STATS - 1 -  2 - 3 - 4 - DRAGON - MORE PATHOGENS

Vyrusa breathed heavily as she felt the baby making it's way out. How she could ever had been so stupid to let Bascil talk her in to this idea! He wasn't the one that had carried the thing for 9 months. 9 months of an aching back, swollen ankles, cravings and mood swings... at times she had been happy! For crying out loud!
"Bascil!" she screamed.
From downstairs, where her no good husband and the two dragons were hiding came the voice of Bascil answering her call:
"What's wrong?" he asked.
The b******, like he didn't know...
"What's wrong?! I'll tell you what's wrong! Everything!!!" she yelled back.
Finally Bascil came up the stairs, guided by the angry bugles of Tuberculosith who felt her pain. At least she still had some support. She looked at Bascil with eyes that almost burned him down. He shuddered. Good. For a few seconds she was content. But those seconds didn't last very long.
"What took you so long?" she snarled at him.
"Two stairs and a trip around Tuberculosith." he bluntly said, "What do you need?"
"Whatever humans need in this situation, warm water and a midwife!" she said.
She watched and saw her words had the effect she had wanted them to have. Good, let him feel uncertain, scared and angry for a while. She giggled when she saw him nearly miss the stairs.
One thing could be said for Bascil, he got the midwife fast. Probably the work of the dragons though, she thought. The midwife immediately started helping and coaching her. Telling her what to do. Vyrusa hated it, but she knew the midwife knew what she was doing and she herself didn't.
Suddenly a pain worse than anything Vyrusa had ever felt before, and she had survived some of the worst antibiotics, hit her. She screamed.
But after that final scream she felt a burst of relief and knew it was over. The midwife had the baby and she gave it to Bascil. She couldn't quite see what her child looked like. She hadn't thought she would be curious, she had carried the thing around for nine months, she felt like she should know it, like she had known her other babes.
"What's her name?" The midwife asked.
"Ebola." Vyrusa said, smiling. So she had been right about it being a girl...

"I'm telling you there's something wrong with her!" Bascil said.
"Come on! she's just a bay, you know how babies are, weak, we've killed a lot of them." Vyrusa answered. It was the evening of the same day. Vyrusa still felt battered, sore and exhausted, but she had recovered enough to feed her baby and talk to Bascil.
"No, when she was born she looked around before she started screaming. She was already breathing! That isn't normal."
Vyrusa turned herself toward the baby and said: "Don't mind daddy, he's seeing white blood cells where there are none."

Ebola looked up and squealed. She would have to be careful... Her father knew about her. She played around with her hands a bit to fool her mother. She would have to be the perfect baby so no-one would suspect her...That would be hard, she loved being in the center of attention. Never had she had to disguise her victims, because people feared her. This life however was too precious to ruin. It would help her achieve her goal... mass destruction. Not an entire country, not an entire continent, but entire worlds...

