Snippet #1599689

'You really want me to kill him?'

The question hung in the air for a moment. Neither spoke. A light rain began to fall on the singed tiles of roof of the former Mater Misericordiae Hospital, yet the small flame that had been started there the night before still continued to burn.

'You understand, of course,' the man continued, 'that this could cause a dispute that could spiral out of control? Out of anyone's control?'

Alisdair "Ali" Earnst turn to face the man that stood crouched next to a living dead man. The man-a politician, in fact- had been conflicted by unknown means with a disease that resulted in an extreme form of muscle atrophy. The disease obviously showed, the man had eaten his share of breakfast, lunch, and dinner throughout the day, yet still he looked starved. Ali and his temporary companion-whome had offered to pay for the help and supplies- were at first determined to cure this man. However, as soon as Ali came up with an administered a cure, the virus' anatomy changed.

At that point, Ali knew that it was pointless. It would take years of time and a full team of scientists and medical professionals to develop a cure strong enough to cope with a virus of this caliber. As far as Ali was concerned, this man had the potiential to infect the entirety of Brisbane. He had to be terminated, the body burned.

Wiping off a few droplets of water that clung to his bald head, Ali took a few steps closer to his contractor, the contours of the hazmat suit making his steps awkward.

'The man that you kneel next to has the potiential to kill this entire city. I'll spare you the logistics and present you with an answer: The man must be killed before this virus has a chance to spread.'

Ali's contractor sighed. There was a long pause as he contemplated what Ali had just proposed. He found to rebutle.

Without another word, he withdrew a small letter opener from the back pocket of his dirty khaki slacks. Ali was respectful enough to look away as the contractor held the thin blade up against the quivering man's neck. There was a final gasp from him, then silence.

Heading back towards the door that lead to the ground floor (Where Ali's "home" happened to be), Ali did his best to comfort the contractor.

'There's no need to pay me. You asked for a cure, and no cure was produced. Only blood.'