Western Bangalla, South America
"Sir, the test subjects are set in place."
A tired, half-hearted sigh escaped from Alpha. Spinning on his heels to turn, he stared from behind his sunglasses at his subordinates, intense red eyes looking at them through the shaded lenses. A run down, decrepit warehouse is where they stood, near the heart of the small town, within the small country of Bangalla.
It was miniscule in size really. While not the smallest country in the world, it was might as well have been, as it was eclipsed by its neighboring counties Venezuela and Columbia, trapped within the confines of South America. To most of the world it was unknown. Not because it was hidden. It was on every globe, map, etc. No, it was because it was so insignificant to the populace, unnoticeable. It wasn't on the news, anything that happened within the confines of its borders were never publicized. To some, this was a good thing. Isolation from the world, unbothered by its problems. Sure, conflicts with neighbors were here and there, but overall Bangalla was a peaceful land, free from burdens.
And that was exactly why Alpha saw it as the perfect target.
"Good. Are the other forms ready if need be? Inhalants, and ready to be added to the water supply?" Alpha's tone made it clear to the young henchmen that this was a serious matter. For over a decade Alpha had been perfecting this infection. Now it was time to see how far they had truly come. There were to be no mistakes. "Ye...yes director." With a sigh of relief, the man saw a grin displayed across Alpha's face, signaling his satisfaction. "Good." The last thing the underling's brain perceived were those words. Alpha lifted a golden pistol to his face, shooting him with little care, if any at all. "You can be their first meal."
"So do you just enjoy killing your subordinates, or do you have actual reason for killing them so often?" A brash, accusatory tone emanated from behind Alpha. Turning around to look at the figure, he saw that Delta stood behind him, her hand on the pommel of her sword as always.
"A little bit of both perhaps. He was both annoying, and I wanted to see the results for myself before I make my leave of this retched country." With the subtle movement of his hand, he holstered his golden pistol beneath his black trench coat.
"Look Al, I know WHY you chose this place. But if you had wanted to see this on a large scale, shouldn't you have, I don't know, gone to a larger country?"
Alpha's coy smile returned to his face, his posture turning from serious to a more relax and mundane form. "This is an isolated country. The risk of someone stopping the spread of the infection is low. Response to the incident will either be small or will take quite long...and besides, this place means something to my brother. It'll draw him out." With sweeping motion followed suit as Alpha began to take his leave, wishing to watch the incident from a safe distance. "Go, prepare the troops. Time to see what these creatures are made of."
With one last glance at the mad man, Delta removed the glasses form her face, her hand releasing its grasp on her sword. "Your the boss."
In the town square, amidst the bustling noise that came from it, there sat a man. Upon the bench he sat, his sombrero tilted down and his poncho draped on his soldiers, a Spanish guitar within his hands. With an elegance and precision that even the most skilled of musicians would be envious of, he played. Weaving the beautiful song into a tapestry of living art, he continued to keep his head low, a solemn expression masking his face.
Finally, the end of the song was reached, with the last note ringing in the air with haunting beauty, captivating those who heard it. A man walked up to the guitar player, glancing in both directions before sitting next to him.
"Hello Eric, its been awhile." A ragged, raspy voice came from the mariachi man, referring to the informant he had called. "Well, I came as quickly as I could...but I have to ask, what is with the get up?We're in South America, not Mexico. You aren't blending in very well."
A quizzical look draped over Omega, who seemed to only now realize his disguise. "Oh great now you tell me. Do you realize how much money a sombrero, a poncho, and aSpanish guitar cost? Agh, now I look like a Mariachi Ninja." Omega exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "Anyways, did you get what I asked for?"
"The info? Yes of course. From what I've gathered, Al is definitely in Bangalla." A hard crack was heard, Omega's grip on the guitar instantly crushing it as he heard his brothers name. "And?" Omega let his words hang, waiting with very little patience for wat Eric was going to say next. "Well, whatever it is, and from what you've given to me...it looks big? Maybe some backup could help." A loud cry rang throughout the village, halting the conversation to a standstill. Quickly rising, Omega's hand raced to the hilt of his blade, watching intently for any sign of oncoming danger.
A man ran from a nearby alley, tackling a civilian in blind fury. Within the blink of an eye, Omega closed the distance. Raising his foot, he decided he didn't require to actually take out his sword. With a powerful kick, he separated the man's head from his shoulders, the skull rolling across the ground with a red trail leading behind.
'What, is that it?' Omega though to himself, feeling as though this was too easy to possibly be over. Looking down at the now headless body of his victim, he noticed that it was...decaying? Suddenly, more cries of agony erupted throughout the town, and the sound of running made Omega look back.
Within his eyesight, he saw what looked like an army of the dying, several grey, decrepit humanoids charging at him. "Oh...well then." Omega looked back, seeing that Eric had followed behind him. "Eric, quick, send out a message, something, ANYTHING!"
Returning his gaze at the oncoming hoard of the dead, Omega grabbed his sword once more. his red blade, Indignation cackling with energy. "Alright, let's slay some stiffs."