Fighting Chance Vol 2 #17

Ugh... nngh… Sound ripped out of his throat, raw and wet, as the fighting raged on in front of him. He couldn’t even track any of it anymore, his head spinning and the whole world a smear of... concrete… concrete and rust.

A'ight... okay... One hand went down, palm cut down to skin and blood; flesh stinging and burning as he tried to push himself up.

Zain blinked as he moved his other arm, nothing touching the ground but a constant stream of blood. Wha… His left arm... didn't...

It didn't work.

He looked down as the blood kept flowing, nothing else in place of it. ...oh.

Oh, God. He’d been hurt a lot the last couple months. Tough as he was, he wasn’t all that strong and doing shit like fighting people with knives and guns and bats had gotten him hurt in all sorts of ways.

Too much and too often; a hundred different hits to every part of his body. Cuts and bruises and all types of hurt he didn’t even have words for. 

This was different. This was… Nooo.

The word slipped out of his mouth, low and slow as it sounded off in his head. A stump stared back at him, his arm not there at all. It was gone.

Just gone.

A mess of red and white and blood and bone, and nothing like the regular dark skin he was used to seeing as he stared at his own insides, gushing and spitting and spurting.

Spurting. That was the word, the entire word bouncing around his skull the same as metal on metal in the background, a stupid hollow sound. 

It was... spurting.

In time with his heart.

...Nah.

Nah, nah, nah, that…

Movies were weird about blood, movies and TV too; they never got the look right, never got it down for some reason. It was slower than you’d think; the flow more like real-thin syrup, weird as that sounded. It stuck to him before letting go, thick and lazy surges of the stuff in a clumpy thick texture as it smeared at the rest of his skin. Thump-squirt. Thump-squirt.

Copper. Iron.

The smell forced its way up his nostrils; his blood overpowering all others as it gushed all over the white of his shorts. Red clung to his skin, already darkening fast as it soaked deep into his hoodie and made it feel so much heavier. That's... that's my blood. That's... that's a lot.

Zain turned around, scrambling back and moving slower than he felt; everything suddenly all slow motion and blurring streams in front of his eyes. Gotta… He kicked with his legs, one good arm pushing him back even further as construction site gravel dug deep into the cuts on his palm, sharp and real.

The fourteen-year-old bit back a groan as the fight just kept going on behind him, more screams and shouts and everything else he couldn’t focus on. Gotta... gotta move, soldier.

Soldier? Stick’s name for him flashed through his thoughts, the same as everything else the old blind bastard said a split-second later. Expendable.

Fuck Stick. Fuck the Hand. Anger kept him going, ice in his chest as his heart kept pounding loud and cutting through the haze in his head. Fuck…

With a grunt, Zain pushed himself up to his feet.

And immediately nearly fell again, off-balance and out of it as the world refused to move with him. His left side was missing something important, almost sending him to the ground face-first before he took another step.

The itch tore up his shoulder and down into nowhere. 

A feeling like twitching in fingers that were over there, somewhere in the dark that he couldn’t see, on the blood-stained gravel he couldn’t make out. Don't look. Don't... think. Just... move.

He forced the Ki, forcing the energy through his body as Zain tried to push past the black spots dancing in his eyes. Gotta… gotta go.

He crawled past some half-built scaffolding, leaving a trail; a wet dark drip of his own life painting the gravel, the dirt and the concrete as feet finally met sidewalk.

Keep… keep going. He stared out at the open street through hazy eyes, the fighting in the construction site fading quicker and quicker the farther away he got. The world outside it was loud; a car passing with a honk, music thumping with a trap beat that shook windows, a siren a mile away screaming into the night. 

Night… it was after midnight, the streets not empty but a lot less packed than the day. Less eyes. 

The eyes that were on him slid off, people minding their business as they kept on moving past him, some even crossing the street before he could near them. F-fuckers… Zain grit his teeth as he slumped over, one good arm gripping a busted chain-link fence to keep him upright.  

Keep going. Another curse he could barely hear left his mouth as he hauled himself up.

Nnnnnggghhh...

Stumbling across the street was another challenge, his balance fighting him with each motion and weight making every step more of a… lurch.

Tires squealed like they were dying, horn blaring louder than he’d ever heard it as a taxi screeched to a stop just a few feet away from him. "The fuck, kid?!"

