The bleeding of number 12

The Conflict and APRs

The hellicopter was airborne over canary wharf by the time twelve's unlikely saviors had treated his wounds. but he could still not rid himself of the image of his dying attackers final moments. the hideous voice of his horrific creation. then his thoughts drifted to the final day before the act that had led to this nightmare. he had only wanted to be succesful in saving the world. what that wish had led him to do was not ok, but it had been justified in some way. all his anger at Nasir's attempt on his life was ok. he was a human too. then a doubt crept in. you, it whispered. you could have talked to him, remained calm, backed down. given it to him. all you were thinking about was self-preservation. and in your act, you proved him right. you created the bleeding. you wiped out the planet. you are the herald. the harbinger. it is your own self fullfilling prophecy. your lucky he survived.

then he realised what he had just been thinking.

What?! Nasir survived the assault? NO!

He was shaken. had Nasir forgiven him? And what effect had the bleeding had on him? all those scars...

his heart thumped. persperation on his brow...

in a nearby building, a scarred man with a black suit and left eye glowing red, stared at the flying hellicopter. flipping open a cellphone, he began to dial a number.

"Hello? yes. he is in the chopper. give the order in...10...9... ".

twelve was dreaming an uneasy dream about a full course dinner of steak and chips when it happened.

"RPG!!"

The pilot desperately tried to gain more altitude. but it was far too late.

Boom. it struck the tail of the chopper. head on. the tail fin exploded in spectacular fashion and the stricken helicopter began to plummet towards the ground, it landed on the nearest building with a gut-wrenching sound of shrieking, tearing metal. The pilot was flung in his seat, hitting his head on the dashboard. it broke, revealing delicate circuitry. electric current tore through the poor sod, and he died in his seat. the remaining soldiers scrambled clear, but Twelve was just crying out, inside, literally. it was just all wrong, he wanted to scream. all dying men. all wrong. yet he was alive. so very, very wretchedly alive. the men were panicking, shouting, worried that they were still under attack.

"get in fucking cover, now!!" the platoon leader yelled. twelve struggled with his seat-belt, hoping that he could free himself and go back to wandering the streets near canary warf. deep in reminiscence.

No. not anymore. there were men dying. and all because of,-

"No!"

he tore himself free from the confines of his belt and tore out of the interior of the chopper. into the open. One of the soldiers turned to face him, anger turned to hope.

" Follow me! get into the Building. Hurry!"

The soldier ran. Twelve followed. Praying.

Nearby in the derelict building, Ibrahim Nasir stood staring at the ruins of the helicopter. smoke drifted up from the wreck. he smiled the cold icy smile of somebody who only cared about one thing. victory over an annoying adversary.

in this case,12.

now he had his revenge.

the voice of the bleeding came to him. sibilant and sinister. "your first blood, Nasir. and never your last. blood is the life force of all. "

he silently looked into his reflection. his left eye was a glowing bleeding red.

it was getting worse. his infection was a powerful one. potent. invasive.

the bleeding was insidious.

"i am a part of you. you will be instrumental in our takeover of the earth."

He held his head for a moment.

The Voice of the virus was a painful thing to hear. he should resist it. it was corrupting.

even perverse.

all because of Twelve. throwing the virus at him. it had seeped in through a cut on his arm. the DNA modifying fluid had done its deed.

He was one of them now. An extention of the will of the Bleeding itself.

"he is alone now. undefended. take him down." its voice hissed in his mind.