Cells at Work: Ebola

Chapter 14: You Failed, But It's Not Your Fault

NK trudged on a sea of corpses.

Everywhere she looked she saw bodies of the infected strewn everywhere mangled and butchered by her party beyond recognition. The ground ran red with cytoplasm oozing out from the fallen's mortal wounds, forming puddles that soon coalesced to cover the whole paved ground of the lymphatic road. Each step she took sent ripples of crimson ichor like she was walking on top of a sweat pool. The stench of death flaring in her nostrils made her want to vomit, but she endured the putrid smell.

This was what she wanted, this was what she needed to achieve redemption.

The stain on her honor for failing to stop the archtraitor's rebellion could only be cleansed with the utter annihilation of her enemies.

She stopped walking to look down on one dead infected KT cell missing her lower half. Her face was locked into a perpetual scream, with her unhinged jaw stretched to impossible proportions. NK stared into her pupil-less eyes, and she saw pure hatred and unfulfilled rage.

I will destroy you. She thought to herself. All of you.

This was the only path to redemption, this was the only way she could ever forgive herself.

And yet...

Despite the hundreds of slithered throats, smashed heads, and butchered bodies, the carnage she unleashed was still not enough.

Still. Not. Enough.

She checked her chronometer and, to her surprise, the battle only lasted less than five minutes.

Her brows furrowed with confusion. She could have sworn it dragged on for much longer than what her time indicated.

She started recalling each opponent she fought, noting each movement her enemy made before she delivered the kill.

She shook her head. It doesn't really matter. The battle might have stretched for eternity or have ended in a blink of an eye, it still didn't change the fact that she almost died without fulfilling her oath.

The cold rusting blade of the infected NK kissing the membrane on her neck still sent shivers down her back.

She should have died then and there. She should have died unredeemed and a failure despite her burning promise to atone for her mistake, but by the grace of the Consciousness, she did not.

Before her fallen counterpart could slither her throat, deliverance came donning the mantle of ghosts and vanquishing her opponent with the swift judgment of her cleaver-sword.

Once again she owed her life to her master and her retinue of elite battle maids.

Her knuckles curled into tight fists. Another blow to her honor, another debt she needed to pay.

"You're blaming yourself again," a low voice from behind called out to her.

She turned to look at the owner of the voice, and her expression immediately turned into a scowl.

"And of course, you just have to meddle with other cell's business?" She rolled her eyes with annoyance. MT stood in front of her drenched with red cytoplasm from head to boots. "What are you? An overly concerned macrophage?"

MT looked straight at her in the eyes without blinking. His expression had turned grim. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again... This is not your fault."

"And now you've started assuming that I'm blaming myself?" She crossed her arms. "What are you? An overly excited neuron? You don't even know what I'm thinking."