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[ A tattered journal may be found under a debris and dust covered desk in the central Nyheim hospital complex
If you were to open it, the first half of its pages would be apparently ripped out; methodically though. Intentional. The journal would be unmarked on its black leather cover. No name or signature to be seen. Whoever the writer was, for whatever reason, never labeled it in such a way that they could be identified, unless you knew any of the affiliates mentioned inside.
Only the following entry could be found within.] 

I had no idea that the beginning of my career would also be the end of it. 

It was an assignment. 

When I was offered a position on a team in a far flung corner of Norway, I thought it would be rather routine. Just another step in the internship. I was recommended by a respected Immunologist and Research Director, Dr. Theodore Collins, who I met during my first internship in 2018. He is a solemn man, but he carries himself with dignity, and he works well on teams. The warmth he exudes always made for an excellent atmosphere, even as a young intern, I never felt as though he left me behind on the project. His hair is silvery and peppered, longer on top, and slicked back on the sides regularly. He speaks highly of his wife, and is the proud father of 3, who he claims are all around my age. His recommendation came as a surprise, I was not yet finished with school, but the opportunity to work on a new virus was too difficult to pass up, especially working with such a  respected Director.

I was the least experienced on the Nyehim team, at least in field work, so I just followed the lead of those more experienced than I; which is typically what an intern is expected to do. But it wasn't until we departed that our assignment in Nyheim was truly made clear to us, and it seems the actual subject matter was just as much as surprise to my superiors as it was to me. 

When they told us, we were already mid flight. The plane echoed hollowly as we hit turbulence, with most of its seats sitting empty, those of us on board spaced out evenly throughout, wearing masks and full coverage clothing as a flight precaution. Our coordinator broke the news to us just an hour or so into the flight. Some of the researchers had already begun to nod off when the plane was alit with those assaulting fluorescents. There was concern, at first, as we all glanced at each other, wondering if something was wrong with the plane. But the coordinator quietly soothed our worries, and we all took a collective breath before he began his presentation.

I hardly remember him now. Redmond? Raymon? His name escapes me. But I remember his light, short, ginger hair. The way his bangs sharply turned up along his hairline, a boyish haircut; a boyish man, really. Meek, and soft spoken, usually. He was visibly nervous. He informed us that, while our work in Nyheim was, indeed, related to the recent viral outbreaks in the area; the reason our team was assembled and swept out of London so quickly and quietly, was that we were more specifically tasked with investigating the environmental and biological impact of the use of a supposed vaccine. 

The plane erupted with questions; this rumored vaccine was, at the time, quite the controversy, and some considered it nothing more than a conspiratorial rumor. But the coordinator's divulgement of this information, especially in such secret, isolated conditions, indicated that there was more to this 'rumor' than any of us had thought. I turned to glance behind me, to Dr. Collins, who sat upright in the back of the plane, his face stern. I can't say for certain, but, to me it seemed that he had known about this when he assembled the team.

I didn't know it then, but we should have stopped the plane then and there and demanded to be returned. 

Once we were settled into our labs, we coordinated with the local organization; Plikt, in  an effort to maintain low infection rates. But it swiftly became apparent that we had arrived far too late, and that the local authorities were beginning to lose control of the situation. It wasn't long before we were relocated to a subset of the city, within the walls. To most of our dismay, we were confined to our labs and our rooms and given nothing more than samples collected by Plikt. It dawned on us that this was no longer a cooperative arrangement. Plikt and local authorities seemed to focus more on enforcement of their curfews and social distancing laws than actual research, at least, that's what it looked like from behind our barred windows. 

Months went by, and we felt as though we had become prisoners. Our communication with the coordinator went strictly through the local authorities, and after a while, it seemed they weren't interested in helping us maintain our communication. We lost touch. Some of the others speculated that Plikt may know the real reason we were there, but who can say? From my view, it could have easily just as well been that they were trying to maintain control on their community, and, we were there at an inconvenient time. 

At last, there was calm again in Nyheim. For the first time since October, we were released. If I had been correct keeping track, this would have been just before christmas. Plikt had seemingly taken complete authoritative control of the city, at least within the walls, so our movements were still limited; but, the gates were open, and refugees flocked into the city. Again, we were able to conduct research and provided samples by Plikt. 

It was apparent at this point that there was a new strain of AVM-FLA-21NS present in Nyheim's citizens. We were suspicious that the "mist" vaccine could have somehow triggered a mutation, but little discussion could be had regarding this, and nearly nothing could be recorded, as we were being consistently supervised, and our technical aids insisted we were likely recording our findings on an unsecured network. Nothing could be saved. What little we could find out, we had to simply memorize...

