>Beep
>You lean over the keyboard, the bold text flashing on the screen in front of you
>INCOMPATIBLE MATCH
>the DNA sequencer whirs to a stop next to the computer
>you take your glasses off and pinch the bridge of your nose
>it's been a month already and still you have not found a solution to the recent outbreak in Baltimare
>the refugee building near the docks has been cordoned off by the Royal Guard
>20 confirmed cases, with 10 kept under observation in the same area
>house arrest in a place isn't your own home
>you have been tasked to find a possible vaccine against the Ebola outbreak before it spreads through Baltimare, or worse Equestria
>It's all on you
>well, that's what you keep telling yourself to get through the long hours spent testing samples
>but it's been getting to you
>Patient Zero isn't making life easier for you either
>though so far, she's been very co-operative with allowing you to take blood samples from her
>and her condition....it's remarkable
>her body has shown almost no physical symptoms of the virus
>and she's been kept under observation for more that 3 weeks already, with estimated exposure to the virus reaching further back than a month at least
>you remember the first time you inspected her
>the clingy yellow latex gloves wrapped around your hands
>the crinkly white jumpsuit, forming a cocoon around your body
>the feeling of shortened breath as you felt enclosed in your breathing mask
>the slight beads of moisture forming on your goggles when you first laid eyes on the mare
>she was a mare as white as snow, with a button up nurse's top
>her pink mane draping her face on one side as it shone under the florescent light
>she was sporting a cream flower, beneath her pointed ears, pinned precariously in place
>she was sitting on the examination table, idly swinging her hooves as you gazed at her from afar
>when you moved closer, she looked up and met your eyes with hers
>Her irises shone like citrine
>cut across with blackened cat-eye slits that formed her pupil
>you felt calm, yet still unease by her stare
>like waking up from falling asleep behind the wheel of an automobile, you regained your composure and pressed on with the examination procedure
>In a professional voice you addressed her
"Hello miss. I'm from the Equestrian Center of Disease Control. You may be wondering why we are keeping you here in special isolation, but with your cooperation, we will be able to let you leave at the earliest possible time."
>She simply stared at you further
>you retrieve a syringe from the plastic case you were carrying, retrieving a few small vials, with different colored caps
"If you don't mind, we would like to run a few tests..."
>examining the vials and syringe to be satisfactory you stand up facing her, the syringe needle gleaming in the light
"A blood sample test to be more precise. Now, if you please..."
>immediately she extended her foreleg, cocking her head slightly to the side, her eyes unblinking
>cautiously you take a small alcoholic swab and rub it across a visible artery on her cannon
>her fur felt...soft, even through your latex gloves...
>you had the notion of simply removing them, and stoking it again to the bare touch...
>but it faded as you jabbed the needle gently into the artery
>you noticed she didn't flinch, even the slightest
>pulling back the plunger, the tube fills with viscous crimson fluid
>you wipe the area clean, yet oddly enough, there isn't a drop of blood leaking out
>depositing the samples in the vials, you thank her under your voice, before making your way to the door
>it slides open with a metallic swoosh, before closing shut again with a pressurized hiss
>you turn around and look at her through the thick reinforced window
>her eyes follow around the room, eyeing it casually, before she looked at you through the mirror
>you look away quickly, shaking off that cold chill that ran down your spine before you went ahead to the working station
>you swivel and get up from your chair, walking over to another desk with a pile of papers and files stacked haphazardly on top of each other
>picking a grey plastic file from the top, you thumb through the numerous pages
>graphs, charts, bio-analytical information mapping the virus in it's entirety
>initially magic was attempted to cure the victims
>however, it proved to only accelerate the disease, compressing the time-frame before symptoms were shown from 21 days to 7 days
>this was deemed too risky to proceed with further magical trails, so the task was handed to you
>the foremost specialist in virology
>on other fronts there have been rumored to be advances in alchemy to treat the disease, but results have been... inconsistent
>from your research so far, you have identified a protein chain, which altered, may lead to slow or halt the replication of the virus within the host
>unfortunately, constructing a protein which would attach to the chain has proven unsuccessful
>this has lead you to become so infatuated with Patient Zero
>for within her lies the key to formulate the matching protein
>this has required several diagnostic examinations again in order to retrieve fresh blood samples
>her actions each time were similar
>stare, extension of foreleg upon request, then resume stare until you have vacated the room
>yet, each time you visited her, you feel altered somehow, compared to the prior sample retrievals
>like how one would at first feel estranged and taken-aback by visiting a graveyard
>but become adapted to it....pushing it to the back of the mind, where it still lingers
>dormant, and unbeknownst to your mind and body
>you toss the file back onto the desk, sighing in defeat
>you make your way to a shelf on the wall
>square in the center stood a record player, with some sleeved records perched against it
>flipping through them, you slip the onyx vinyl out and place it on the record
>you turn the stubborn nob, letting the needle gently come down upon the spinning platform
>a scratch, then the familiar echoes of a haunting piano resonate through the megaphone
>Moonlight Sonata, a favorite of yours during the quiet nights at the laboratory
>you waltz over to the observation window, your hands nestled in your lab-coat pockets
>in the small, brightly lit room, she was in the center, sitting on the tiled floor
>her pink mane and white coat kept bizarrely immaculate, given the circumstances
>even her flower remained pristine, as if freshly picked
>her eyes met yours, piercing and discriminatory
>yet her face did not hint at that
>not until she stood and walked closer to the glass
>her hooves glided along the floor, her hips accentuated with each step
>mere inches from the glass, she did something she has never done before
>she smiled
>or was it a grin? you could not tell
>peculiar as well was her pearly white teeth
>yet, where her second set of incisors would be...instead gleamed a set of long canines
>fangs actually
>she then bit her lip and a trickle of blood flowed down her chin
>a crimson stream on her pure white fur
>mesmerized, you see her raise her hoof slowly, catching the blood on her hoof
>upon the pane of glass, she placed her hoof
>with the grace of a painter, she ran the smear across it
>twirls and curves, bends and streaks
>withdrawing her hoof, you look at the artpiece before you
>a heart, with the two ends punctuated by swirls
>figure of eights, unfinished and upside down
>she then pressed her muzzle against the glass
>her breath fogging up some of the window
>in a slow gesture, she licked the surface
>her broad tongue running upward ever so sultry
>you reach out, touching the pane of glass where her mouth is
>your fingers touching the cool glass
>her oral embrace mere centimeters away
"It's been so long...."
>you mutter to yourself, as your mind hazily fills with the thoughts of your last lustful embrace
>for too long has your infatuation with her gone unfulfilled
>your desire for her shall be quenched tonight
>in tune with the rhythm of the piano, you step closer to the door
>instinctively you reach into your coat for the key-card
>placing it against the scanner, you hear the electronic chime
>the green light on the scanner shines brightly in the darkened room
>the door swooshes open again, flooding the room with the bright florescent light
>you step inside the room
>you fall to your knees, arms outstretched
>she walks closer to you, before wrapping you in her embrace
>you smile blissfully, as if graced by the presence of an angel from heaven
>usually your cautionary paranoia was contained within your bio-hazard suit
>yet now, finally you get to feel her touch upon your bare skin
>her wings unfold, casting a long shadow behind you
>though your haze of thoughts you smell a distinct odor
>an air of miasma lingers in her mane
>it brushes across your neck as she nuzzles your shoulder
>she grins again, opening her maw as her fangs gently scrape across your skin
 
>past her cast shadow
>through the open door
>the record keeps on spinning in silence
>in the darkness the monitor comes alive
>BEEP
>in bold green text, a message flashes across the screen
>PERFECT MATCH
 
-end-