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[–] Grifter42 [S] ago 

You roll a seventeen. Father relaxes, and trusts you, as his most favored disciple.

"I've been worried about the so called "Congressman". If we allow him to live, it will ensure a slow and painful death to us all. It will eliminate all we've worked so hard for..." You prepare a "vitamin" injection for him. You plunge it into his arm, and his disposition changes.

"We can take them! WE'LL FIGHT! WE'LL FIGHT! WE'LL FIGHT TOOTH AND NAIL, TO PRESERVE WHAT'S OURS! I want a headcount on able-bodied fighters, and a count of available fire arms! I know you're the right man for the job."

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[–] Anoxim ago 

" yes, father I will go at once"

I leave to the infirmary. Rounding up every stimulant and disassociative I can find. A mix of these checmicals should help our soldiers fight harder. Gathering the needles causes a twinge of pain in my left arm. The memory, like the scars, remain. " One little shot couldn't hurt, I may die any day now." I drop all my supplies and search for the fentanyl. 100mcg should do the trick. I plunge the hypo into the rubber lid, draw the fentanyl into the syringe. Then there is a knock at the door.

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[–] Grifter42 [S] ago 

You roll a thirteen. You conceal the hypo and cap it before answering the door.

"Yes"?

"There's something going on. Some sort of sickness! My son, there's something wrong with his leg! It got bit up by some of dem jungle bugs, and... there's something moving inside it now."

The black mother brings her child in, who is no more than twelve. He smells of death, and his eyes are listless and nearly dead.

You look at his leg. There are strange worms, feeding inside it. Every now and then, the worms contract, and the leg jerks.

You look at the mother, and she has sores on her hands. The sores are moving.