Dakho
()[o__o]()
- Reaction score
- 75
From: Ellen Caine <[email protected]>
Subject: We Were Wrong
Received: July 14th, 2011 6:07 AM
John,
The vaccine was shipped last month. It's been distributed all over. At first, the symptoms would fade and the patient would get better. However, several weeks after and the symptoms have been reappearing. John, we were wrong. The vaccine doesn't work. You need to come back to America, and soon. The Government is preparing to quarantine the entire country; all routes will be closed off, whether by land, air, or sea. If you don't make it in by next week, then you're going to be stuck in Spain for quite some time. Though I guess you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?
I cannot stress enough how important it is that you get back to Halcyon. You're team lead on the research and experimentation; we don't know where to go next and we need your help. Please.
Sincerely,
Ellen
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Ellen Caine <[email protected]>
Subject: Please Respond
Received: July 17th, 2011 7:16 PM
John,
I sent you an email 3 days ago, and you have yet to reply in any way. You must understand how crucial it is you make it back to the States before the quarantine goes into effect. The team has been experimenting with variations of the vaccine, but each attempt is little more than a shot in the dark. We need your research, and we need your knowledge. It’s been 3 months since you left. I miss you. Please respond.
Sincerely,
Ellen
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Dr. John Whitman <[email protected]>
Subject: [No Subject]
Received: September 9th, 2011 11:32 PM
Dear Ellen,
I apologize for my lack of correspondence. I have not had the opportunity to check my email; I have been incredibly busy here in London.
The first issue I must address is the vaccine: there is none. I was hired by a lab here, and we have tried dozens of different options, heavily based off of the research I've done with you and the team at Halcyon. My return would have been useless.
The second issue is one of far greater importance. The virus has spread here, and it is all our fault... We had three sedated test subjects shipped over to our lab for tests. On the third day of testing, our power went down, and the generator failed to restart quick enough. The bindings on the three subjects were compromised, and they escaped into London. This was a week ago. We have not released this information into the public, so as to ensure that we may continue our work. Let me state the obvious by saying that I tell you this in strict confidence.
Ellen, I wish you luck in America; the news does not paint a pretty picture.
With regards,
John Whitman
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: James Hanson <[email protected]>
Subject: Bad News
Received: September 10th, 11:03 AM
John,
As the subject implies, I have some bad news. Ellen succumbed to the virus several weeks ago. I was checking her email to gather a list of contacts to notify, and saw your email. You should know that the lab has also been shut down; we've been cleaning out for the last few days. Most major cities have been abandoned to let the infected take over; they're far too rabid to control. I hope things are better in Europe.
From,
James
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Boston Bulletin
October 14th, 2011
Terror Grips The Boston Harbor
written by Sarah Lenkowski
Just last evening, a flurry of reports came in that the infected are running rampant on the docks. Naval commerce has come to a halt as Boston, at last, experiences the terror of the virus. Thousands have now begun to flee from the city, heading into the countryside. I myself write this while my husband drives our minivan, along with our three children, out towards Wisconsin.
Many are surprised Boston lasted as long as it did, due to it being a coastal city and incredibly close to Ground Zero, the city formerly known as Washington D.C. Many owe our elongated safety to the presence of the National Guard. It's been four months since they arrived here, on order of the president to guard Halcyon Labs. The lab itself has been the talk of the town, due to the sudden disappearance of team leader John Whitman and the more recent and mysterious death of Ellen Cain. The lab was at last shut down last month, due to failure to produce any solid leads on the vaccine. Luckily, the National Guard has stayed with us.
Though the facts are in question and the details limited, it would appear that a cargo vessel from The Caribbean was stowing several infected. The ship's crew claimed ignorance when they were briefly questioned. When the news got out, the National Guard attempted to set up barricades; however, the infected had already gotten into the heart of the city. No official evacuation has been called, but almost anyone able has attempted leaving Boston. Nevertheless, thousands remain stranded. What we've garnered by viewing various social networking and media sites is that many have formed groups in the upper floors of skyscrapers, hoping the infected don't bother.
Well, my battery is almost dead, so here is me "signing off". I think this will be my last news report. Good luck to my fellow Bostonians, and Gvwaoinlalasfk;
Note: Report never published, found on laptop at site 32.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary Entry recovered at Halcyon on October 23rd, 2011. Location of rest of diary remains unknown.
