Who: Biological Warfare and OPEN What: Will needs a new victim test subject Where: Grand Central Terminal When: Early Monday evening Warnings: Language, probably more TBD
Biological Warfare was not at all like his --he shuddered to even think the word-- relatives. He was a scientist, not some petty warmonger despearte to show off guns and strategies and other shows of simple brute strength. His was a life of constant testing, experimentation, and observation; there was no sense in rushing perfection when it came to creating a perfect biological agent.
He had finished the initial creation phase a few weeks ago, tweaking a strain of Francisella tularensis to his exacting standards. It had the potential to be a magnificent weapon, but he had to test it first. His last girlfriend had, regretfully, perished some days ago as a result of paralytic shellfish poisoning... according to the authorities, anyway. That was what he liked about saxitoxin. But that was entirely beside the point. He needed to test this strain of tularemia and to do that, he needed a new test subject.
That was how William found himself in Grand Central Terminal on a Monday evening, standing off to the side and watching the travelers go by. He was infinitely picky about his test subjects, and to find one often took him weeks. Will didn't mind, though. Over the years, he'd grown to appreciate the people-watching aspect of his work. Mortals were such funny little things, always good for quality entertainment when he needed it. Hopefully tonight would provide just such amusement.