Ebola sat in her crib listening to the wind. It told her her parents were leaving again. There voices faded and deformed, but she could still understand them. That would mean she'd get another babysitter. She giggled.
"Oh look at little Ebola being happy!" Vyrusa exclaimed.
Her father only shrugged and got his partner out of the babychamber as soon as he could. About 5 minutes later her mother returned, followed by a sweet young girl, maybe 15 years of age, blond and beautiful, though her face had a lot of acne.
"We'll be back by one o'clock." Vyrusa said.
"Anything I need to know?" the young woman asked.
"No, Ebola is a fun kid to be around, We don't have a lot of trouble with her." Vyrusa said.
Ebola looked up at her mother, made some saliva run down her mouth and went "Graaah?" She sat down and started playing with her toys. Inside however she listened. Listened for the wind to tell her if the dragons were going with. She never had been able to elude Tetnus. Like her father he saw right through her. Tuberculosith however liked her as much as her mother. Soon however she heard the dragons taking off.
The babysitter soon left her playing and went out to the main chamber to read something. Ebola crawled out of her crib and carefully erected herself. This tiny body wasn't perfect, but it had it's advantages. No-one ever expected a toddler. Swift, like a dear running from a hunting party she ran to the other side of the room, her feet making soft tapping noises on the floor. She looked through an opening in the curtain that led to the main chamber and saw her babysitter laying in the couch, the book in front of her nose.
"Let's have some fun!" she thought and coughed softly to the girl.
Ebola herself would never be sick, but she knew she could inflict a lot of damage on humans, and not only the disease her name suggested. No, for this type of fun, she needed a very painful, long term disease that wouldn't be too infectious. She didn't want to kill off all her toys at once.
She turned round and for a moment hesitated. What would be the fun in having her slowly decay without her there to see it? A little preview wouldn't hurt. Ebola turned again and blew a strand of her hair in the girls direction. Quickly Ebola turned around and crawled back in her bed, but she left the opening in the drapes. She would enjoy the show.
A scream soon sounded through the house and Ebola closed one eye and yawned when she saw the girl enter. Her face was covered in boils. The girl looked in a mirror and screamed even harder.
Ebola chuckled softly and got up in her crib. She wanted to get a closer look. Suddenly the girl turned round and started to run for the curtain. This wasn't good... If the girl got out she'd have to find her, and a one year old that wasn't even supposed to crawl much couldn't be seen running through the village. Her father would piece things together and she'd be locked up. That couldn't be.
Ebola started to cry. It worked! The girl turned to her and started talking:
"I can't come near you, I could be contagious... Oh my God, what if I'm going to die? What if I die now?" the girl started panicking and looked into the mirror again. Suddenly one of the big boils burst open, puss oozing out. Ebola couldn't control herself. She laughed. The girl fainted when she saw the wound in the mirror.
Time for phase 2. Ebola crawled out of her crib again, dragged the girl to the couch, threw her in and healed her. Yes, she could heal, but there'd be a day she wouldn't need to heal the toys she toyed around with anymore. But it would be wiser for now. No-one could find her when she was still frail. She was strong, yes, but she couldn't win from a man 5 times her size. She'd be doomed.
Afterwards she ran back to her crib and waited for her parents to arrive. When they finally did, they entered with quite some noise, waking up the babysitter. With a scream she aroused from her involuntary slumber.
"My face!" she screamed.
"What?" she heard Bascil asking.
"My face! The boils..." the babysitter jumped up and fell back down.
"There's nothing wrong with your face dear." her mother said.
"You must have dreamed, everything is ok." her father finished.
Little did they know the girl would be dead within the year. Cancer of the Blood would do his work silently and thoroughly.

Ebola knew the cat was around here somewhere... The darn thing always insisted on playing hide and seek when they were alone together. Of course she could kill it, but Ebola had learned healing could be quite the entertaining skill too.
"Zero!" she called.
She saw a
small piece of brown fur sticking out from under the sofa. Aha! That was where the cat had gone too. Ebola giggled. The cat heard her coming and fled before she could get close enough to grab it. Ebola ran after it, too fast for a 5-year old and way too graceful. The cat however was still faster. He jumped up a large closet and looked down. Ears flat in his neck.
Ebola was displeased. Very displeased. Why did the stupid cat run away from her? She only wanted to play! The older part of her soul..; the part that had been sinking deeper when she got older gave her an answer: Things don't like to get sick...But it is too fun to stop.
Ebola, silent for a moment trying to grasp this insight, looked up.  The cat hissed at her and then turned away. The voice had said it was too fun to stop... 
"Ebola?" Her mother asked.
"Mommy!" she cried out happy.
"What were you doing?"
"Zero." Ebola replied in that tone 5-year olds posses where they say something like it is only THE most important thing in the world and you wouldn't get it because you are stupid.
"Leave the cat alone dear, he doesn't like to play."
Her mother picked her up and carried her to her playpen. Ebola wanted to play with her mother, but something deep inside kept her from it. Something she had known. Ebola shrugged. She could play with her toys...


Lantessama Isle  -  Sanrix Azon