her fall, of being alive only because her muscles could balance against a thin slit of rock was unbelievable.

Her feet turned out, steadying themselves as she moved forward. With no visible hitch, Autumn walked to the corner where both walls met. Poising her right foot on the corner, she uncapped her firearm, knocked it against her belt for good luck, and started to turn. She twisted her body slowly, eying stone, eyeing shadows, eying the littering rubble of what was left of the ancestors of Estelle, until…

Gottcha.

Mixed in with the debris and dark, block-like shadows, was one that stood out. As the wind blew through the wreckage, this particular shadow stayed motionless.

For only a second, that is.

It moved slowly at first, but soon picked up speed. The rocky partition it had briefly used for a cover was hurdled. When it landed, there was no dust, no noise, no disturbance of rock or plant. There, silently hunched over, head dipping back and forth to peer around her surroundings, was Autumn’s enemy.

“Easy.” Autumn breathed under her breath, a smirk obscuring her words. She aimed the loaded 9mm at the figure’s vested chest, one hand cradling the gun’s base, the other soothing the trigger. “Marie, you’re getting stupider.”

The shot echoed throughout the small building like a storm, screeching and howling its way through the muggy, dense air. When it didn’t hit it’s target, Autumn immediately realized what she had done wrong.

She hadn’t compensated for the wind.

“Fuck.” Autumn mouthed as she allowed the recoil to push her back. She watched Marie jerk her head up at the sound, only to be sprayed in the face by stone shards. As Autumn deliberately tipped back off the edge, she swung her arm up to catch her hair at the nap of her neck. If Marie had not already seen her falling, she didn’t want the fiery red of her hair to be a beacon.

The moment she hit the second story’s floor, Autumn threw herself against the inner wall. A broken doorframe was directly beside her, and she used it as her knothole, immediately tilting a curious eye out into the sunshine. Another stony balcony, this one partially broken and falling away to the first story, lined the outside of the doorframe. Looking past that, Autumn smiled as she surveyed below. Sure enough, Marie had ducked back behind her former partition, the same telltale shadow illustrated out on the ground. The only thing that irked the redhead was that her position had been given away. But, there were ways around that. She stepped out into the rectangular hollow of the door, smiling as she secured her gun in both hands and aimed.

“Let’s hope this hits the vest--”

She paused when Marie’s shadow moved. Something slide out of the brunette’s fingers, swirling and twisting its way to a stop against the slick, tan surface of stone inches from her shadow. As it moved, Autumn jerked back from the shine. For a second blind, she threw herself back into the shade of the room.

It took a moment for her vision to clear. The sapphire and violet haze that inked its way around her vision kept her briefly vulnerable, but she made up for her sightlessness by listening. She heard the chew of hard leather against the cobbled ground as Marie sprinted forward; she heard a breathy grunt as the brunette leapt atop a large pile of debris directly below her. She heard every crunch, every swish of fabric, ever slap of palm to stone as Marie climbed her way to the second level.

“Was that a mirror?” The exchange was morbidly humorous. Both women were pressed back against the same wall, resting their feet on the same floor, inches away from actual realization.

“Yeah.” Marie let out a raw, innocent laugh that traveled through the thin partition easily. “ Compact.”

“That was fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“Wasn’t it?”

There was silence, and Marie turned her head to the side, cautiously eyeing the doorway. She inched towards it, careful to keep the toes of her boots away from the edge. Once she reached the doorframe, with nothing in vision, no redhead, no freckled face, she spoke up. “Autumn?”

“What?”

Marie looked up, throwing herself backwards just as Autumn, balancing once again atop the broken rooftop, emptied another two bullets at her target.Two smoking, quarter-sized holes drilled in the rock floor was the telltale sign that she had missed again.

Marie instantly tumbled back, landing solidly onto her feet as she aimed the nozzle of her gun towards the sky. Autumn had already jumped forward, so she was met with nothing but glare from the setting sun.

“You’re getting slow, Marie.”

The brunette silently slipped down onto the first story through a cavernous hole in the floor as the dry, echoing laughter of her enemy met her ears. When she hit ground, she bent her knees completely, muffling the shock of the landing. She had come to the conclusion, aided quite nicely with a nose full of smoke and itching eyes, that the Element of Surprise wasn’t on her side that day.

“Maybe when it has to do with gunplay.“ The brunette shouted back. She switched directions, starting around the outside of the building. “Not in hand-to-hand.”

