Biotech

"Biological warfare, also known as germ warfare, is the use of biological toxins or infectious agents such as bacteria, viruses, and fungi with the intent to kill or incapacitate humans, animals or plants as an act of war."

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When she had dreamt of being a doctor all those years ago, it had been an aspiration veiled by childish innocence. The foolish idea that everyone could be saved through the glorious advancement of medicine; that medicine and scientific advancement itself was a tool wielded only by those with the best of intentions, angels of blinding light rushing forth to cure, prolong, and save.

She had learned rather quickly that these medical advancements she was so enraptured with didn't come without breaking a few bones, scrambling a few minds, wasting a few lives. The reality had hit her not so much like a bus, but like a wake up call, the message slicing through her like the dullest blade imaginable, leaving her numb and confused with a year left to go before she could relish in attaining the degree she had worked most of her short life to achieve.

It was around this time that the war began.

_____

If there is one thing in this world Akiko Yosano would kill for, it's a damn cigarette. She had quit months ago, thanks to the company's new policies. It wasn't as if it had been hard, really she only ever smoked on occasion, to relieve some stress, and damn it all if stress reduction wasn't something she had a mighty need for right now.

Pushing her dark, straight cut bangs up her forehead, she takes a deep breath, studying the three suspension tanks before her and the men contained inside. They are of varying height but possess similar builds, as is required of all subjects in the facility's care. Each is a spectacular specimen in its own regard, a testament to the brilliance of scientific and medical innovation.

COR503-A. As a human, he is the shortest of the three. Wild red curls fall haphazardly in to his face and cascade down his neck, only half hiding his neural clamp and the bruises at each edge; his blue eyes are bright and overbearing. As an experiment, he is her pride and joy. The fastest killing viral strain known to the entire organization. Maybe even the world. A smile tugs at the edges of her lips as she runs her eyes over him, only to fade to a dark frown as she notes how dark his wrists are beneath the neural manacles he wears on each arm.

NLH684-A. The tallest of the three, but still of average height all things considered. Dark brown falls in lazy waves, not long enough to hide the start of the neural inhibitor that begins at the clamp in the base of his neck and follows the line of his spine; his eyes are brown and probing, moving behind long, dark lashes as if he knows something she doesn't. He is her first masterpiece. The ultimate trump card. The specific strain of bacteria she had created and hosted in him had been completely changed when his body's genetic output had absorbed it, causing it to become the ultimate antidote, and a fast acting one, at that. He's here as a precaution, serving as a stark reminder that any experiment can fail.

MB882-D. Of the three of them, he's the youngest looking, heterochromatic eyes pleading with her from within a face too round and innocent to be worn by a weapon of mass destruction. His hair is a stark platinum, a single black clump remaining as a reminder of the vast change his biological makeup has undergone, and his bangs are angled in such a way that they nearly hide the halo inhibitor that circles across his forehead. He's not her personal creation, but an adaptive, resilient viral strain with a fast infection rate. The reason they are here, in this moment, in this room.

She walks up and down before them, checking their tubing, IV lines, and breathing apparatuses by sight before reaching out and keying her authorization in to each of the panels at the base of the tanks, meeting each of their gazes as the confirmation beeps sound against her ears, the whoosh of serum infused water following as each tank fills to the top.

A throat clears, breaking her concentration and she whirls around, gaze raising to the control deck, eyes narrowing as she meets a stoic, jade glare.

"Edogawa." She doesn't attempt to mask her annoyance at her colleague's presence, though she should have known better than to think she could conduct the experiment in peace.

No one so much as rustled a proposal in this place without Edogawa Ranpo taking an interest.

"Akiko." His face transforms into a triumphant grin as he brushes back his dark hair, looking over his glasses at her as he does. "Is this an authorized test?"

"Is it any of your business?" She crosses her arms over her chest, the stiff fabric of her lab coat making the action difficult. "You know it is, you wouldn't be here if it wasn't. You'd be running off to the boss to squeal on me."

"I'm offended, Dr. Yosano." He kicks his feet up on to the terminal, crossing his hands behind his head as he leans back in his seat. "I came down here because I ran into Kunikida on my way to lunch and he mentioned you were working on the merger today.

"I thought you could use some support."

She isn't sure if the teasing tone in his voice is real or a figment of her imagination, but as she sweeps away from the tanks and toward the steps to the control deck, she decides she doesn't care. She'll take the backup when it's offered.

"If you're genuinely offering help, I'll take it, but one snide comment and your ass will be the next one suspended in a tank."

___

"All tests unremarkable. Subject functions are within normal limits. Proceed with commands when ready."

She isn't sure if she'll ever be "ready" for what she plans to attempt today.