One particular sample brought in contained the presence of an obvious pollutant, and what appeared to be a live instance of viral mutation; Dr. Collins took me aside, quietly and frantically describing his findings to me, lamenting that if he does not tell anyone then know one would know. He seemed anxious, moreso than usual, and his face was twisted and flustered. I was elated at the discovery, at least it would mean we had a breakthrough in our intended research, but quickly, I too became morose, realizing that while we had made such a discovery, the information was useless if it could not be recorded, let alone shared, under the eye of Plikt, or whatever powers that be were responsible for this 'mist'. 

Collins stopped short as he saw the wave of emotions roll across my face, and his face fell. This sides of his mouth turned down in a grimace and his eyes grew narrow and stern, but glossy and fearful at the same time. 
It was then that I realized the reason for his anxiety. I glanced past him, toward the door, and noticed his suitcase. My eyes shot back into his. 

"You're taking it somewhere. You're leaving."
My voice shook.
He clasped my hands within his own; they were clammy, cold, his knuckles were white. He did not hurt me, but he grasped my hands tight. His eyes never left my face. He leaned in close and murmured,
"I am telling you so that if I do not make it out, someone knows. Even if it's not recorded here, someone knows."
He then signaled for me to be silent, holding a finger to his lips, as he reached with his other hand, into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it between our faces. 
"There are people saying the gates will close again soon. I have met someone who is going to help me get out." 

It wasn't long after that, that the rest of the team decided it was best for us to leave as well. Unrest in Nyheim was inevitable yet again, and were desperate not to get stuck inside.
Not to be subjected to this mysterious 'mist'. No. Our chances are far better out there, at this point.
We will leave within the week, but I am hesitant.

We haven't heard from Dr. Collins. Some people would say, 'no news is good news'.

I hope so.

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Elaine was bornin Oxford, England, to a middle class, unwed couple. Her parents gave birth to a brother to Elaine, whom they named Corbin, just 4 years after she was born, and she grew up very protective of him. Unfortunately, her mother passed when Elaine was only 8, in an unfortunate vehicle accident. Her father became inconsolable during his grief, and in his bereavement, Elaine and her brother moved in with their aunt, Catherine, their mother's sister.
Catherine had been a long time nurse, and due to her long working hours, Elaine and her brother were often left to their own devices. Elaine took this responsibility seriously, and she made the best of their situation in whatever way she could, keeping her brother and father in touch, learning to cook for her brother, and overseeing her brother's school work.
Elaine took school extremely seriously. She saw it as her responsibility to ensure that despite their hardship, she and her brother could make their Aunt's sacrifice worthwhile. Her goal was to be able to afford to help her aunt pay for retirement, and maybe even a small home in the countryside.
An opportunity arose at one point when their father had stabilized his life and was ready to take them back, but Elaine and Corbin were given a choice, and they chose to stay with Catherine. 
This was a tumultuous decision at first, and was met with disappointment from their father, but they remained in regular contact with him and spent time at his house on weekends when they could. Though, he did eventually remarry and have another child of his own. This was met with happiness from all in the family and ultimately healed any hurt or insult caused by the decision for Catherine to keep the children.
Elaine's interest in medical science peaked as early as junior high, as soon as she took Biology, she became fascinated by viruses, specifically fixated on pandemic viruses, such as Ebola and Marburg. Catherine encouraged this by occasionally bringing her along to the hospital to see some of the facilities, when allowed. 
But it wasn't until her brother had graduated secondary school that Elaine could even begin to work toward going to University.
As soon as he did, he got into a trade school, preparing to become a mechanic. Elaine knew that Corbin's schooling would not take as long, nor would it cost as much, so she agreed to continue working, mostly as a waitress, until he was finished. By the time she was 26, she would finally be able to begin schooling.
She was able to gain access to the esteemed Oxford University, with the help of some financial aid, as well as financial support of her father and aunt. The entire family looked on in pride as Elaine, at last, began to work toward building her own life.

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t r a i t s

Chatterbox
Humorful
Polite
Sensitive
Inquisitive
Naive

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h o b b i e s

Reading
Sketching
Gardening

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s k i l l s

Diction
Infectious Sanitation
Plant Identification
Illness Treatment

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f r i e n d s

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Dr. Collins
[ NPC ]
- Status Unknown - 
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r i v a l s

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None
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n o t e s
[ Scribbled into her journal, Elaine writes her thoughts and observations during her adventures ]
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