“I’ll give ya that.” Autumn didn’t muffle her movements. Instead, when she rappelled down the wall, she made it brashly known. “You’re faster with your hands, but sometimes you can’t get that close to an enemy to kill them.”

Marie didn’t respond. Instead, she inched closer, using the sound of footfalls to distinguish where her opponent was. Around the next corner, a small rain of dust fluttered to the ground. Marie stretched herself tall and waited.

“That’s how we should practice.” Autumn laughed as she neared the ground, knowing fair well where Marie was standing. The girl didn’t seem to understand the whole shadow ordeal. “I’ll fight hand-to-hand, you fight with a gun. We’ll see who wins.”

When the 9mm was thrown to the side, deliberately to cross Marie’s field of vision, Autumn smirked at the shadow. It jerked, retreated, and then paused. When it finally mustered up the courage to go for the weapon, Autumn lunged.

But missed.

Marie had dove forward, somersaulting close to the ground. As she neared the gun, she clutched it within her fingers, pressing the hot metal against her chest, and flexing her stomach to complete the tumble. With her head now up, she leapt, much like a frog, behind the closest coverage.

Autumn had missed her target by mere inches. She had felt the moving air against her palm, had felt Marie’s hair slip out of her grasp. She too flipped her body before she landed, but stayed in the open, a scowl on her face from the awareness that her plan didn’t work. As she slowly stood, cracking the stress out of her neck, an empty gun was tossed up from behind the rock. The handle’s inside gleamed menacingly; there were no bullets, no magazine inside. Moments later, a sugary laugh filled the redhead’s ears.

“I liked that.”

Autumn turned to the voice, inching her way towards the empty weapon.

“Did you?”

“Yeah.” Another light sigh. “It was cute.”

Autumn swept an arm down to gather the dusty, empty gun in her hand. Little did Marie know, she had two other magazines hooked to her back. “I find it funny that you’re hiding when I’m the one without a gu--”

Autumn froze as she patted her sides. Where there should have been a snug, strapped-in 9mm clip, there was nothing.

“Hm?” The laughter that erupted from Marie, from behind the rock, was priceless. “Daijoubu?”

The redhead scowled as she heard her friend slap a palm to her knee in jest. “You seem to have paused in your little self-empowering speec--”

Marie jerked forward as something hard stung the back of her skull. Seconds later, the same sensation ripped through her lower neck.Then the tip of her left ear.

With a cry, she pressed herself into the ground, covering her head as a small rock whizzed by.

“What the fuck are you doi--” She bit her lower lip as she was struck again. Her arm slapped against the boulder, pushing herself away from the onslaught. As she moved away, she raised the gun, firing a single shot into the air. It sliced into the next hurdled stone, cracking it cleanly into a small puff of dust. Marie crouched around the next wall as another handful of stones struck and chipped at the partition.

Another rock. Another shot. Another small puff of dust.

Marie tossed aside the spent clip, inserting one of the two she had picked from Autumn’s belt. With a breath, she sprinted towards the second story overhand, escalating up a pile of granite. Her free hand reached overhead, clamping down on the overhand. In one fluid leap, she straddled the surface and stepped out of sight. Autumn was right behind her, scaling the disintegrating story like it was a flight of stairs. Once up, the redhead barely ducked as a knee flew past her stomach. She banked rightvas Marie swiveled around the second story doorframe, inching sideways on the overhang before mounting the wall and climbing further upwards.

Much less balanced, and visibly shaken by the height, Marie was forced to spider both her legs and arms on the topmost ledge. She moved with caution, straightening up every so often to safely pass where the walls met. At the far left, a few feet away from the wall, was a broken column that ran like a slide down to the ground. If she could get there, if she could somehow jump onto it without falling, she could get a far enough distance away to make a shot.

And win…

Instead, her attention was pulled to her rear. Autumn’s hands had just grasped the ledge, and her powerful arms were pulling her up onto the rim. When her head slowly rose into sight, Marie saw the menacing shine of blood red lips as they curved around sharp, wide teeth.

In a last ditch effort, Marie emptied four bullets in a crescent swoop. All four bullets missed Autumn, easily, embarrassingly. The redhead’s laugh was wildly amusing as she heaved her torso, then a leg, up onto the edge.

“Who were you even aiming at--“

She was silenced by a billowing crack. With the entirety of her weight on the outside of the wall, it started to splinter and move. Slowly at first, but with a sudden jerk that caused Autumn to loose her footing, it slid away from the bullet holes, hurdling down towards the ground.