This will be her first attempt at crossing strains. Her first hybrid. COR503-A and MB882-D. If their makeups accepted one another, they could end all of it, once and for all.

If they rejected one another, well. There was no doubt in her mind that COR503-A would consume its intended match. And she would have to be okay with that.

"Launch test matter ID 547." Her breath hitches, spine straightening just a touch as her nails dig in to her palms, eyes focused on the tanks.

"Launching."

A dull thud echoes through the room as tank 2-A begins to pump, the nanobodies necessary to create the reaction within COR503-A's blood filling the water and changing its color from a sickly green to a dark beige. She watches his eyes close, his lips parting behind the mask as he breathes slowly, his muscles beginning to ripple involuntarily as the transformation begins.

It's breathtaking and heart wrenching all at once. A testament to the advancement of science and the cruelty of humanity in one beautiful moment.

An alarm buzzer sounds a singular tone and her eyes narrow, tearing away from tank 2-A and flitting to 1-A, lighting on MB882-D's thrashing form. Cursing under her breath, she pounds away at the keyboard, typing in the instruction for an inter-neural correction, doesn't look up from the rows of commands displayed on the screen when a sharp shriek breaks the air despite the thickness of the tank walls.

"Launch test matter ID 668." There is more of a tremble to her voice than she will ever admit as she gives the command.

"Launching."

Another thud as tank 1-A responds in the same, water changing to an identical beige. MB882-D's head droops, his eyelids falling closed as his veins begin to bubble and surge beneath his thin skin, as if he is in denial of his body's changing state.

She breathes deep, attempts to steady the tremble of her fingers as she poises them over the keyboard once more, counting off the seconds in her head as she watches, waiting for conformation that everything is stable enough to proceed.

"Test matter absorbed. Stability achieved in two minutes, twelve seconds. Proceed with next command when ready."

The moment of truth.

"Launch protocol K6-5LP." Her heart pounds, chest constricting as she leans forward, barely daring to breathe.

"Please input employee verification and key before proceeding with this command."

She has to retype it twice before she can press "accept".

"Understood. Initiating."

Electricity surges, dimming the lights in the room for mere seconds, as tanks 1-A and 2-A whir in tandem, the pumps drawing in the power required to keep both subjects stable as the line in COR503-A's arm draws tainted crimson from his veins and pumps it through the floor panel of his tank and into a nearby containment apparatus. The apparatus then pumps the liquid in to MB882-D's tank, up through his attached IV and directly in to his bloodstream.

The muscles on his forearms flex, his eyes narrow, irises darting side to side as he works to make sense of the onslaught of sensations, his veins darkening to a shade of bruised violet. A minute passes. Then two.

"Protocol complete. Subject is stable."

Her heart skips a beat. She's done it. Ranpo clasps a hand onto her shoulder and gives her a small shake. A breathless laugh escapes them both.

Congratulations are on Ranpo's lips when the lights flicker once more, the drone of an emergency buzzer meeting their ears in unison with the anguished wail that rips from MB882-D's lips as he throws his head back, mouth open, chest heaving as his body and the virus inside attempt to both fight and fly in a last minute rejection. Yosano is frozen in place, all thought fleeing from her as his face contorts, color draining from his features, his body beginning to convulse, vomit spewing from his mouth, getting trapped behind his breathing apparatus, causing him to choke.

"He's crashing. Akiko!" Ranpo's voice drags her back, forces her in to action. He's already jabbing commands onto the keyboard on his side of the station, disabling COR503-A's line and preparing tank 2-A for drain.

"God, damn it." Flicking up the plexi-glass box further up the terminal, Yosano punches the numbers on the pad beneath it, fingers shaking, lip drawing into a disgusted sneer.

"Inquisition #22549, issued by #38-YA, request to inject tank subject MB882-D with 700ccs of live serum NLH684-A. Proceed?"

Yosano further stabs at the keys, eyes averting from the tank as she feels the weight of Ranpo's glare on her face.

"Initiating in three..."

"... two..."

"... one."

Tank 3-A whirs to life, NLH684-A closes his eyes as lines in each of his arms activate, face calm, body lax. Yosano watches the red as it travels through the direct line in to the cap on tank 1-A, sees it empty out directly in to the water and wash over MB882-D's convulsing form. The line in his thigh begins to fill with red as well, NLH684-A flowing over him and within him. He gives one last flail before stilling, body folding over itself and drifting to the bottom of the tank.

"Request complete. Subject MB882-D has been stabilized. Drain tank 1-A?"

Yosano can't move. Her forehead is buried in her open palms, breathing ragged as MB882-D's residual whimpers grate against her ears, as loud as his shrieks and wails. For all she steels her nerves, for all she tells herself she's saving the many by sacrificing the few, nothing ever makes it any easier to watch them writhe, scream, and beg for mercy.