The Virus Stealer

5 - Environment Change. [REWRITTEN]

"Where are we going?" Alek asks, stuffing his single strap backpack with clothes that he received from Jacob and Denmark. Since his death was a lie, it wasn't right to return to his family and friends. Five years did pass, so it was reasonable to see himself dead.

"To a new city. Since you work under me now, you would need to come with me. Of course, Aleken Davelin is dead. So we would need to change your name, date of birth, all of that," Jacob said. He would put on his hiking backpack. The backpack was suitable for exploring of course. He wanted to go light so he wouldn't be delayed by other unnecessary luggage.

"What about my blood type? My height? My family?"

"We'll just say that you are Denmark's younger brother. Your height can still be the same but your blood type is, er," he would pause. It was reasonable to think about it since Alek is half dead. Half of his blood is his regular blood while his other half is a mixture of black and purple and abnormal. The virus.

"What about Rh-null?" Denmark asks, coming into the room surprising Alek.

"What's that?"

"Rarest blood type for humans. You have the rarest blood for humans obviously, except it's not Rh-null,"

"But that's Rh-null, Dennis," Jacob cuts in. "If we make it show that Alek has Rh-null blood type, that means that he would be able to give blood to anyone else since it's compatible with anyone with a different blood type,"

"Yeah, but it's not like he's going to donate his blood to anyone. Plus, his blood didn't fully mix,"

"Well, good point. The only time that people will ask for your blood is if you are transferring blood to another Rh-null person, which would be god damn rare," Jacob chuckles.

"Are we done talking about my blood?" Alek asks. He didn't get the chance to say anything. Nor did he try.

"Yes. From now on, you are Jason Collins. You are 5'9' tall, 26 years old and Denmark's younger brother,"

"How old are you anyway?" Alek looks over at Denmark who was leaning against the doorway. It seems that he was waiting for the two to finish packing their belongings.

"Me? I'm 32,"

"You're that old?! You look so young-" A grappling hook was slammed into his chest, causing him to fall onto his knees.

"I'm not that old, you brat," his grappling hook would retract back to his launcher, which would be tucked underneath his sleeves.

They return to the military's headquarters where Denmark and Jacob work. Alek didn't know the name of the corporation in the first place, so he finds it comfortable yet uncomfortable at the same time to return.

"What do you mean that there is no transportation left?" Den asks, looking at the two soldiers. A man and a woman. They wear blue fatigues and trousers with black combat boots.

"I'm sorry, sir. But the last squadron took the last humvee. We only have motorcycles left over and they are mainly for our recon team," the male responded.

"Motorcycles..?" Alek mumbles.

"How much motorcycles do we have, what type, and is there any recon teams taking the motorcycles?" Den was just throwing questions at the two poor soldiers. The female soldier went over to an active terminal.

They can see her going into the logs and mission reviews. It's safe to assume that she is checking the terminal to see if there is a recon team taking any motorcycles at some point later for their missions.