別の / Another - Puro X Male Reader

Chapter 6: 50 caliber

--=Narrator's POV=--
2 weeks have passed.
K, the white latex wolf, sat down in his office.
He missed Pi. His lab was emptier, and much less alive without him.
He fired up his old computer in the lab. Incredible how, even though they were always ahead in terms of technology advancement, some researchers like K had to use computers running Windows Vista with a Pentium 3 and 3 gigabytes of RAM.
His boss managed the cash consumption, though, so it was more than predictable.
His boss...
The gas mask became blurry, as K let out a deep sigh. There wasn't a cure. But he had 2 more weeks. His former family was OK, and after all... there were more things to try out.

...Or were there?
The wolf thought, as he considered new hypothesis.
Morphing into a latex monster was easy and all... but it wasn't being easy to come back to his original form.
He did not want to morph back himself - the disease worried him, and he, a man of science, knew better than to put his efforts to look like a human again, if it made him vulnerable to diseases like the virus currently spreading.
Finally, the computer booted. K tried to enter his password, but a few, not unusual, error messages popped up, blocking his way into the username and password text boxes. They were prone to happen; something had happened when he spilled some water on the keyboard connected to the PC. But that was unlikely to happen. The few error messages had very litte information about the problem, so he dismissed them, and entered his credentials.
Reminded of his boss again, he impatiently waited for the "Welcome" loading screen to go away. But then again, a processor from the bronze age of computers was not helping.
Finally, he was greeted with his desktop.
Doctor K loaded the results for the experiments over the last few weeks. He had tried every single substance mix he could remember with some white creatures, unfortunately to no avail. Black creatures weren't worth a shot, since they were rivals but practically the same, and what wouldn't work on one wouldn't work on the other.
He had no human DNA samples, or anything that was actually useful. And he wasn't daring to go out there to purposedly try to find humans - he'd be beaten in the best case scenario, since people would mistake him for someone who had enough money to pay the cure. This was wrong, of course, since he invented it himself, but that wouldn't help a lot.
Dr. K got up from his computer. He went to the opposite side of his room, filled with storage boxes containing paperwork. He counted those boxes, and selected the third one counting from the right. After opening it, he removed the first 20 reports, and between specially cut sheets of blank paper, he took what would give him the most security.
A handgun lied in his hand. To be more precise, a Desert Eagle made by Magnum Industries. When he purchased it, he didn't buy too much ammo - he bought a pair of Action Express 50 caliber mags, which was somewhat expensive, at least for his paycheck.

He hid each mag in his pockets, under his lab coat, and the weapon itself between his belt and his jeans. He usually had informal clothing under his absolutely mandatory white coat. He wouldn't use the gun unless necessary.
The doctor sat back on his chair. His phone dinged, a new message in his inbox.

It was his boss.
Oh no, more death threats. If he had the balls to actually try and find a solution, it'd be much easier.

The message read:
I have access to every single report you saved on your computer. You're not doing any progress. You have two more weeks until you can say goodbye to your older family. As proof I don't bluff, here's a little gift for you, you worthless piece of junk.
The message came with a video file attached - called proof.mp4.
The wolf felt a heavy blow on his stomach. So, not only does he not do shit about this, he's... what even is this video?
A single tap on the attached file showed something that appeared to be capturing the sight of a sniper rifle, being pointed at a window where his... daughter was.

Some years ago, when K was about to release the cure for the virus, his daughter, 23 at the time, was absolutely against it, claiming that God wouldn't want us to modify our body since he gave it to us the way it should be. He couldn't do anything but disagree. Her daughter had since moved out of K's barely used appartment, since he practically lived at his facility, and it wasn't located in an affordable or practical location for her daughter. They had since grown apart to the point of barely talking every month. He wasn't proud of it... but he was doing what he loved.

The scope was being pointed directly at his daughter's head - a bit over her head, actually, as to make sure the bullet wouldn't lose enough height to fail the shot.

The doctor stood there in absolute silence.
This wasn't something he could solve with the police - since the police wasn't worried about blackmailing, and instead was busy blocking the riots on major cities.
There was nothing he could do but to try to find a cure.

...Or...

The doctor left his room. Slamming the door, he rushed into the elevator, somewhat unseen by the other night shift workers.

The doctor wove his keycard over the huge monitor.
He checked both his magazines hidden in his pockets, and then the gun itself.

This threat wasn't going to end well for one of them.