Diablo 3 Armory - Unofficial Diablo 3 Fansite

Guys, I have some serious writers block. I wrote this a while ago, dusted it off and started writing again to realize I can't think of how to advance the story. Any suggestions? All ideas are mine originally and I did this with minimal research. Here it is (really long):

- - -

Retrovirus

Tsst. The sound of a ***e can being opened was music to Jason Oh’s ears. He took a sip, bloodshot eyes darting across the GenMAPP display for any changes in the fly genome. He stretched backwards, closing and massaging his eyes. Jason looked at the clock. It was 1:39 AM.

Jason’s eyes shifted back to the GenMAPP screen, juxtaposing it with a screen with no altercation. He put it into the new MAC (Micro ****ysis Chamber). According to the reading, there was no difference. Jason decided to head home, his shift was long over, but he didn’t want to leave the Affymetrix complex at his usual time of 10:00, else the press would hound him for details on the experiments.

Jason was a genetic scientist, coming from Philips Academy Andover, the top high school, to Yale University, the top college, then proceeded to obtain his Doctorate of Medical Science at Harvard. In short, Jason was a very bright young man, and one of the youngest geneticists at a youthful age of twenty-four. His energy and creativity were what landed him a spot at one of the most important genetic experiments in the history of Affymetrix, and possibly, if the experiment was successful, in the world. Jason was working on retroviruses, viruses that reproduce by means of a DNA host.

Affymetrix was working on a retrovirus that could possibly cure any disease known to mankind, which is possible because retroviruses hijack host cells as a DNA intermediate to reproduce. When retroviruses take over DNA cells, they splice their respective ribonucleic acid (RNA) into the host cell, which can radically change the genes in the cell. However, if a retrovirus infects a sperm, the cells that form from the sperm are also infected from the retrovirus. In effect, half of the respective organism is a virus. Jason was trying to figure out a way create a retrovirus with built in immunity for diseases and complications such as influenza, the common cold, even HIV and AIDS, all the way to diabetes and high cholesterol.

The storm of thoughts started to calm down inside Jason’s head. He headed back to his new Toyota Avalon in the company parking lot. Ever since he landed his position on the genetics team, his salary was raised over quadruple, and Jason was earning close to $500,000 a year, plus a handsome commission of $100,000. The first thing he did with his commission was to buy his new Avalon. The second thing Jason did was buy a handsome condo in Santa Clara, about six minutes away from his work place, with the rest of his commission and his savings.

Jason pulled into his parking spot, locked his car, and went home. After peeling off his clothes, he went to sleep in his underwear, completely exhausted.

* * *

The next morning, Chris took a look at the people in the conference room. Genentech, Inc. was also onto the retrovirus scheme. Apparently, some hotshot researcher at Affymetrix down in Santa Clara was on his way to cracking the last barrier to the retrovirus. Chris knew that if Affymetrix caught the thunder of the retrovirus, most other genetic research organizations would be paralyzed, especially Genentech, because of its relative proximity to Affymetrix.

“We need to stop these guys through any way possible! Blackmail! Anything!” yelled one of the financial advisors.

“That’s not the best course of action. If the press got hold of any sort of black dealings, Genentech would be screwed beyond repair,” replied the public relations advisor matter-of-factly.

“Heh, what are we supposed to do then? Sit here and twiddle our thumbs?” asked a representative.

“I advise,” boomed Chris, “Just, uhh. Well hire someone to do some background research, and hit them with all we have. Meeting adjourned.”

“Yes, Chairman Won,” the advisors muttered.

* * *

Galen surveyed the entire mess of papers in front of him, and sighed. Sometimes he wondered whether it was worth doing this freelance dirty work, digging deep into the Internet and bribing financial officers at banks to find good ammo to be used against whatever company was asked of him. Right now he was looking up something about Affymetrix, but he didn’t know why. Some exec from Genentech plopped a thick, heavy manila envelope onto his desk and told him to look up dirt on Affymetrix.

Galen hated it when people kept him in the dark. He looked outside, gazing abstractly at the fog collecting around the Bay.

* * *

“Yo, Jason!” someone yelled. Jason looked up from the GenMAPP. It was Grace, the indominable matriarch of the genetics lab. A small, sharp object hit him in the cheek and dropped to the floor with a jangle. The utter surprise dropped him to the floor.

Am I dead? wondered Jason. No, the blood on his cheek said otherwise. No one had told him heaven would be painful.

