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Post by Vobron on Apr 11, 2023 15:53:29 GMT
Please do not comment on this thread thank you!  |
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Post by Vobron on Apr 11, 2023 22:34:59 GMT
The Hindmost
"Hello, I am Sheila Lazarus, and this is the Vobronian Vindicator, the Isles' most trusted news source. Today's top story is the continued investigation into the Brazen Maw and the five assailants who attacked the Mire's End Bio-Storage Facility on Sunday evening. Vobronian Anti-Terrorism forces have arrested 28 confirmed Brazen Maw members, including 4 of the five assailants. The location of the last assailant is still unknown, but VAT (Vobronian Anti-Terrorism) has gone on record, reporting that forces will be investigating several suspected areas this afternoon and evening. It looks like the Arbiter will deliver on his promise made to Vobron and the rest of Declans-"
"Damn Foundationalists," James Fyodre muttered, clutching the remote with trembling fingers. "It won't be long before they are here, and I'll be done."
He crossed the room and peered out the small cabin window, from where he saw the sunshine across the gigantic marsh before him. Dume's Swamp appeared to be the perfect refuge. It was secluded; security was less prevalent, and the entire swamp provided a dense and challenging terrain to hide in. But with the lightning response from VAT, the swamp had changed from a perfect respite into a muddy spider's web. James was trapped and with nowhere to go. He had planned to leave yesterday, but a heavy rainstorm destroyed any chances of having suitable ground to walk on. His car had sunk into the mud, and any attempts to liberate it would surely be futile--even if he could unshackle the vehicle, the noise and lights caused by its activation would warn the patrol helicopters above. He quickly let the curtain fall back over the window and retreated into a back room. He had much work to do, and time was fleeting rapidly.
He sat down in a shoddy chair and began his work. In front of him lay a brass microscope, a gas mask, and a duffle bag. James carefully fastened the gas mask upon his face and took a deep breath. He cautiously unzipped the duffle bag with shaky hands and cleared away a few sheets of cloth. A metal capsule labeled “VF#2346” sat at the bottom of the bag. He picked up the capsule and placed it on the table using the cloth. The screen on the box prompted him with a password request. He quickly searched through the notes on his phone, where he eventually found the combination that the Harbinger provided. “612005”, he punched in the numbers slowly and vigilantly, and soon an approving chime poured from the device. The compression locks disengaged, causing gas to plume from the capsule. Fyodre soon opened the capsule, and sure enough, there was a small petri dish with “Morsdiscipuli” scribbled upon the top in marker.
He quickly picked up the dish and grabbed a miniature pipette and scalpel from the drawer. He delicately took a small sample of the fungus with the scalpel and placed it on a small but sturdy glass slide. He then put a drop of water on the selection and added a coverslip. He slipped the slide under the microscope and set the magnification at 40x. After adjusting the microscope's focus, the image soon came into focus. Like an oil slick, black spores lay dead, strewn across the scene, just as the Arbiter said they would.
“No matter,” James thought, “Dead works better.”
After clearing the slide, he repeated the gathering process and went through masses of samples to find what he was looking for. Sample after sample was gathered, examined, and then angrily discarded. He could feel the evening sun creep up on the back of his neck when he found what he was looking for. There was a mass of fungus in this sample, not just spores but a complete conglomerate of dead cells. He grinned, scraped the sample into a test tube, and corked it with a nearby rubber stopper.
“Now to deposit it,” James said, holding the vial.
He quickly placed the specimen into a small metal box and slid it under the floorboards. After this whole thing blew over, someone will return and collect the sample…it was a foolproof plan.
However, James did not live in this state of pride for long, for as soon as he repositioned the floorboard, there was a loud bang at his front door. Followed by a mechanical whir of a laser cutter. The VAT was here, and his time was up…
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