September 7th, 2011
It’s been done. Ellen is dead, and my contract is complete. I’ll admit that I was hesitant at first; I’ve been working with Ellen for several months now. I hold no personal grudge against her: business is business. But there’s no need to dwell on such things.
The kill wasn’t easy; I think she suspected, near the end, that I wasn’t really a chemist. I at first planned on giving her a poisoned drink, but when I offered it to her she refused. So I waited; eventually Katie went to get a coke for Ellen. I distracted her and slipped poison in the drink; Ellen died in her sleep.
I think it’s better this way; Ellen is a brilliant woman, but easily moved, and watching her country be torn apart would only horrify her. She’s in heaven now, away from the pain. She doesn’t have to watch her loved ones die, she doesn’t need to feel the sting of John’s betrayal. That man did not deserve such a woman, especially after fleeing across the Atlantic. They didn’t know I was aware of their relationship; then again, they also didn’t know that I’m an assassin. I can only imagine how they would handle it; of course, I think they’d be far more horrified if they found out who my client was.
I’m finally leaving Boston; all in all, this has been a success. I think I’ll use the name James again. I like it.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Henri LeMonde <[email protected]>
Subject: [No Subject]
Received: November 8th, 2011
John,
I'm giving you a warning. Interpol is after you. We're old friends, and I trust that whatever you did, you did for the right reasons. I have an old friend in London who makes discreet flights out of the country and the continent. Below is his information. You need to get out tonight. Next time we meet, you owe me a drink.
Henri
Douglas White
44-071-436-8989
(mention my name)
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary Entry recovered in Hotel Krasnapolsky in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Entry dated at January 7th, 2012. The numerous grammar and vocabulary errors have been corrected.
I'm forty five years old and here I am, writing in a dairy like some god-damned schoolgirl. But hell, I don't care anymore.
I don't care about much anymore. I gave my whole life to the grand pursuit of science, and all I got out of it was the hatred of every fucking person in the world. The world... too big, if you ask me. At least my old world was. My new world, I think I like it. Cheap, shitty beer and cheap, shitty women. Humanity may end this year but there are still whores on every street corner, and every bar is still stocked with enough liquor to flood these canals three times over. But it's better than being dead. Though I am mostly dead. I haven't used my real name for so long now. John. They used to call me John. Some people still do, but mostly they don't.
It's always better than being dead, but I guess that's because I'm an Atheist. Or maybe that's why I'm an Atheist. I don't know, I'm pretty drunk. I used to never drink. I would say, 'I need to focus on my work.' And I would say, 'Alcohol is just an inhibitor of success.' And now I say bring me drinks! Bring me more drinks!
[Following 3 lines corrupted due to liquid spill]
I think if they gave me another month, I would've had the vaccine. A real vaccine. I was so close, then those hippy bastards had to rain on my parade. They said the experiments were "abhorrent violations of morality and the basic rights of any human." Fuck them. I was quite literally trying to save the world, but the Europeans see this as a purely American affair. Bullshit. There are already reports of outbreaks in Eastern Russia. It'll keep spreading. I guess the world's gonna end in 2012 after all.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The following is a written transcript of events captured by a convenience store security camera; transcript is to be submitted for evidence.
[2 persons within the gas station: cashier and customer. Cashier - female, approximately 25 years of age, approximately 5'9'', brown hair. Customer - male, approximately 40 years of age, approximately 6'2'', blond hair.]
[Customer approaches cashier, purchases a six-pack Budweiser Light beer (alcoholic beverage)]
[Second customer enters. Second customer - male, approximately 30 years of age, approximately 6'1'', dark brown hair.]
[Second customer is clearly infected. Attacks first customer, disorients]
[Cashier reaches for item beneath the counter, assumed weapon]
[Second customer leaps over counter, assaults cashier]
[Second customer and cashier obscured from camera's view for 11 seconds, violence is assumed]
[Second customer returns to first customer; cannibalizes for 6 minutes, 17 seconds]
[Second customer leaves at sounds of police sirens*]
*Infected adapting?