“Oh, whoops. I didn’t mean for the teeth to hit you. Sorry Jason, I hope you’re ok,” said Grace half-heartedly.

“Oh, yea, I’m great,” muttered Jason, “Peachy. Jim Dandy. Couldn’t be better.”

“Well anyway, an exec from the sixth floor told me to give this key to you. Use it at the Post Office nearby, box, err,” Grace paused, looking at her hand. “Oh, its box 229.”

“Whatever. Hey Grace, do me a favor and shut down this GenMAPP for me, willya? Thanks,” said Jason, rushing out the door.

He went downstairs towards his Avalon. Jason revved the engine and roared out the parking complex, nearly running over several reporters. Then, as he was braking, a drop of something red plopped onto his white leather seat. After screaming a few choice words, Jason picked up a stray napkin and started to clean up.

Jason pulled over at the Post Office. He went inside the wing with security boxes. He opened his box with his key and pulled out the box.

When he peered inside, he was surprised to see a thick envelope, no doubt “encouragement” to work harder on his project. Jason was about to shove the box back in when he heard a rattle on the bottom. He reached into the box.

It was a Compact Smith & Wesson CS45 Pistol. There was a note attached. He read it, and with a confused expression, he pocketed the firearm in his coat pocket.

* * *

Galen rushed into the Chairman Won’s office, his face beet red.

“Sir, I found something monumental!” he exclaimed.

“Hmm? What is it, Mr. Wrubel?” Chris asked.

“It’s… umm… financial records!” Galen said, rummaging through his messenger bag. He pulled out a small dossier and slapped it on the desk.

“All companies have financial records, Mr. Wrubel. What is so special about Affymetrix’s? Or did you just waste your time and breath by shuffling into my office so hastily?” asked Chris, slightly scornful.

“No, no. See, what I have found is that Affymetrix has long been bankrupt!”

“Then how would they commit themselves to their research? If you haven’t noticed, Affymetrix is about to crush genetic companies across the world with its breakthrough research!”

“Mr. Won. Affymetrix has been on loans for a period of almost six months. So, what they are doing is a all or nothing race to the retrovirus!”

Chris thought for a moment. This was a major breakthrough. Any tiny disturbance of the experimentation would probably result in the collapse of Affymetrix, and Genentech would pull ahead of the pack.

“Milk it for all it has,” he advised.

* * *

Jason pulled into the McDonald’s drive in.

“Good evening, welcome to McDonald’s, how may I take your order?” tinned out a slightly Asian accented voice.

“Yeah, umm… Could I get a number four with two of those apple pie things?” yelled Jason at the voice box.

“That will be seven dollars and forty three cents, please pull up to the pick-up window.”

Jason pulled up to the pick up window.

“Here is your order, thank you for coming to McDonalds,” said the server.

“Hikari? Is that you?” asked Jason.

“Omigod JASON!” the server exclaimed. “Here, my shift ends in like five minutes! Meet me inside, I gotta go change now.”

Jason picked up his baggie and parked his car next to a dinky old Camry and walked into the McDonalds.

“Jason!” Hikari exclaimed. She gave him a big hug.

“Uhh… hey…” Jason said, his cheeks rosy.

Hikari was an old friend from high school in Philips Andover. Her future was very bright, she had perfect grades, the best extracurricular records to boot. After a while, Jason and Hikari started to date each other, first as a joke and to socialize, but eventually as a true relationship. She was eventually accepted into all the colleges she applied for, and chose to go to Yale, to follow Jason.

However, in her sophomore year, her father died in a fatal car crash that also severely wounded her mother. The death of her father sunk her into a deep depression in which she could not recover, and Hikari dropped out of college, sinking into a full blown depression accompanied with alcoholism.

Jason tried and tried to pull Hikari out of her condition, but Hikari refused. The tensions rose, and the relationship between them broke, almost unsalvageable until just now. Hikari ended her alcoholism with a city program, and was now looking for a good job so she could secure herself.

“So, what’s up with you?” Hikari asked.

“Well, I’ve been working at this place called Affymetrix…” Jason said. They talked and caught up for over an hour over crispy French fries, rebuilding lost friendships and love.

* * *

Grace got up from bed, slipping into some comfy pants and pouring herself a glass of pomegranate juice. She noticed a tear in her comfort pants and sighed, but decided to get out the sewing kit for once, instead of just buying a new pair.

Grace cooked four eggs, one for her, one for her husband, and two for her increasingly hungry adolescent son Nate. She cut some apples and set them on a plate, then peeled and cut a banana.

