Well, I hadn’t initially planned it to be such, but I decided to turn my previous story into a trilogy of sorts. And yes, “bullier” is a real word, even though spellcheck doesn’t think so. Technically, it means the same thing as “bully”, but whatever.

Hopefully I’ll get the final part out soon. (Also, Pheromone Kindred is pretty awesome.)

And happy Hallowe’en! As some of you could probably guess from a lot of stuff I wrote, I’m pretty into the dark and creepy, the gothic and terrifying. So it’s a pretty good day for me, I suppose.


My name is Pheromone Kindred. I am a guardian, of sorts. A guardian of the integrity of this world. It has changed too much; it has become filled with too many people, and too many of the wrong sort of people. People who corrupt all they touch – those who destroy nature and, instead, erect horrible manmade structures that mock the very downfall of nature. People who eradicate viruses in an attempt to improve living standards. People who lock up minuscule samples of those viruses away in an expression of their “strength”.
The world needs to be purged.
Everyone else sits idly by in their ideal “living standards”, knowing nothing of true life, and it seems as though I am the only one who knows what must be done. I am also the only person who will do was must be done.
All of these facts were harshly evident to me from my life. A city is not a place for such a one as I to grow up in, but that’s what happened. Perhaps it was for the best; had I not grown up in such a synthesized metropolitan environment, I would not have realized the true horror of our human plague. Had I lived in one of the few “country”-like areas remaining in our world, I would not have understood, or perhaps wouldn’t have even been able to.
But such were the circumstances of my life, and they made me who I am – the future savior of our world. I will be scorned, persecuted, perhaps killed for my actions, but has it ever been different for any past saviors? Such is the way of things; mankind kills those who it needs most.
I kept all these thoughts and beliefs to myself, which was incredibly fortunate for me. Apparently, a man living in the apartment across the hall from my own was a “guardian”.
I had never heard of such a thing, nor had anyone besides three other living people. The “guardians” watched over a facility in some desolate area that housed samples of every virus yet recognized, most of which were eliminated worldwide.
The man, named Flint Truekind, was on his deathbed and summoned me to come. I hadn’t really ever met him, just spoken to him occasionally when we ran into each other in the hall or somesuch. But apparently, he had kept an eye on me, judging my actions and personality. This unnerved me to some degree, but, again, it was for the best – truly, it was necessary.
He had decided upon me to be his successor. We spoke in absolute secrecy, making sure that no one was around to hear a word that was spoken. He told me the details of where the facility was, how to access it, precautions to be taken, and what work would be necessary for me to undertake, as well as giving me one key that would give me access to the facility and to the other keys that I would require once within. He had been one of the “backup” guardians, only needing to enter the facility if the main guardian was taking one of their occasionally allotted vacations, or if any type of emergency came up. I would take Flint’s place, and therefore wouldn’t need to take much time with it. If I was needed, I would receive an anonymous notification with a specific set of numbers and letters.
I saw my opportunity. I did not believe in a god or any such almighty authority, but at that moment, I could’ve. The pure coincidence… If I had believed, I would have known, at that moment, it was what God wished for me to do, and he was guiding me on my way.
Flint Truekind died that night. I do not know if he knew that he would die so soon, and decided to tell me right before, or if it just “worked out”, like everything else. In some small way, I was glad he had died; he would not have to face the horror that the world was going to see shortly. It was merciful.
I knew where the facility was, and I had the capability to send a letter to whoever was inside.
But just sending some random letter to some unknown person wouldn’t be enough. That wouldn’t necessarily help me; I needed to think it through.
So I did. I composed a series of three letters that would be spaced out over a few days which would hopefully fulfill my needs. I took a sort of derivation of the “door in face” tactic, which I figured would aid my desires best. The only problem was that whoever was in there would have no way to return a letter to me, and therefore, I would be left in the dark until it was all said and done.
But I knew that he had been isolated in that facility for a decade, and a long expanse of time spent alone could be detrimental to most people. He would be fragile, yes, and implanting a small seed of doubt in his mind would wreck havoc.
I plotted my course carefully until I was sure all was set – and I sent the first letter. I could only imagine what was happening in the facility, and in his mind. First complete denial, then the seed of doubt would begin to grow. He would check on the vial of black death, see that it was intact, and resort to denial again.
But, of course, the vial would be partially empty, even just a tiny fraction. This fraction of empty vial-space would center itself in his mind. There would be flashes of denial, again, but only flashes at this point. He would view the possibility as fairly plausible. And then the second letter would come.
The second letter would shake his beliefs in the security of the facility to the core. He would be doubtful, then unsure, then convinced that I had managed a way in.
It would’ve been simpler, of course, to merely go into the facility and take whatever I wanted, but there was an additional security measure in the facility that allowed only one guardian to be within at a time. If one left, another would come, but only after the first had gone. Therefore I would need to break him down in order to get what I needed.
The third letter would offer him redemption, for a small trade. “Returning” the more vicious virus in trade for a more humane one.
But ah, the folly of the human race to eradicate diseases and viruses. Having no trials to come through, the immune system remained that of an infant – utterly susceptible to whatever may come. In the absence of viruses, vaccines were viewed as unnecessary as well. The human race was at its all-time weakest, and I knew that it was now that I must purge this “civilized” world.
