The carcass on the next virus laid on your medical table. Spending hours slaving away at essays and lengthy assignments somehow let you to be a higher scientist at S.T.A.R.S.

Everyone wanted your creations. Each virus you made had been sold for evil much to your dismay. You wanted to make a new species to enhance the world behavior. Yet, mutations were made for the strongest civilians to take out.

The blonde man stood over the suitcase holding, if not, your deadliest weapon yet.

He was aware of the dangers that you made but never thought anything bad of them. It amazed him how intelligent you are just for your creations to be used again Mother Nature.

“What’s this virus going to be called?” he hums, his face still holding his normal stoic expression.