Grace set all these comestibles onto four plates so they looked oh-so-picture perfect, and put them on the table right as her husband and son came downstairs.

Nate plopped down, his hair still disheveled from sleep. He seemed to process the presence of food in front of him before he started to mechanically shovel food into his mouth.

“Morning, honey,” said her husband, Tim. Tim was thirty-one, two years older than Grace. He planted a peck on her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not pleasant to have two ancient relics kiss each other to be the first image of my morning,” Nate said, waving his fork reproachfully.

“Honey, just go upstairs and change… don’t miss the bus!” Grace ordered.

* * *

Galen surveyed the large briefcase filled with cash Chris had paid him for his services in taking down Affymetrix. He sighed, the long journey was finally over.

* * *

The scarred mercenary was a pro. He served Marine time, even had two tours in the First Gulf War. After his time of duty, he did some freelance work with clients he picked up as he started his hired hands business. He went through some nasty stuff, even had to do some hand to hand combat in multiple cases.

Yet now, here he was, tracking some backwater lawyer-ish kind of guy. At least the pay was good.

Jack closed the hood of the black car, and hurried to a corner, lying in wait.

* * *

Galen was walking in the parking lot towards his black Civic when he heard a nearly silent scuffling sound behind him.

He turned around to see a terrifyingly long silencer barrel right at him.

“Give me the briefcase,” croaked a barely human voice.

Galen was paralyzed with fear.

“The briefcase,” he repeated.

Wordlessly, he handed over the brown case.

“Your life is spared. Go talk to the Chairman,” said the man. He started walking down the stairs.

* * *

Galen was shaking when he pulled out of the parking lot. He could barely hold his hands steady.

He pulled up onto the I-5 highway, racing towards the Genentech headquarters. Now that he was more pissed than scared, he wanted to know what the hell that was all about. The lawyer revved the engine, and the speedometer was raising.

When he broke eighty miles per hour, trouble started. His brakes weren’t responding to his brake pedal, and the accelerator wouldn’t stop going faster.

Four miles later, he slammed into an eighteen wheeler at exactly 173 mph. Galen suffered from a double lung collapse and heart failure.

The police record showed no alcohol influence.

* * *

Jack opened the briefcase and surveyed the thick padding of five million dollars. On the interior casing of the briefcase, there was a message.

“Keep the change.”

* * *

Jason boarded the Boeing 747, tired and slightly pissed off. He hated being kept in the dark. Some kind of law-fight storm was brewing around him, and he wanted to know details. But, as usual, Grace kept him out of the light.

He plopped into the first-class seat, with Grace in the seat next to him, and took a glass of wine from the tray a tired stewardess was passing around.

Jason swirled the wine in his mouth. He couldn’t really tell if it was a good wine or a bad one, he wasn’t experienced enough with wines to tell. Grace, however, was an extremely acquainted person when it came to wines.

She said it tasted like crap.

The stewardess came by again, and took their glasses. An hour later, they were airborne, heading towards Sweden.

* * *

Chris stood at his 57th floor window, looking out at the suburbs of Santa Clara. This was not good. He had to stop the flight somehow, but his employed man wasn’t capable of doing so. He would just have to track them down in Sweden.

It seemed that a running-gun tactic wouldn’t work. He’d use a different approach to this slippery geneticist.

* * *

When Jason arrived in Sweden, the first thing he noticed was the blast of cold air in his face as he left the airport. He had to call Hikari, there wasn’t any notice before he left. He had less than three hours of notice.

Jason decided that he would call her at his hotel. Grace said that they were going to be checking in the Four Seasons for just one night before they got aquainted with the laboratory where Jason would be working.

When he got there, the phone line was disconnected, the concierge said something about “boken pho line.” He went straight to sleep, discontented and disappointed.

* * *

The next day, Grace woke him up by repeatedly hitting him on the head with the Bible that the hotel had provided in a back drawer. With no time for breakfast, they rushed out and went to the laboratory.

“Sory, eet’s eempossible to leet you een dees facileety,” said a burly, mustached security guard.

“But we were here on request!” argued Grace angrily.

The guard parroted what he had said before.

“Barrat! Stop this nonsense, I told you that we would have guests at this time yesterday!” yelled an angry woman. “I’m sorry about this fuss, my dear guests. Please, please come inside the laboratory. My name is Anna Chong, and you must be…”

“Jason Oh,” he shook her hand.