Marie, quiet surprised her desperate plan actually worked, remained silent as the deafening of wall and ground erupted below. She was about to celebrate, but suddenly scrunched her face up in a visually disturbing recollection of stupidity.

“Autumn?” She jumped down into the second story room, running to where the wall had fallen away. The cursing started innocently enough, but soon the words mixed under her breath, and new forms of blasphemy poured from her lips.

I killed her. She shifted her weight, sitting against the hole, and leaning forward. She didn’t want to jump and land directly on the rubble in fear of landing on her teammate. She screamed the redhead’s name again, eyeing the rubble. She saw nothing move, nothing stir. She heard no moans, no cries for help, not even the faint huffs of breath…

Wait.

To Marie’s utter surprise, she was pitched forward into the air by a swift nudge to her back. As she fell, she turned her neck to the side, and stared up into Autumn’s piercing, threatening eyes…

And the hollow of a 9mm gun barrel.

Two shots rang out, smacking full force into Marie’s chest. The Kevlar vest caught both, but pressed into her chest with alarming strength. The wind was automatically knocked out of her, and she instantly recoiling into a fetal position as she landed.

Fight Over.

Winner: Autumn Raselvich.

T ö d l i c h e K ü n s t e

6: 25 pm

Takatori Inc.

“The scientific community has been shaken by the loss of not only one major player in the biochemical field, but of the world’s leading supplier of nuclear technology, Takatori Reiji.” Brad Crawford shifted in his seat, shaking his head in amusement as he continued to read. “Apart from the alleged death of his daughter, Sofia, who was later rescued at the scene, the charred remains of Reiji-san’s assistant was said to have been found’.”

The American peered over the gray flap of newspaper, a chiding glare slowly growing in his eyes. He rubbed the ankle that rested against the bend of his knee, a cigarette dangling lazily, pregnant with ash, from his pale fingers.

“The charred remains of Reiji-san’s assistant was said to have been found.” The Marlboro was brought to his lips, and an orange tinge licked up the remaining inch of tobacco when he inhaled. “They don’t even list your name, Elise.”

If she looked at him from across the room, he didn’t take notice. Her lashes were of such an intense blackness, her irises the same, that he merely saw two dark orbs shift underneath a curtain of hair. He didn’t take his eyes off her as they sat there. A nervous tick from his teenage years, he chewed against the cigarette filter, flicking it into the nearest flower pot when he tasted gritty cinders.

“Ah, You’re going to be laid to rest tomorrow night.” He patted his chest pocket as he spoke, searching for another role of nicotine. He persisted in a muffled tone, his mouth occupied with another amber tip. “Remind me to put some roses down.”

She sat on the other side of the room, opposite him, but facing out onto the busy, car-choked roads of Roppongi. She was listening, as it was quite impossible to ignore the voluble American in such a quaint waiting room, but refused to waste her words on such trivial banter. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time. She would not allow him to ruin it for her.

“When was the last time you were here?”

She tilted her head towards the sound, only to find the dark hazel eyes of her companion gawping into her. Perhaps she would waste a few…

“I worked here.” She said it in such a venomous, mordant way that a bolt of adrenaline shot through her veins. As it tingled at the tips of her fingers and toes, she reminded herself to stay calm, polite. The dizzying effect slowly diminished, and her impassive composure returned. “It’s only been a few days since I’ve been here last.”

“No, I mean the labs.”

That was the whole point of their visit. That was the whole point of her being here, of her moving to Japan from the west. An internship, possibly a position to work in one of the fastest growing fields, biotechnology, had been more precious to her then the air she breathed. Still, at that moment, despite the months of what she had endured, despite the set backs, the sexism, the death of her employer, of his son, her dream, so deeply covered in disappointment and regret, was assuredly resurfacing.

“Hirofumi’s? Never.” She replied reluctantly. An awkward haze grew over her vision, but she blinked it away. A moment like this deserves nothing less of exuberance. No form of past regression was going to chain her down. “This will be my first time.”

“Are you excited?” He asked as he set the folded newspaper onto the white chair beside him. He rubbed his hands together, smudging the fine layer of gray ink off his fingers. The black fabric of his suit hid the smears as he wiped the rest onto his collar.

“I’ve been in other labs before.” She couldn’t allow herself to become excited. Despite the composed, sincere tone to his voice, she didn’t want to risk showing her anticipation. Crawford could easily make things happen out of spite. “Same thing, different place.”

He would have continued the conversation, as dull as it were, if the door to his left hadn’t opened. With the unsettling scent of stressed plastic and powdered latex trailing behind him, Hirofumi entered the employee’s waiting room of Takatori Incorporated.

