Part 1:http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-the-blight-1-1588565/#13/
Part 2:http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-the-blight-2-1590093/
Library:http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-library-1589634/#4/
**
Everyone knows how to sing, just not everyone can sing well. Same principle with fighting. I can fight, mainly like teenage girl crossed with a guarana infused kangaroo. But this guy with the ninja sword…he can fight. I am so ^%$#@!
“Ready when you are?” he snarls as he pushes up his sleeves, a barcode tattoo on his forearm.
I look around as money gets changed between the hobos, it isn’t like the track but even people with very little will gamble everything. I even see a representative from the Quan’s here; they’ve got their dirty yellow fingers into everything even homeless fistfights. I can relent and let this prick have my spot…
“How much you cost?” I joke pointing at the barcode “Probably a dollar ninety nine.”
“I got this in…the military,” he stumbles past the real reason. I may have hit a nerve. Best press on it.
“Yo Joe!” Some of the crowd gets my reference, “I can’t fight you with this,” I hold up the nail stick “Anyone got a scanner. Price check aisle three!”
The crowd laughs at my bit echoing through the burnt out warehouse; at least they’re kinda on my side but in this dog-eat-dog, spot pinching world who really knows. He spins the sword angrily and starts forward. He’s probably gonna kill me, but I aint gonna make it ^%%$# easy. I grip the nail stick and hurl it at him. It flies end over end at him. He yells and ducks and that’s my slight opening. I run in and kick him square in the jaw knocking him onto his back and follow it up with a splash that I saw some dude on the wrestling do years ago. We get entangled in one another which means for now he can’t stab me with his sword.
This isn’t the MMA, this is street brawling. I jam a thumb in his eye as he bites down hard on my wrist. I punch him in the throat a few times and he smashes his knees up into my groin. I roll one way in pain, he goes the other.
“You fight like a dog,” he pants with my skin and blood sticking to his teeth as he gets up. "Dogs get put down.”
“Woof!” I grab a handful of ash and dirt from the ground and fling it at him. It doesn’t have the desired effect, just a cloud of dust hanging between us. This $#@! works in the movies!
“Enough of this!” He swings the sword like he’s going to chop a tree so I run. “Come back ya dog!”
I keep running in a circle away from him. He’s getting more and more frustrated, so’s the crowd but I don’t feel like being hacked into pieces for their entertainment.
“&^%$ this!” He curses and reaches into his jacket and pulls out a
“GUN!” screams Paco and the crowd bolt like cockroaches when the lights go on. Punching and kicking another bum to death is one thing but guns bring trouble, and trouble usually wears a ICPD uniform or worse. He aims at me as I do my best to hide-protect-cower-run from him.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
My hip explodes like a ripe melon and I hit the floor, blood gushing from my upper right thigh and kidney region.
“My spot now b!+ch!” he laughs as he comes over and point the gun at my head.
“Over my dea…”
BLAM!
I see Paco wrestle the gun upwards. They begin to mix it up briefly before Paco’s overpowered and kicked away. I somehow leap off the ground and tackle soldier boy to the ground. It’s a blur of colour filled with sounds like a wet cabbage being bounced on a car bonnet.
“BUBECK!”
Paco hauls me off him, my hands still clawing at the face of my downed opponent. Chunks of his flesh are embedded under my nails.
“$#!+ man! You okay?” Paco asks, I barely hear him. All I can see is a dead guy with a head that more resembles a deflated rugby ball in a pool of tomato soup than a head. I shake my head at Paco.
“C’mon we gotta get outta here!” Paco helps me up and we stagger as far from the T Zone as we can.
**
I scream as Paco dumps me against the wall in an alley. “I gotta call an ambulance man!”
“D-don’t!” I throw a trembling hand out to get him but miss. The bullet wounds are agonising but what’s worse is the fiery feeling on my skin. My condition, my blightness, is kicking into overdrive. “I-I’ll be, be f-f-fine.”
“You dyin’!” he yells. “I’m gonna get help okay!”
I try to reason with him but all that comes out is an animalistic scream. I begin convulsing uncontrollably and then vomit this grey goo over myself. Paco says something and runs. I lay there; bleeding, itching, convulsing and dying. I can feel a hunger growing in my soul as my eyes fill with bile and blood. My skin feels like its peeling away.
Oh god!
To be continued...
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