Cells at Work: Ebola

Chapter 9: Duty, Destiny, Lies

One step back... Two steps... Three...

Lady Em's offensive started to increase in pace, and soon they clashed with blurring speeds. Their weapons no longer sang a rhythmic cadence, but now they shriek in twisted metal agony.

The KT sub-commander never wavered, never faltered, but the pressure against him had driven him to his limit until finally, a chink in his defense appeared, and his deranged opponent struck the coup de grace.

Lady Em slashed her scythe in a downward angle to which the sub-commander parried with his blade. The archtraitor, however, abruptly changed the trajectory of Plagueharvest at the last second, avoiding the gladius entirely. The sub-commander realized the feint too late and the next thing he knew, his weapon fell to the ground along with his fingers, hand, and elbow.

Crimson cytoplasm burst out from the stump of his right arm, but instead of writhing in pain, he took out his side dagger and then lunged forth toward his opponent, his mouth wide, open in a visceral scream of pure hatred.

He would end this rebellion right here, right now. If he was going to hell, then he'd drag this diabolical abomination with him.

He thrust his dagger into the maid's jugular.

"DIE TRAITOR!"

But Lady Em didn't evade his attack.

She just opened her wide gaping mouth and, with one bite of her sharp teeth, she bit the approaching dagger mid-shaft, breaking the blade into two.

Lady Em then followed her counterattack by driving her hand right into the sub-commander's chest and, with a feat only a debauched macrophage could do, shattered his armor into tiny pieces. Her hand didn't stop, but it went straight into his membrane, plunging deeper and deeper until she pulled out her hand, clutching one of his still pulsing mitochondria.

Streams of cytoplasm burst out from his chest, and he finally fell to the ground with a thud.

Cytoplasmic fluid began to pool around him, surrounding him with a sticky puddle.

His mouth started to quiver, but only wet gurgling sounds could be heard.

This was it... He had finally lost.

Lady Em knelt beside him, his fluids staining her immaculately white dress with a deep crimson color. She stared down directly into his unfocused eyes.

"Yes, lieutenant?" she leaned closer to his mouth. "Do you have any last thing to say?"

Tears fell down the sub-commander's eyes. In a minute or less, he'd be dead. There was nothing more for him to do. He had done his duty, and now it was time to rest.

With the last of his fleeing strength, he forced himself to utter a question that nagged him when all hell broke loose.

"W-Why... do... this..."

Lady Em didn't immediately respond. Her sinister smile had turned into a more somber frown. She then drew in a deep breath.

"I'm already dead, lieutenant," she started as she let out a sigh. "My group and I are infected. I don't deny it, nor do I hide it. I wish I could apologize to you, but I cannot. The world will end, and it will be through my hands. Before I die, I want to see this beautiful world, a world where I once enjoyed wonderful afternoon tea, burn to the ground along with me."

The sub-commander shivered and coughed mouthfuls of his own cellular fluid.

"We... will... stop... you..." he forced himself to utter. Even at the last moment, he still remained defiant.