PATIENT ZERO

Dr. Isaac Gilmore peered through the microscope lenses at the alien viral sample, utterly transfixed. He had spent the better part of a decade unlocking Protean’s secrets within the hermetically sealed Crypt laboratory, tempering irrational awe with scientific rigor.

Few organisms both fascinated and unsettled him as deeply. Something about Protean’s unique protein shell evoked cosmic roots, perhaps due to rapid morphological shifts triggered in response to unpredictable stimuli. Even lead researchers with top Pentagon clearance rarely glimpsed the “pure” XT-5 strain—deemed too volatile for traditional virology.

Yet Isaac knew superior genetics when he saw them. If he could stabilize Protean, the applications could revolutionize bioengineering. Synthetic enzymes for terraforming toxified worlds, quantum computers interfacing with neurons, shapeshifting camouflage armor; the revolutionary implications dazzled even his boundary-pushing imagination. Governments called it the next arms race in a newly cold world beset by climate chaos.

Isaac just needed time. And test subjects. Isolating Protean’s core genomes for sequencing without triggering violent mutations demanded intricate host machinery tweaks. His gene splicers supported the rapid assembly of custom viral carriers, but lab animals kept dying too quickly before useful data emerged.

Frustration had led Isaac to report skewed testing metrics for months while quietly developing illegal human trials. But botanical antigen experiments showed promise. With the correct chlorophyll extract infusion, perhaps Protean could integrate more stably across subjects.

Isaac froze at the sound of footfalls echoing down the empty corridor outside. Strange. His wing of Crypt 6 maintained top-level remote access barriers to entry due to the program’s sensitive aims. Red camera lights indicated an ongoing recording, so security had to be present. Impossible. Even private military liaisons required specialized keycard swipes and biometrics to reach this floor.

Before Isaac could remotely access surveillance feeds, Crypt 6’s emergency bulkhead doors suddenly initiated lockdown with an explosive hiss of hydraulic pistons. A deafening klaxon cut through blaring amber hazard lights as the hermetic seal engaged.

His heart dropped. Immediate Crypt evacuation only meant one thing—a verified contamination event. But his lab operated under strict redundant safeguards known only to him.

General Buntaro. The head of Protean military affairs conducting that unannounced inspection today. Of course. Isaac cursed himself for not connecting the dots sooner. Ever since the Tokyo Protection Accords passed, hawkish elements hoped to exploit Protean. The Ministry of Defense stood ready to make dissidents like Isaac disappear should experiments cross sanctioned ethical boundaries.

Which left him trapped inside a ticking biohazard clock with minutes at best before emergency systems incinerated Crypt 6. He rushed to a cryo-vault and retrieved a carefully concealed vial of blue liquid—the antigen he’d painstakingly formulated using classified biologics over 24 sleepless, covert hours.

Then Isaac sank the extraction syringe into his left wrist vein before doubt crept in. He had one chance to demonstrate Protean’s monumental potential before shutdown. Blackness enveloped his vision almost instantly as his legs gave way. The frigid floor rose to meet him amidst shrieking hazard sirens echoing from reality and his cells. Time slowed to granular agony.

Just before the dark fully descended, Isaac felt strong hands lifting his paralyzed body. Buntaro’s voice cut through cascading nightmarescapes with focused authority.

“Get him prepped in Quarantine 37-C immediately. And spin up simulation parameters for widespread Tokyo dispersion scenarios...”

***

Jiro Yamada watched Tokyo rise across the horizon, steeling himself. Seeing the dense metropolis devoid of its normal energy never stopped feeling surreal, even weeks later, the air still tinged with lingering ash flakes when the wind swept a certain direction. Yet life found a way to return in pockets across scorched city blocks. A tiny fraction of holdouts were unable or unwilling to evacuate when all hell broke loose.

"Seven minutes out," came Lt. Ito's curt update from the transport VTOL's cabin, already partially masked in a futile precaution should airborne hazards remain. Quarantine procedures dictated teams await Crypt garrison clearance first before directly approaching hot zones. But red tape strangled full emergency response capabilities as more ministers succumbed to panic, demanding overwatch authority on sorties to manage optics. The distraction cost everyone.

Jiro checked his Shokin PMC-issued combat harness holding various extraction tools and traversal mechanisms. As a “recovery” specialist, his directive focused on assets, not people—securing intellectual property, prototypes, or data storage drives before unauthorized parties raided abandoned sites.

Today’s target looked routine enough after recent assignments exposing him to incubation horrors—salvaging experimental technology samples from a genetics institute formerly on Tokyo’s vibrant technology campus. But Jiro knew better than to underestimate risks lingering within Crypt fortress remnants dotting the inner city or advanced devices incubating inside.

The VTOL banked abruptly, hazard strobes flashing as Lt. Ito's controlled voice betrayed a rising alarm.

"Base reads a cluster of unknown biological masses converging from multiple grid zones."

Jiro peered over Ito's shoulder through the cockpit as his gut tightened. He could see it now too rippling across cracked streets below—a sprawling amoeba-like mass stretching between buildings as far as the eye could see, glistening streaks shifting just below the skin of the thing with otherworldly coordination.

"No registered entity signatures...it's Protean! Primary contact in 10...brace!"

Before Jiro could shout a warning, a brood of objects hurtled towards their engines from the quivering morass below. Bio-missiles—screaming suicide progeny birthed simply to propagate the greater horror. Jiro grimaced as the VTOL careened out of control, steeling his mind against whatever came next.

Just another day on the apocalypse beat mopping up monsters birthed from mankind’s hubris while struggling to keep what remained of his city from killing itself...