“Mr. Crawford.” The two men, both westernized despite their current setting, shook hands in greeting. Hirofumi adjusted his thickly rimmed glasses as he spoke. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine, Takatori-san.” The disinfectant smell was starting to get to Crawford, and his nose twitched despite his reluctant efforts to control it. “I would have been here sooner if it hadn’t been for the events of the last few weeks.”

“Indeed.” Hirofumi, a tall, wiry young man with thin, elongated features, replied. He trailed his hand down the side of his pristine lab coat, resting them onto a pair of equally immaculate gloves. “I must apologize as well. To cope with all that’s happened, I’ve buried myself in my work. I’ve just come to realize that one should be weary before attempting such a feat.”

“All great men find solace in their work.” Crawford praised. The formality of the conversation hardly flustered him. With a smile, he moved to the side, extending his hand in introduction. “Before it escapes my mind, I’m very thankful for your permission to bring Miss. Karen along. She’s been looking forward to finally visiting you and your workplace.”

Elise bowed deeply, clutching her hands to her lap to keep balance. She held for a few seconds, assured herself that Hirofumi had straightened up from his own greeting, and raised her head.

“As friends of my late father and brother, I welcome you to the laboratories of Takatori Inc.” He motioned to the door behind him, waving with his other for his guests to move forward. “You must forgive me for looking the way I do. Like I’ve said, I’ve been working nonstop since Masafumi’s funeral.”

“I’ve come to realize that your entire family displays the same amount of diligence.” Crawford admired as he started through the door. A small, vented room greeted him and, as Elise and Hirofumi stepped up beside him, a fan above whirred to life. “I am undoubtedly sure that you have much to show for all the hours you’ve put in.”

“You couldn’t have been more correct.” Hirofumi took the lead, pressing a large, red button on the side wall when the fan clicked off. The small room, now void of outside contaminants, opened outward into a long, winding walkway that descended into the bowels of the building. “I’m almost positive that my intelligence comes from my father, but both sides of the family seem to be terribly hardworking in nature.”

“That must have made Takatori-san very proud to have a heir like you.” Crawford took to following on the heels of the doctor. Since they had climbed down a flight of steps into the main labs, the hallways had narrowed. Workers, many sporting their own white overcoats, hurried between rooms. A solid majority wheeled around carts of varying sizes. Despite the smell, he forced himself to stare at the back of Hirofumi’s head.

“Indeed, again.” Hirofumi touched the base of his neck, wiping the sweat that had accumulated. It had been very cool in the waiting room, unlike the humid conditions in many of the labs below, and his skin had chilled and turned clammy. “In fact, I haven’t seen my stepsister in a long while. I believe she, too, has been burrowing herself in miscellaneous projects since the death of our father.”

“Really?” Crawford nodded his head, glancing quickly behind him to confirm Elise was still following. “How has Sofia been taking it all?”

“Very well actually.” He replied, pulling the gloves free of his coat. “She’s grown into a resilient woman. Regrettably, I don’t know much about her personal life, nor have I ever been particularly close to her, but I’ve heard she has many friends to help her through this.”

“And the wedding?” Crawford turned a corner with the scientist, down a wider, less crowded wing. “I apologize if I’m prodding into matters that I shouldn’t, but I’ve heard rumors that you could be the possible groom.”

“As have I.” Hirofumi interrupted himself with a hearty laugh. It drew attention from the scientists around him, but he was ignorant of their stares. “But that is not the case.”

“I see.” The American stopped beside Hirofumi, watching as he touched the knob of a closed metal door. Peering through the wire-crossed window cut high in the wood, Crawford could make out another spotless, white room. “Have you chosen a groom yet?”

“At the moment, I believe Sofia is too young to marry.” The door was opened, and they entered into a spacious, quiet laboratory. “Because her age is a factor, I haven’t seriously started my search. You must think my culture strange, Mr. Crawford. Marrying a child so young must sound barbarous. This is why I hesitate for the time being.”

“I’ve seen worse in America. We marry for petty reasons.” Crawford added as he glances around the room. He was immediately drawn to a ventilated, glass case at the far wall. “Love should not be the definitive quality in a relationship. Financial support, loyalty and po--”

“Politics!” Hirofumi said in unison. A smile beamed on his face as he patted Crawford on the shoulder. “Marriage should be an exchange from one family to the other, to tremendously profit one or both, to bring two families together. You speak volumes, Mr. Crawford. You speak as though you know my every thought.”