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary entry recovered from Intercontinental Harbor Court in Baltimore, Maryland. No date given.
I visited Ellen's grave yesterday. I'm thankful Katie took Ellen's body with her when she left Boston. Of course, I didn't know that at first, but we bumped into each other. We had coffee. I guess it was because I was more focused on my work, but I had never realized how beautiful Katie was. Not just externally (though she was certainly physically attractive), but within as well. She was warm and optimistic; in my line of work, cold and closed off is the standard. We had sex. No, we made love. I think it was the best I've ever had.
But I digress. Visiting Ellen's grave was quite unlike anything I've ever done; I'm not a sentimental person. At least, I didn't think I was. But when I saw that name set in stone, tears welled up. I broke down into sobs. I can't remember the last time I've cried, much less sobbed. I'm breaking. As I sat there, I thought about my life. I don't really do that. But the question that came up, keeps coming up. Why am I a hitman? I don't have an answer, beyond that I'm good at it. But there has to be more to life. I know there has to be.
[the passage of some time is assumed between previous and forthcoming sections]
I've resolved to make a change. For the better. I'm going to reveal my client to the world. I'll likely be crucified in the process, and become a monster in Katie's eyes. But if that's what it takes.... then that's what it takes.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary Entry recovered in Hotel Krasnapolsky in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Entry dated at February 18th, 2012.
Infected in Amsterdam. That was how it read. I felt chills run down my spine, and they kept coming back. My stomach churned and churned, like a whirlpool. I felt guilty. I feel guilty. I am guilty. I need to change it. I can change it. I can cure us. I can cure everything, I just need money, and time. Money is easy. Time isn't. But I'll figure it out. I have to. For Ellen. I can save Ellen. I can save the world.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary entry recovered from Intercontinental Harbor Court in Baltimore, Maryland. No date given.
Things haven't gone as planned. My client knew I was talking; they're after me. They only sent two men. Apparently they don't think much of me.
It was easy. It was 11:36 P.M., and the roads were still slick with rain from twenty minutes before. They were just leaving their hotel. Heading for me, as it were. I was patient. I waited eleven minutes, until they turned into a lonely little road without so much as a single pedestrian. The feeling, just before the kill... it was ecstasy. The familiarity of the pistol in my hand gave me a warm feeling. I took aim carefully. Two short, suppressed pops. Their bodies toppled over one another, and the holes in their heads rather unceremoniously spewed out blood. It wasn't pretty or romantic, but it was satisfying. I left them there.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: [email protected]
Subject: An Opportunity
Received: March 3rd, 2012
Doctor John Whitman,
Salutations. My name is Adam Ortega, I work for a research group named Talos Labs. We have been following your work closely and are considerably interested in having you join the team. Our primary objective is, of course, a cure to the infection. We believe that no other pharmacologist has come as close as you to accomplishing this objective. If you are interested, feel free to view our site. The password to enter is '718421'. If you want the job, just email me, and we will arrange travel.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary entry dated April 1st, 2012
I finally feel right. Back at work. Talos Labs has been good to me; a hell of a salary and all the materials and instruments I need to continue my work. Everyone here is as driven as I am to get a vaccine, and there's little fear that our progress will be impeded. Talos Labs is located on island off the coast of Gotland, a small island off the coast of Sweden. We're fully enclosed in a twelve-foot high wall which is maintained by a group of thirty security guards. I dare say that it's overkill, but it lets me focus completely on work. It is all that matters now.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
note recovered from inspection of a courier traveling from Gotland, Sweden to Lund, Sweden.
We created the infection. That wasn't our goal, but it was our creation nonetheless. Everyone acts like we had nothing to do with it. But it's our fault, and I can't take it anymore. I love you, Esperanza.
Adam Ortega
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
diary entry dated May 10th, 2012
Dr. Ortega, who recruited me, blew his brains out last night. He sneaked into the guard's quarters and took a pistol, then put a bullet up into his mouth. The Director of Pharmacology informed me that Dr. Ortega had been dealing with serious bouts of depression even before the infection started. God bless his soul.
We're close now. Our funds are seemingly limitless, and I've taken advantage of it. Dozens of possibilities have been eliminated, and we're narrowing the list down. Give it a month, and I think we'll have the vaccine.