“Grace Tang, nice to meet you!” said Grace cheerfully.

“Please, please come inside,” she said, leading them into a laboratory.

Jason gasped at his working quarters. They were much better equipped than the crappy laboratories they had back in the USA. He then remembered that Sweden was a haven for persecuted scientists. Who knows, Lois Pastuer himself may have worked in this same laboratory a hundred years ago!

“We imported your virus samples and we have a supply of test animals, ranging from mice to flies, and if you have the correct authorization, I can let you tweak with chimpanzees,” said Anna cheerfully.

“Wow… thanks, thanks a lot!” said Jason. He looked behind him. Grace was nowhere to be seen, she probably disappeared somewhere.

* * *

“What the hell? How did they figure out our financial records?” Grace yelled, distressed.

“I really have no idea, but they did, and now we are in really deep ****. We need someway to shut them up,” said the Chairman.

“Argh… we will see what we can do here in Sweden, we may or may not be able to gain funding from this facility. When does Jason have to finish the virus by? Next year?”

“Hah! I wish. He needs to finish in four months, or else this company goes down the drain! I gotta go. I’ll see you later. Oh, keep a close eye on Jason, will ya? He’s sort of a loose cannon, a maverick-y sort of guy. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Bye.” The phone clicked.

* * *

It had been two days, and Jason still hadn’t been able to drop a line on Hikari. He worked from the wee morning to late at night, and was often so exhausted he simply dropped on his bed fully clothed, and fell asleep.

Hikari was worried about him. He hadn’t called, like he said he would. Dejected, she sat down on her futon. She just got back from her crappy job, and she still smelled like French fries. She decided earlier that she would start a new life, and she was going to start by getting a new job.

She wanted a managing job, which was what she was focusing on in classes before dropping out. She sent out her resumes via Monster.com, and scheduled an interview with Affymetrix for an interning position.

Hikari got off the phone, sensing a new beginning.

* * *

Jason couldn’t think. Four months? It was impossible. Louis Pasteur took at least three years to figure out the pasteurizing system that was still used today as an antimicrobial in beverages. Four months. Jason sighed. The complex also had “boken pho lines”, thanks to the lax maintenance system the apartment offered. Grace and Jason moved to their apartment in the heart of Sweden just yesterday, and it was nice. But the maintenance sucked.

He picked up his Swedish McDonalds and took a bite out of the hamburger. It still tasted like cardboard, even all the way in Sweden.

* * *

Jack rubbed his eyes, opened them, and glared straight at the bright Sweden sun. He took out a package of White Castle hamburgers he brought from America, and microwaved them.

He devoured them, and took his keys before leaving the dingy motel.

“Time to go to the daily grind,” he muttered.

* * *

Jason looked straight into the GenMAPP machine, and once again compared the results with the originals in the MAC. He sighed; another day, another failure.

Anna Chong moved behind him.

“Try the protein links tomorrow, that’s the only thing we haven’t tried. Take a break, you’ve worked hard,” she soothed. Jason just nodded approval and left.

He was on the brink of tears, it had been almost six weeks, and he hadn’t been able to call Hikari. He was work exhausted, and was about to collapse. His self-esteem levels weren’t doing so good either, Grace was nagging at him to get that damn virus up and running before the four month mark.

Jason fell on his bed, clothes still on.

* * *

Jack pulled out his high-powered Five-Seven and shoved it into the woman’s face. He looked with disgust at her cowering figure.

“So, you will do this job for me, right?” he questioned.

“I…I…I… I can’t do this. It’s impossible, they’ve done too much for me,” the woman said. Jack shot at the wall next to her head, the tile exploding. Little bits of shrapnel bit at the woman’s face, drawing a little bit of blood.

“LISTEN TO ME! I know who you are, who your parent’s are, who your children are, who your husband is. They will ALL die, if you do not agree with these… ahh… terms,” Jack yelled.

“No… not my children…” the woman pleaded.

“If they are not to be hurt, you will do this job,” Jack said. He left.

* * *

Jason drove his rental Camry into the parking lot of the laboratory at 10:57 PM. It had been two weeks since he discovered the virus that could work. All the tests showed the virus to genetically alter fruit flies, goldfish, rats, and even dogs successfully. Today was the final chapter in the gauntlet: the chimpanzee. He had to check if the chimp fetus he had selected for testing three days ago was now immune to influenza. Just yesterday he had sprayed the little thing with infected fluids. He couldn’t go to the lab earlier, the clearance levels of testing on chimpanzees required him to go past 10:30.