“I merely speak from my heart.” With his words, he touched his chest. “To have an opinion that resembles yours is honoring.”

“And vice versa.” Hirofumi replied, slipping on his gloves as he walked across the room. “Here, tell me your opinion of my work. Have you read up on it?”

“I have, in length.” Crawford, with Elise at his side, moved in sync with the doctor. The three of them paused before the glass case. “But, I reserve my opinion until I can hear the specifics from the doctor himself.”

“Is that so?” Hirofumi seemed to have an endless, starved conscious. Crawford continued feeding him such sweetened complements that a strange, queer relation started between the two.

Elise decided to kept herself away, content in her own travels around the claustrophobic, stuffy laboratory. Ducking behind the nearest row of shelves, still in earshot, she started traversing a column of small, conjoined cages. She ran her right hand along the metal ridges, bending down to peer in at the half dozen mice that slept in clustered groups against the side. They all looked healthy, she realized, and for a second, she gently touched the patches of soft, white fur that stuck out between the bars of the container.

“We’ve actually been experimenting on two different types of chemicals, both comprised of similar strands of the Variola virus.”

“And the government allows such testing?”

“Takatori Incorporated does not respect the limits that the Japanese government places on it, Mr. Crawford.” As Elise moved down to the second row of cages, she heard Crawford laugh in agreement. “We believe that limitations only harm science.”

Continuing on, she noticed that the second enclosure for the mice was completely constructed of glass. Large air ducts had been inserted into the sides of the tank, ventilated further back to another laboratory that Elise could barely see. She soon spotted a grayish haze hanging inside the container as the mice, none of which were sleeping like their brethren in the metal cages, scurried about, scratching and biting at their fur.

“Our first idea was to create an ingestible virus, preferably one that we could inject into comatose patients to put them down when their time came. But Masafumi found out that it was much too messy for such a delicate situation. With my father’s advice, he soon turned to weaponry as a venue for his creation.”

“Biochemical warfare.”

“Exactly.”

The next cage, shielded from the light by a blue-glassed surface, was littered with mice. Elise, squinting into the sapphire tint, could just see one mouse, closest to her, heaving and jerking about. A hushed gasp came from her throat as she saw its pussing, blistered face. Many would have then shielded their vision from the realization of looming death, from the suffering of such a creature, no matter how insignificant and small it was, captivated her.

“He ditched the liquid form for an easier, faster acting gas, which was made possible by a formula I’ve created. It attracts to carbon dioxide and heat, so those without specialized gas masks or body suits, say, on a battlefield, would be secretly attacked by the fumes.”

“Wouldn’t it be expensive to equip every solider with a gas mask and suit?”

“With this virus, it wouldn’t take an army of men to defeat another. It would cut down on the government’s monetary dependence as well as casualties.”

Elise stepped back as the mouse’s stomach started to swell. She could hear it scratching, biting aimlessly at the air. When it stopped moving, she pressed a palm to the cold glass, an empty, forlorn look growing in the dark recesses of her eyes.

“We already have buyers from out west, all of which are steadfast and loyal friends of mine. I chose not to sell to anyone in Japan. Corruption is rampant here.”

“I see. Do you know the plans of your friends once they receive your creation?”

“Simply to study, Mr. Crawford. They merely wish to learn.”

“And who would these fine men be?”

The rat jerked suddenly. In a long, muffled cry, it arched its back, flailing all four legs in the air in mad, pinwheeled circles. The abdomen continued to expand, but the limbs cramped and became glued in their thrashing positions.

“Gerard H. Soltroff, a biotechnition and personal confidante from Germany. He was among the first I felt I could truly trust.”

Her hand pushed harder against the glass as she watched the torso bloat. The mouse had already died, but it moved and twitched as it grew.

“The next is another dear friend, William B. Pladek, a scientist like myself and fellow alumni currently living in France.”

The small body finally filled and, with a wet, stifled jolt, it exploded against the glass. Elise immediately jarred back, her chest heaving with a single bolt of surprise. She hadn’t, though, removed her hand from the tank’s surface.

“And Fumihiko Tachiki, a doctor and personal confidante from the United States.”

Slowly, with awe creeping into her mind, she recoiled her outstretched arm to her side. Where her hand had been, where the moist palm of flesh had touched and warmed the glasses surface was a shifting, moving, silhouette of blood.

“Now, Mr. Crawford, if you can stomach it, I’ll show you what all this can do.”