Subject: We Were Wrong
Received: July 14th, 2011 6:07 AM
John,
The vaccine was shipped last month. It's been distributed all over. At first, the symptoms would fade and the patient would get better. However, several weeks after and the symptoms have been reappearing. John, we were wrong. The vaccine doesn't work. You need to come back to America, and soon. The Government is preparing to quarantine the entire country; all routes will be closed off, whether by land, air, or sea. If you don't make it in by next week, then you're going to be stuck in Spain for quite some time. Though I guess you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?
I cannot stress enough how important it is that you get back to Halcyon. You're team lead on the research and experimentation; we don't know where to go next and we need your help. Please.
Sincerely,
Ellen
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Ellen Caine <[email protected]>
Subject: Please Respond
Received: July 17th, 2011 7:16 PM
John,
I sent you an email 3 days ago, and you have yet to reply in any way. You must understand how crucial it is you make it back to the States before the quarantine goes into effect. The team has been experimenting with variations of the vaccine, but each attempt is little more than a shot in the dark. We need your research, and we need your knowledge. It’s been 3 months since you left. I miss you. Please respond.
Sincerely,
Ellen
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Dr. John Whitman <[email protected]>
Subject: [No Subject]
Received: September 9th, 2011 11:32 PM
Dear Ellen,
I apologize for my lack of correspondence. I have not had the opportunity to check my email; I have been incredibly busy here in London.
The first issue I must address is the vaccine: there is none. I was hired by a lab here, and we have tried dozens of different options, heavily based off of the research I've done with you and the team at Halcyon. My return would have been useless.
The second issue is one of far greater importance. The virus has spread here, and it is all our fault... We had three sedated test subjects shipped over to our lab for tests. On the third day of testing, our power went down, and the generator failed to restart quick enough. The bindings on the three subjects were compromised, and they escaped into London. This was a week ago. We have not released this information into the public, so as to ensure that we may continue our work. Let me state the obvious by saying that I tell you this in strict confidence.
Ellen, I wish you luck in America; the news does not paint a pretty picture.
With regards,
John Whitman
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: James Hanson <[email protected]>
Subject: Bad News
Received: September 10th, 11:03 AM
John,
As the subject implies, I have some bad news. Ellen succumbed to the virus several weeks ago. I was checking her email to gather a list of contacts to notify, and saw your email. You should know that the lab has also been shut down; we've been cleaning out for the last few days. Most major cities have been abandoned to let the infected take over; they're far too rabid to control. I hope things are better in Europe.
From,
James
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Boston Bulletin
October 14th, 2011
Terror Grips The Boston Harbor
written by Sarah Lenkowski
Just last evening, a flurry of reports came in that the infected are running rampant on the docks. Naval commerce has come to a halt as Boston, at last, experiences the terror of the virus. Thousands have now begun to flee from the city, heading into the countryside. I myself write this while my husband drives our minivan, along with our three children, out towards Wisconsin.
Many are surprised Boston lasted as long as it did, due to it being a coastal city and incredibly close to Ground Zero, the city formerly known as Washington D.C. Many owe our elongated safety to the presence of the National Guard. It's been four months since they arrived here, on order of the president to guard Halcyon Labs. The lab itself has been the talk of the town, due to the sudden disappearance of team leader John Whitman and the more recent and mysterious death of Ellen Cain. The lab was at last shut down last month, due to failure to produce any solid leads on the vaccine. Luckily, the National Guard has stayed with us.
Though the facts are in question and the details limited, it would appear that a cargo vessel from The Caribbean was stowing several infected. The ship's crew claimed ignorance when they were briefly questioned. When the news got out, the National Guard attempted to set up barricades; however, the infected had already gotten into the heart of the city. No official evacuation has been called, but almost anyone able has attempted leaving Boston. Nevertheless, thousands remain stranded. What we've garnered by viewing various social networking and media sites is that many have formed groups in the upper floors of skyscrapers, hoping the infected don't bother.
Well, my battery is almost dead, so here is me "signing off". I think this will be my last news report. Good luck to my fellow Bostonians, and Gvwaoinlalasfk;
Note: Report never published, found on laptop at site 32.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary Entry recovered at Halcyon on October 23rd, 2011. Location of rest of diary remains unknown.
