In His Image

by daOtterGuy

Disease

“Gruesome, isn’t it?” Ironhead remarked.

Flash nodded tightly at the understatement, horror making him mute. Kite had been perfectly healthy not a few days prior. Now, he lay as nothing more than a living corpse. Skin taut over bone, muscle all but withered away, pulsing veins dyed pink from illness.

“Do we know what the cause is?” Flash asked.

“No, but we may have a cure,” Ironhead replied.

“Then why aren’t we using it?”

“We don’t have it yet.”

“We don’t—?!”

“It’s located in the Caucasus.”

“And?” Flash narrowed his eyes. “If we do not get the cure, everyone will die. The dangers are worth saving the lives of our people.”

“I was hoping you would say that. Now, what do you know of Prometheus?”