was also the resting place of Pandora’s Haemorrhagic Box.
May 25, 2012: the National Institute of Health shocks South Africa and the world by announcing the finalisation of a full cure to HIV.
May 26, 2012: the National Institute of Health shocks the world again, this time by getting ransacked by a desperate population.
May 29, 2012: the initial raiders start developing fever symptoms.
June 1, 2012: four hundred bloody deaths herald the coming of worldwide anarchy.
The Red Masque Fever—named due to its virulence—lived up to its moniker. Created under laboratory conditions by extrapolating the evolution of other common haemorrhagics, Red Masque made Lassa fever, Ebola and the Marburg virus look like a bad case of the sniffles. The National Institute of Health had samples kept under the strictest of procedures, but wild mobs are never the best at following protocol.
There ain’t no fever like a haemorrhagic fever.
For three days, Red Masque lurked in the bodies of the desperate looters, unseen but still contagious. On the third day it rose again, in accordance to its epidemiology, and began to systematically ravage their internal organs, manifesting in feverish temperatures, vomiting, intercranial pressure, haemorrhaging, cell necrosis and convulsions. By the end of the fifth day, every single initial infectee was dead.
The world had watched their bloody seizures in terrified silence. Some countries reacted quicker than others, immediately shutting down all airports and denying flights from Africa. For most, it was far too late. All it took was a single returning tourist to cough in a crowded airport, and within days the city would be wiped off the map. Naturally, South Africa was hit the hardest, with a death toll in the millions. The rest of Africa suffered sequentially, with border controls unable to stop infected refugees.
It was in late 2012 that new complications started arising. Through their quarantines and their military and their cutting-edge protective gear, Red Masque Fever was all but eradicated in developed countries. Naturally, there were mistakes: misdiagnoses triggered false alarms over the world, and with those false alarms came panic and fear. Eventually, all it would take was the sight of a pressure-protective suit in a neighbourhood to trigger all-out chaos. And thus the gutterages came into being—monuments to panic without due cause, and chaos for the simple sake of chaos.
More complications swarmed in from Africa. Without advanced technology and equipment, Red Masque continued to scourge across the continent, and with outbound planes getting shot down by UN-endorsed fighter jets the ways out were severely limited.
With the death toll in the thousands of millions, a massive exodus of uninfected citizens had sprung up. Initially, they had formed huge groups for safety, but the larger groups never made it for more than a few weeks before statistics alone beat them. It was always safer to travel in smaller packs, avoiding marauders and cities in an attempt to get farther north. For them, north meant hope; it meant first world countries with their friendly doctors and their friendlier vaccines.
Of course, there were no vaccines or cures, only containment and quarantine. Africa had depended on first world emergency aid for far too long, but instead of finding Europe with arms open, they found the Mediterranean as dangerous as Africa. Any boat attempting to cross was boarded by special forces in containment suits. If the tiniest trace of infection was found, the boats were sent straight to the bottom. It didn’t have to be any more than a sneeze or a minor temperature.
The Middle East wasn’t any more accommodating. As refugees reached Egypt, a pre-emptive exodus struck up tensions on the Israeli border, resulting in civilian casualties on both sides. Israel’s response was almost unprecedented; their superior military annexed the part of Egypt on their side of the Suez Canal in less than
May 25, 2012: the National Institute of Health shocks South Africa and the world by announcing the finalisation of a full cure to HIV.
May 26, 2012: the National Institute of Health shocks the world again, this time by getting ransacked by a desperate population.
May 29, 2012: the initial raiders start developing fever symptoms.
June 1, 2012: four hundred bloody deaths herald the coming of worldwide anarchy.
The Red Masque Fever—named due to its virulence—lived up to its moniker. Created under laboratory conditions by extrapolating the evolution of other common haemorrhagics, Red Masque made Lassa fever, Ebola and the Marburg virus look like a bad case of the sniffles. The National Institute of Health had samples kept under the strictest of procedures, but wild mobs are never the best at following protocol.
There ain’t no fever like a haemorrhagic fever.
For three days, Red Masque lurked in the bodies of the desperate looters, unseen but still contagious. On the third day it rose again, in accordance to its epidemiology, and began to systematically ravage their internal organs, manifesting in feverish temperatures, vomiting, intercranial pressure, haemorrhaging, cell necrosis and convulsions. By the end of the fifth day, every single initial infectee was dead.
The world had watched their bloody seizures in terrified silence. Some countries reacted quicker than others, immediately shutting down all airports and denying flights from Africa. For most, it was far too late. All it took was a single returning tourist to cough in a crowded airport, and within days the city would be wiped off the map. Naturally, South Africa was hit the hardest, with a death toll in the millions. The rest of Africa suffered sequentially, with border controls unable to stop infected refugees.
It was in late 2012 that new complications started arising. Through their quarantines and their military and their cutting-edge protective gear, Red Masque Fever was all but eradicated in developed countries. Naturally, there were mistakes: misdiagnoses triggered false alarms over the world, and with those false alarms came panic and fear. Eventually, all it would take was the sight of a pressure-protective suit in a neighbourhood to trigger all-out chaos. And thus the gutterages came into being—monuments to panic without due cause, and chaos for the simple sake of chaos.
More complications swarmed in from Africa. Without advanced technology and equipment, Red Masque continued to scourge across the continent, and with outbound planes getting shot down by UN-endorsed fighter jets the ways out were severely limited.
With the death toll in the thousands of millions, a massive exodus of uninfected citizens had sprung up. Initially, they had formed huge groups for safety, but the larger groups never made it for more than a few weeks before statistics alone beat them. It was always safer to travel in smaller packs, avoiding marauders and cities in an attempt to get farther north. For them, north meant hope; it meant first world countries with their friendly doctors and their friendlier vaccines.
Of course, there were no vaccines or cures, only containment and quarantine. Africa had depended on first world emergency aid for far too long, but instead of finding Europe with arms open, they found the Mediterranean as dangerous as Africa. Any boat attempting to cross was boarded by special forces in containment suits. If the tiniest trace of infection was found, the boats were sent straight to the bottom. It didn’t have to be any more than a sneeze or a minor temperature.
The Middle East wasn’t any more accommodating. As refugees reached Egypt, a pre-emptive exodus struck up tensions on the Israeli border, resulting in civilian casualties on both sides. Israel’s response was almost unprecedented; their superior military annexed the part of Egypt on their side of the Suez Canal in less than
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