September 7th, 2011
It’s been done. Ellen is dead, and my contract is complete. I’ll admit that I was hesitant at first; I’ve been working with Ellen for several months now. I hold no personal grudge against her: business is business. But there’s no need to dwell on such things.
The kill wasn’t easy; I think she suspected, near the end, that I wasn’t really a chemist. I at first planned on giving her a poisoned drink, but when I offered it to her she refused. So I waited; eventually Katie went to get a coke for Ellen. I distracted her and slipped poison in the drink; Ellen died in her sleep.
I think it’s better this way; Ellen is a brilliant woman, but easily moved, and watching her country be torn apart would only horrify her. She’s in heaven now, away from the pain. She doesn’t have to watch her loved ones die, she doesn’t need to feel the sting of John’s betrayal. That man did not deserve such a woman, especially after fleeing across the Atlantic. They didn’t know I was aware of their relationship; then again, they also didn’t know that I’m an assassin. I can only imagine how they would handle it; of course, I think they’d be far more horrified if they found out who my client was.
I’m finally leaving Boston; all in all, this has been a success. I think I’ll use the name James again. I like it.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Henri LeMonde <[email protected]>
Subject: [No Subject]
Received: November 8th, 2011
John,
I'm giving you a warning. Interpol is after you. We're old friends, and I trust that whatever you did, you did for the right reasons. I have an old friend in London who makes discreet flights out of the country and the continent. Below is his information. You need to get out tonight. Next time we meet, you owe me a drink.
Henri
Douglas White
44-071-436-8989
(mention my name)
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary Entry recovered in Hotel Krasnapolsky in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Entry dated at January 7th, 2012. The numerous grammar and vocabulary errors have been corrected.
I'm forty five years old and here I am, writing in a dairy like some god-damned schoolgirl. But hell, I don't care anymore.
I don't care about much anymore. I gave my whole life to the grand pursuit of science, and all I got out of it was the hatred of every fucking person in the world. The world... too big, if you ask me. At least my old world was. My new world, I think I like it. Cheap, shitty beer and cheap, shitty women. Humanity may end this year but there are still whores on every street corner, and every bar is still stocked with enough liquor to flood these canals three times over. But it's better than being dead. Though I am mostly dead. I haven't used my real name for so long now. John. They used to call me John. Some people still do, but mostly they don't.
It's always better than being dead, but I guess that's because I'm an Atheist. Or maybe that's why I'm an Atheist. I don't know, I'm pretty drunk. I used to never drink. I would say, 'I need to focus on my work.' And I would say, 'Alcohol is just an inhibitor of success.' And now I say bring me drinks! Bring me more drinks!
[Following 3 lines corrupted due to liquid spill]
I think if they gave me another month, I would've had the vaccine. A real vaccine. I was so close, then those hippy bastards had to rain on my parade. They said the experiments were "abhorrent violations of morality and the basic rights of any human." Fuck them. I was quite literally trying to save the world, but the Europeans see this as a purely American affair. Bullshit. There are already reports of outbreaks in Eastern Russia. It'll keep spreading. I guess the world's gonna end in 2012 after all.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The following is a written transcript of events captured by a convenience store security camera; transcript is to be submitted for evidence.
[2 persons within the gas station: cashier and customer. Cashier - female, approximately 25 years of age, approximately 5'9'', brown hair. Customer - male, approximately 40 years of age, approximately 6'2'', blond hair.]
[Customer approaches cashier, purchases a six-pack Budweiser Light beer (alcoholic beverage)]
[Second customer enters. Second customer - male, approximately 30 years of age, approximately 6'1'', dark brown hair.]
[Second customer is clearly infected. Attacks first customer, disorients]
[Cashier reaches for item beneath the counter, assumed weapon]
[Second customer leaps over counter, assaults cashier]
[Second customer and cashier obscured from camera's view for 11 seconds, violence is assumed]
[Second customer returns to first customer; cannibalizes for 6 minutes, 17 seconds]
[Second customer leaves at sounds of police sirens*]
*Infected adapting?
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary entry recovered from Intercontinental Harbor Court in Baltimore, Maryland. No date given.
