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before a nations mourning
comes blood as black as ink

The year: 2009. Two years after the Christmas Massacre, a small village in the deep of Russia is still completely decimated. Even scientists and detectives have abandoned the empty village, filled with the dark events of it's past. The church where mass had been held, where every villager had fallen to the Bloody X virus still stood, towering high above the small homes, but all was empty.

St. Voltaire's Cathedral.

It was the place where Victoria would visit on the anniversary of the Massacre, walking the empty streets with a forever-present frown. And somehow, she would always end back up in the cathedral. The moment she passed through the arched doors, stumbled her way along the pews that still held traces of blood she would remember. Just what it was to go through watching all her family and neighbors murdered from the inside out by a virus. And she the only one to survive unaffected.

Each time she visited this small, once-budding town, she felt anger seep into her bones, a heat rising as she felt a hatred against the unknown terrorists that had caused her to lose everyone that she loved. A hatred, also, against a government that had shut down their research to prevent yet another destruction. And also: Fear. Her visits only made her more fearful of another day when the Bloody X virus would take over again. It made her fear the pain that would come from it. She feared the inevitable death.

Walking through the bloodstained cathedral, in her mind's eye the bodies were still there, forever ingrained, she found herself torn. She knew just how to prevent such a disaster from happening again. The cure was in her veins, after all, but she had no one left that she was close to, no one to feel the need to save. Why should she help those that killed her family? And most of all, why should she save those who abandoned her need for justice?

Call it justice in her own right, an eye for an eye. But Victoria, better known as The Anti-Virus in theory, had no intention of helping either side. Let them try to find another cure. Let them fumble. But she would not save a world that did not matter to her anymore.

She was no one's Cure.