I waited a day, having only my imagined and planned timeline to know at what state the guardian in the facility was at right now. It was possible that he wasn’t as susceptible to my “mind games”, that his mind was not fertile soil for my seed of doubt.
But I doubted it. Even the most self-assured man would become ruined in extended solitude. It was possible – but I must not dwell on that possibility. No harm would come to me if he didn’t go with it. I would arrive at the facility at the time specified, and if he wasn’t there, then I would know that I had failed, and wait again for another chance; perhaps when he takes a vacation. My only consequence would be a longer period of purgatory on this man-made hell, a desecration of the once-pure land.
I would restart it all anew. Man would still exist, but in considerably lower numbers than he once had. Untended, factories would become decrepit and fall apart in time. Nature would take back some of what once was its own, and man would have to use their smaller portion of it.
Perhaps it was cruel. To an outsider, the thought of slaughtering billions would be considered a sin never before reached in human history. But it was not out of spite, hatred, or prejudice. It was required for the better good.
I knew my actions had been written of before in fiction and other things. It was seen as something only done by a maniac, someone expelled from regular human life. But this was not me, no. I was completely sane and reasonable. I had had friends, though none at the current time. I had been engaged to a man named Enoch Adams, though unfortunately that fell apart. No, I had had a “regular life”, and was not doing this in a fit of maniacal fervor but in a cool-headed knowledge that I was the only person who could do it. I must do it for the well-being of the world as well as mankind. Humans had grown to sure of themselves and their power, and their squabbles threatened more than they knew. I must halt them before they destroy more than they mean.
The next day I sent the second letter. According to my plan, it would completely break him down. Any composure that he had regained since the previous day would vanish.
At the end of that day, I prepared my vial of “virus”. Flint had known enough about the facility to know what type of vial the viruses were stored in, and I mimicked them as best I could. After some deal of research, I knew what color to dye the liquid, which was a simple syrup of sugar and water. One thing I did not know was what he would do with the vial once I gave it to him, but at that point it would no longer matter. Ironically, he was probably one of the few people who would survive the outbreak, given how secure the facility was. If he somehow continued getting food, that was.
The next morning, I sent the final letter. I hoped that he was still sane enough to read and understand it, and that he would manage to get it before three o’clock. Immediately after sending it, I headed out. I had measured the amount of time it would take me to get to the facility and worked that into the plan, and it was pretty close. Even given the bullet-trains that led from close to where I was to nearby the facility, it would take most of the time from then until three o’clock.
I boarded the train with a bag filled with baggy black clothing that I would dress in shortly before arriving. I had doubts as to whether he’d report me, or even be able to, but I wished to take no risks in it.
I suppose that was yet another thing that set me apart from both enactors of genocide and those mostly-fictional maniacs who took a similar path to mine; they wished to have the world know it was them who did it, they wished to be famous, even if infamous, for their actions. I wished no such thing. I did not even expect to survive the outbreak myself, and would just as well have it happen with no known perpetrator. I desired no fame for what I did. My actions would be misunderstood by everyone, and only in hindsight would they understand and accept what I did as necessary.
Once I left the train, I located an underground passage that Flint had told me about. There was a sort of side-elevator that went through it, and I entered it and began my journey. While riding it, I donned my outfit, wrapping my head in the black fabric and being sure to tuck my red hair out of sight. I wanted to avoid anything that would give away my appearance.
I left the elevator when it halted, climbed up the stairs before me, and emerged into a desert that extended the lengths of my vision, the only structure being a large building in front of me. I was surprised how quickly the elevator had gone, to bring me so far out in such a short amount of time. I checked my clock, and it read two fourty-five.
I walked to the entrance of the facility and waited.
At precisely three o’clock, a man emerged, carrying a metal canister.
I spoke with him for a short while, then we made the trade. For some reason, I was compelled to explain a small portion of my plan. Even if he misunderstood, which I was sure would happen, perhaps at some later time he would come to understand my reasons.
I left and began walking back towards the passageway, and he returned to the facility. I was blind to his actions once more, but was glad to see that I had quite accurately predicted his actions beforehand.
I returned to my apartment, the canister in my bag, then went to bed. Tomorrow would be interesting.
The next day, I began the spreading of the virus. I sampled a small amount of it and spread it in a well-populated restaurant. I took a bullet-train to another large city, and took the same action.
I had purchased a plane ticket from that city in advance, and began the long trip to a densely populated city in a densely populated country, and began spreading the virus over there. By that time, I began feeling the effects of the infection, but carried on through it. I hopped from city to city, country to country, until the vial was empty. I returned to my apartment and laid on my bed. At this point, I was barely functional, and fell into a deep sleep.
I awoke once, stumbled out of bed and took a drink of water, then returned to my death-bed. My final dream was a vision of the world after the virus had run its course and humanity had grown back its resilience to the virus. A fresh start for the world; it had been purged. I smiled in my sleep.


One thought on “Bullier

  1. […] with NaNoWriMo and shoot for the full 50,000 words (especially since I was working on finishing the Bully trilogy for the beginning of this month), but I will be working on a short-ish story that […]

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