He moved inside, and saw Anna on the way. He gave her a word of greeting, and sprinted to the testing division.

Jason looked inside the warm bottle of fluids that housed the fetus. He checked the thing for any signs of outward change. None. Jason then looked at its breathing patterns and fluid intake and outflow. They were all normal. Now for the final test; eye discoloration. Influenza had the affect of slightly changing the eye’s color in chimpanzees a shade lighter. Jason pulled out on optical cable and inserted it into the chimpanzee’s environment. The eyes were fine.

Jason was jubilant. He printed out the virus genome twice over, and yelled with happiness. He put away the chimpanzee fetus, and ran to Grace’s office. She wasn’t there, so he scrawled “WORKING GENOME” on a Post-It note, slapped it on the twenty page printout, and put it reverently through her mail slot.

He then ran to Anna’s office. Jason shook the printouts jubilantly in the air, and gave it to her. She had tears in her eyes, she was that happy for Jason.

But in actuality, they weren’t tears of joy. That man had scared her too bad three nights ago. Anna rose her violently shaking arm, steadied it, and fired the USP the man had given her. The silencer on the gun spat out a lethal wad of metal that exploded at least three feet away from Jason’s left arm.

Wide-eyed with terror, Jason sprinted to the parking lot. Anna followed him, shooting at him with a bit more accuracy. The silencer spat out still more pieces of ammunition. Even if Jason did manage to get to the rental car, it didn’t matter, there was only one exit from the parking lot, the complex was under ground. Anna shot one more time, the silencer again coughing a chunk of titanium at Jason. It landed on Jason, but barely missed his vital organs. The bullet slammed into his left elbow, completely shattering it.

Flushed with adrenaline, Jason easily shrugged off the pain and rounded the corner. Anna gave a small smile, the nightmare would be over soon. A wounded lion does not go far. She ran past the corner.

Jason was waiting behind it. He had pulled out his Compact Smith & Wesson CS45 Pistol, and was concealing it behind his left leg. Anna rounded the corner, and saw Jason. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Sorry about this,” she said, pulling up her USP to bear.

“No,” Jason said. He started to cry. Anna faltered for a half second. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said in a shaky voice.

“What?” Anna said, lowering her gun. Jason nuzzled his head against his left shoulder, it was too much pain to wipe his tears on the sleeve with his shattered elbow. Suddenly, in one swift move, Jason brought his weapon up to bear, and shot Anna point-blank in the chest. Anna stared in shock at the small hole caused by the .45 cal bullet. Jason ran to his black Camry, and drove it out of the grey, grey parking lot with one hand.

* * *

Jack sighed, he knew the woman wouldn’t do that damn job correctly. He had anticipated that, and he had his silver Audi A5 parked outside of the laboratory. He saw a black Camry move out of the parking complex. Jack followed it. It was now late at night, and no one was on the streets. The Camry stopped at the stop sign.

Jack revved his engine, and accelerated. His Audi slammed into the rear bumper of the Camry, and practically disintegrated the trunk and some of the back seats. His own car didn’t take so much as a nick, his reinforced bumper and shock absorbent hood took away all potential damage. Jack counted to ten to slow his heartbeat, a trick taught by the Soviet soldiers a long time ago in Afghanistan, when he was working with them.

After he calmed his rising heartbeat, Jack coolly opened the car door. He took slow steps to the front of the Camry. Jack looked through the shattered window of the driver’s seat, and peered at Jason’s bloody face. Jack pressed his fingers against Jason’s neck. There was still a pulse.

Jack quietly pulled out his Five-Seven. It had been his favorite gun since it saved his life two years ago. He brought it to Jason’s head, and fired.

The big question is, what happens next? Jason, who seems to be (one of) the main characters gets his head blown off? Who's going to continue work on the retrovirus at Affymetrix? Or for that matter, what happens to Affymetrix now that their secret seemingly has been revealed, to Genentech at least? Would Jason and some people from Affymetrix, or maybe even Hikari, try to salvage what they could from Affymetrix and attempt to continue the work on their own?

I think there's potential there, perhaps try to plot it out as a whole in advance, and write in the details later. (Also, ZP 4tw, lol)

I dont think the closing necessitates Jason's death...it says the guy aimed his gun and fired...well may be some cop saw this and shot the assassin just as he fired so he missed (due to getting shot the moment he was aiming at Jason)...now Jason is badly injured but not dead and he can continue to be part of the story,