I visited Ellen's grave yesterday. I'm thankful Katie took Ellen's body with her when she left Boston. Of course, I didn't know that at first, but we bumped into each other. We had coffee. I guess it was because I was more focused on my work, but I had never realized how beautiful Katie was. Not just externally (though she was certainly physically attractive), but within as well. She was warm and optimistic; in my line of work, cold and closed off is the standard. We had sex. No, we made love. I think it was the best I've ever had.
But I digress. Visiting Ellen's grave was quite unlike anything I've ever done; I'm not a sentimental person. At least, I didn't think I was. But when I saw that name set in stone, tears welled up. I broke down into sobs. I can't remember the last time I've cried, much less sobbed. I'm breaking. As I sat there, I thought about my life. I don't really do that. But the question that came up, keeps coming up. Why am I a hitman? I don't have an answer, beyond that I'm good at it. But there has to be more to life. I know there has to be.
[the passage of some time is assumed between previous and forthcoming sections]
I've resolved to make a change. For the better. I'm going to reveal my client to the world. I'll likely be crucified in the process, and become a monster in Katie's eyes. But if that's what it takes.... then that's what it takes.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary Entry recovered in Hotel Krasnapolsky in Amsterdam, Netherlands. Entry dated at February 18th, 2012.
Infected in Amsterdam. That was how it read. I felt chills run down my spine, and they kept coming back. My stomach churned and churned, like a whirlpool. I felt guilty. I feel guilty. I am guilty. I need to change it. I can change it. I can cure us. I can cure everything, I just need money, and time. Money is easy. Time isn't. But I'll figure it out. I have to. For Ellen. I can save Ellen. I can save the world.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary entry recovered from Intercontinental Harbor Court in Baltimore, Maryland. No date given.
Things haven't gone as planned. My client knew I was talking; they're after me. They only sent two men. Apparently they don't think much of me.
It was easy. It was 11:36 P.M., and the roads were still slick with rain from twenty minutes before. They were just leaving their hotel. Heading for me, as it were. I was patient. I waited eleven minutes, until they turned into a lonely little road without so much as a single pedestrian. The feeling, just before the kill... it was ecstasy. The familiarity of the pistol in my hand gave me a warm feeling. I took aim carefully. Two short, suppressed pops. Their bodies toppled over one another, and the holes in their heads rather unceremoniously spewed out blood. It wasn't pretty or romantic, but it was satisfying. I left them there.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: [email protected]
Subject: An Opportunity
Received: March 3rd, 2012
Doctor John Whitman,
Salutations. My name is Adam Ortega, I work for a research group named Talos Labs. We have been following your work closely and are considerably interested in having you join the team. Our primary objective is, of course, a cure to the infection. We believe that no other pharmacologist has come as close as you to accomplishing this objective. If you are interested, feel free to view our site. The password to enter is '718421'. If you want the job, just email me, and we will arrange travel.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Diary entry dated April 1st, 2012
I finally feel right. Back at work. Talos Labs has been good to me; a hell of a salary and all the materials and instruments I need to continue my work. Everyone here is as driven as I am to get a vaccine, and there's little fear that our progress will be impeded. Talos Labs is located on island off the coast of Gotland, a small island off the coast of Sweden. We're fully enclosed in a twelve-foot high wall which is maintained by a group of thirty security guards. I dare say that it's overkill, but it lets me focus completely on work. It is all that matters now.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
note recovered from inspection of a courier traveling from Gotland, Sweden to Lund, Sweden.
We created the infection. That wasn't our goal, but it was our creation nonetheless. Everyone acts like we had nothing to do with it. But it's our fault, and I can't take it anymore. I love you, Esperanza.
Adam Ortega
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
diary entry dated May 10th, 2012
Dr. Ortega, who recruited me, blew his brains out last night. He sneaked into the guard's quarters and took a pistol, then put a bullet up into his mouth. The Director of Pharmacology informed me that Dr. Ortega had been dealing with serious bouts of depression even before the infection started. God bless his soul.
We're close now. Our funds are seemingly limitless, and I've taken advantage of it. Dozens of possibilities have been eliminated, and we're narrowing the list down. Give it a month, and I think we'll have the vaccine.
