"Neisseria meningitidis."


    "What the hell is that, a spell from Harry Potter?" Charles snapped, his voice already tinged with panic.


    Mr. Fleming adjusted his sses with that smug little twitch of his lips.


    "It''s a bacteria, Charles. A nasty little bastard that sets your brain and spine on fire. Meningitis. Blood infection. Seizures. Hallucinations. You name it–it''s a party in your skull."


    "Oh, delightful," Charles groaned, clutching his neck. "My brain feels like it''s being skewered by hot forks already."


    "ssic early symptoms: fever, neck stiffness, nausea, photophobia, altered mental state..." Fleming rattled it off like he was reading a damn shopping list, but there was a flicker of fear underneath his calm


    Alex sipped his tea, legs crossed like he was watching aedy show. "Wow. Bravo, Professor Pathogen. Remind me to nominate you for a Nobel Prize in stating the obvious"


    Fleming shot him a re, but Alex didn''t even flinch. "But it''s funny, isn''t it? So close, yet you still misdiagnosed your own death trap. Again."


    Charles grunted, "Will you both stop pissing at each other like dogs? I''m the one dying here!"


    He doubled over, grimacing. "Shit! It''s getting worse!"


    "I''m working on it," Fleming said, rushing to his littleb setup like a frazzled meth cook.


    "Work faster!" Charles screamed, sweat pouring down his face, his skin pale like milk left out in the sun. "It''s like a goddamn drill is burrowing into my skull!"


    Meanwhile, Alex... still calm. Still sipping tea. Not a single twitch of difort. "Wait-why aren''t you affected?" Charles snapped, blinking through the pain.


    "I ate the bacteria," Alex said tly, setting his teacup down.


    "Digested it. Neutralized it. Like a goddamn apex predator."


    "What?! You didn''t even do anything!"


    "I don''t need to do anything when I''m five steps ahead." He leaned forward with a slow, wicked smile.


    "Maybe focus on your own pathetic situation. You''ve got maybe two hours left before that bacteria starts tearing through your brain like a blender. After that, bleeding from every hole in your face. Eyes. Nose. Mouth. Maybe even your ass if you''re lucky."


    "You son of a-" Charles couldn''t finish. He screamed, wing at his temples.


    "I''ve got the antidote!" Fleming came sprinting back like a mad scientist, holding a glowing white vial like it was the Holy Grail.


    Charles grabbed it and downed it like whiskey.


    For a moment-silence. Then-vomit. Yellow fluid sttered the floor.


    "What the hell, Kingston?! You just puked the antidote!"


    "I didn''t mean to!" Charles cried. "I feel like I''m falling through a blender!"


    "You''ve eaten the real shit and you can''t stomach a little serum?!"


    "Just give me another dose!" Charles barked, rage shing in his eyes. Another antidote. Another desperate swallow.


    "Still hurts," Charles hissed, gripping the table so hard his knuckles went white. "Feels like my brain''s trying to crawl out of my ears."


    "That''s impossible..." Fleming muttered. "The form''s solid. Even the artificial intelligence signed off on it- wait... unless..."


    "Unless you screwed it up," Charles growled.


    "No, no, no... wait... this isn''t Neisseria meningitidis..." Fleming''s eyes widened in horror.


    "You dumb bastard!" Charles roared. "What the hell did I just drink then-lemon- scented toilet cleaner?!"


    Fleming spun on Alex. "What the hell did you put in that bacteria?"


    Alex smiled darkly. "Wrong question. The question is-can you cure it? Because if


    not, you better start nning Mr. Kingston''s funeral."


    Fleming''s hands trembled. "You yed dirty."


    "Oh, now you''re crying about morals?" Alex sneered. "We have a game, remember?"


    Fleming''s jaw clenched. "Alright. Fine. Let''s settle this. Give me your antidote, I''ll give you mine. A truce. A tie."


    Alex leaned in, smirking like a demon. "I don''t do ties."


    Fleming stiffened. "Then what do you want?"


    Alex pointed at Charles, "ording to what you said to me earlier, I want the same back from you. I want you to kneel down before me and give me one of your arms. After that, I''ll give you the antidote."


    "YOU BASTARD!" Charles exploded.


    "Language," Alex mocked. "You''re already halfway dead, might as well die with manners."


    Fleming snapped, "You''ve got the bacteria in your system too! Don''t think you''ll survive this either!"


    "Maybe,” Alex said, calmly standing. "But let''s bet on who hits the coffin first."


    "You arrogant-


    Alex turned and whispered something to Jasmine by the door. Then walked out. Calm. Unbothered.


    "HEY! WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU''RE GOING?! Charles screamed.


    "I''m going home to watch a movie," Alex said without looking back. "This show''s over."


    "Alex!!" Charles''s voice cracked like shattered ss.


    Jessica rushed in, grabbing Charles as he copsed again.


    And for the first time in a long, long while...


    Charles was gripped by the fear of death once more.


    He had yed with Alex a few times, but now it seemed Alex was ying with his


    life.


    Would he really die this time?


    Meanwhile, Alex genuinely wondered-"


    "Maybe it''s better if Charles just dies. Now. And forever."