It was an unfortunate confluence of events that led to the advent of ‘The Super Bug’. Dr. Gabriel Fairhaven, a brilliant geneticist and biochemist, was developing a retrovirus for use in gene therapy with the intent to permanently cure genetic disorders. His disease of focus and primary driving force was cystic fibrosis, which his daughter Amelia suffered from.
Gabriel worked for Immunotech, a major pharmaceutical company that at the time was suffering from bad press due to allegedly cruel animal testing and involvement in illegal biological weapons research. While Gabriel himself never came under scrutiny, a researcher operating in the same building was under investigation for involvement in viral weaponry. The researcher’s name is withheld by legal injunction.
Legal action was getting nowhere in resolving the accusations, so a group of environmental extremists calling themselves Gaia’s Warriors took it upon themselves to resolve the situation. They broke into the Immunotech labs located in New York, freed the animals, and then detonated a large explosive device. Unfortunately they were unaware that Gabriel Fairhaven and his assistants were working late that night, as Gabriel had told several colleagues that he was on the verge of a major breakthrough in his research.
The blast destroyed not only the bio-weapons lab, but also Gabriel’s lab, killing Gabriel and his assistants and rendering his normally secure experimental viruses airborne. The lab was only just shy of 2 miles from JFK International Airport, and prevailing winds carried the airborne viruses, contaminated by the contents of the bio-weapons lab, directly to the terminal. Thus was begun a global pandemic that nearly brought civilization to its knees.
The incubation period of the virus was roughly seven days, during which it was nearly 100% contagious. The virus spread from JFK to most of the planet before its first patient ever entered a hospital. Once the virus went active the symptoms presented themselves as an extreme case of the flu, with high fever, vomiting, delusions, convulsions, and aching muscles.
At first people thought it might be a reemergence of the Spanish flu, which was frightening itself. Panic was widespread and a majority of the world’s population was incapacitated in a matter of days. The World Health Organization was heavily involved after the first day, and within 48 hours of the first cases appearing the disease was traced back to New York and the explosion at the Immunotech labs. Unfortunately the explosion destroyed most of the research data and Gabriel Fairhaven and all 3 of his assistants were dead. All hopes for a rapidly created vaccine were crushed.
Then, nearly two weeks after the first symptoms appeared, approximately 3 weeks after the initial infection, people began to recover. The entire world exhaled a breath of relief. At a 15% mortality rate, the toll of the infection was horrifyingly grim, though not the apocalypse some feared. Most of that toll came from people over the age of 60. In an odd turn of events though, young children had a higher survival rate than adults. For children under the age of 12 the mortality rate was only 2%.
In the end it was determined that nearly 95% of the world’s population was infected and approximately 1 billion people died in the course of a few weeks. Almost no family escaped unscathed. But people picked themselves up, mourned their dead, and life went on. It wasn’t until a little over 9 months later that the full cost of the infection was revealed.
The first two documented superhuman children were born at almost exactly the same time. Tanaka Kurosagi, born at the Otaru Municipal Hospital in Otaru, Japan, turned into a wolf pup in his mother’s arms no more than three minutes after his birth in full view of the medical staff. Purportedly, for the first few months of his life he never spent more than five minutes as human or wolf except when breast feeding because his mother refused to let him continue when he turned into a pup in the middle.
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Amy Flannigan, born at St. Mary’s Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin, literally flew from the doctor’s arms and into her mother’s. They had to keep a net over her crib at night to prevent her from floating up to the ceiling in her sleep. Mrs. Flannigan apparently lived in mortal fear of open windows around her child until Amy was at least 8 years old.
It has since been discovered that other superhuman children were born before these two, but their powers were not evident until later in life. Regardless, nearly 40% of the children conceived after the infection were born with some form of superhuman ability, ranging from the inconsequential to the truly awe-inspiring. That number has only gone up since, with last year’s numbers approaching 75%. The social, economic, political, and even religious ramifications from the introduction of a rapidly growing superhuman population have been nothing less than staggering.
* Excerpt from Birth of the Supermen, by Dr. Arthur Beedle, Ph.D.
Prologue
Most people still think of super villains like they are in the old comic books. They live in secret bases on volcanic islands, laugh maniacally, and have massive battles with heroes that result in horrendous levels of property damage. Admittedly there were a few that seemed to be trying to live up, or down, to that stereotype. But this super villain much preferred his lavishly appointed offices on the top floor of one of the highest buildings in downtown Tokyo.
The windows were all tinted armor glass that offered a spectacular view of the city. His desk was impressive, made of solid ebony with an interactive holographic display built into the top surface. His personal chair was covered in supple black leather and was exceptionally comfortable. It was also ludicrously expensive, though that was due to the many concealed systems built into it.
There were a couple chairs facing his desk, comfortable but nothing out of the ordinary. There was a private elevator, a liquor cabinet, a few plants, and the doors leading off to his private quarters. There was also a tall, generic looking guard standing next to the elevator doors. Of course the guard could quickly obliterate anyone or anything without at least a Class-7 Armor rating at the man’s slightest indication.
At the moment the man was looking at the back of his hands. They hardly seemed like his hands anymore. The liver spots, the papery skin, the withered flesh, they seemed like the hands of a man who’d seen at least a century pass. And yet he was barely a third of that age.
The wasting disease, known colloquially as “the Burnout”, had been diagnosed less than 2 years ago. Today the best healers he could buy or “acquire” were barely enough to keep him alive. There were admittedly more powerful healers, but they were too well guarded and tracked to be viable for his purposes. And even with a high class Sensor it would take a miracle to find a powerful enough healer in hiding. But that’s where the young man sitting in front of his desk came in.
More a boy really, not even old enough to drink legally. And with the boy’s good looks and big, sparkly blue eyes girls’ hearts were no doubt set a-flutter at the very sight of him. But that was of no concern. What interested the man was that this boy was reputedly the finest assassin on the planet.
“You guarantee success, even considering the target?” he asked the boy.
The young man smiled. “I never accept a job if I can’t guarantee success.”
He stared into the boy’s eyes for a moment, and then looked to the display projected from his desk. He typed a few quick commands and then returned his eyes to the boy. “Your payment is authorized. $10 million now, the remaining $40 million on confirmation of the target’s death.”
A wavering distortion appeared in the air as the boy stood up. “No worries, the bloke’ll cark it by morning. Pleasure doin’ the Bizzo wit ya.” The boy gave a mock salute as he stepped through the distortion and disappeared, the distortion vanishing with him.
The man sighed and turned to look out the window. He’d have preferred to use someone from his own organization, or at least someone with a more professional attitude. But no one else had the necessary skill set to guarantee success, not without starting a war.
It didn’t matter though, he’d get what he wanted, and he’d torture and kill whomever he needed to do so. All told, it was the same as any other day.