Zain didn’t even turn, moving forward as each step took him further and further away from the Hand.

And further and further into an alley, the smell of old piss and rotting garbage almost overpowering the blood. Zain blinked as he swung his legs forward, moving slower now as his lurch dragged into a hobble.

The hobble didn’t last long, his eyes going wide as his legs started to shake a second before he started to drop. F- His shoulder hit plywood, a door stopping his fall as a shudder ran through his body, the taste of blood filling his mouth.

A breath nearly left his lips, pain and relief all at once, but then the wood splintered, giving way as he fell inside. -uck.

Biting down on another scream, Zain dragged himself in, crawling more than anything until he pushed himself up against a wall, a wet streak oozing behind him. ...Huh... huh... huh…

His arm was still nowhere, the stump staring back at him. Okay... just fix it. We fix shit. Broken bones, stab wounds... c'mon. He raised his... his right hand.

C'mon...

The golden light came to life, shining down on him

He held his stump as high as he could to the glow.

...

...HSSSSSSS...

The smell.

“F-fucking fuck fu-” He snatched his hand back as the smell of bad pork filled the room, the light so much more painful than the bleeding. “FUCK!” Whatever it was trying to do, it wasn’t the healing Zain was used to. No, it was trying to seal his arm over, almost burning the whole thing shut.

But it... it wasn't...

For some reason, it wasn't closing it, nothing growing back like he needed it to. Zain stared at his arm as the spurting slowed, blood drip dying down to so much less than before.

That wasn’t bad, but… But...

C'mon, you stupid... WORK!

He held his other hand back up, gritting his teeth as he tried to call the light back. For a second, the light shone bright down on him in the darkness of the abandoned room.

Then it... flickered.

And... died.

He...

He tried again.

...Nothing.

Nah...

Nah, c'mon...

He dropped his arm.

The... the light... it was... gone.

...It...

It's not... it's not enough.

A... a broken bone, sure. A cut, bet.

But...

A whole...

A whole arm...

...That was...

...That was too much to ask, apparently.

...

He...

Oh, God. Teeth sank deep into his tongue, the taste of iron already in his mouth even as more gushed free. Oh god. I'm... I'm dying.

In some... weak-ass abandoned building.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Running when he should have just stayed, fighting when he should have just run; everything just one bad choice after another. ...Expendable.

He hissed out again, shuddering as everything darkened around his eyes. Fuck... that.

He was... dizzy. So... dizzy.

The world was... gray.

He... blinked.

...

...Wha...

...What...

...On his lap.

...There was... shit... on his lap.

...Huh?

He blinked again. Hard.

A set of syringes looked back at him. Three of 'em. In a... metal... holder?

Full of something green, the whole thing bubbling and shifting the longer he stared at it. What the fu...

He... he didn't... Where… Did I... did I have those? The question bounced around his head, black spots darkening his eyes and making it harder to focus on the weird green stuff sitting on him. Did... did someone...

He looked around the room, the dark blinking back at him as the world continued to drift. I'm... I'm buggin'. Even still, that didn’t stop him from reaching down and grabbing one with clumsy fingers, the thing nearly falling out of his hands before he finally got it out of the holder.

Cold glass suddenly felt real in his grip, more real than anything else as he felt his mind finally focus on something other than moving. ...Hojiku... Zai... The name... How do I know…

He knew more than that, not just the name; what it did, how it worked, and how to use it…

And the fact he had no other choice. Expendable? He grit his teeth. Nah. Fuck that.

Cold fingers fumbled with the cap, numbness fighting him every step of the way. Stupid... get... off… Grunting, he raised the thing to his mouth, teeth sinking into the plastic cap as he yanked his head back and stared at the thick needle glinting in the darkness.

Fuck it.

He raised the syringe and brought it down.

Hard.

Into his chest.

...Nngh...

His thumb pushed the plunger down and ...

...Nothing.

...

...Wait.

...

...Oh.

...Oh...

...OH, GOD...

...AAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

LAVA.

It wasn't pain. It was... FIRE.

It poured... from his chest... out.

Everywhere.

He could feel it... burning... through his veins.

His bones… flesh...

Boiling.

Moving.

Veins bulging.

He could see them... pushing... under his skin... green and black...

He screamed.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Trail of Blood (200 DP)

• Travel a mile while nearly dead.

Slamming the Gates (100 DP)

• Stay alive past the point a normal human would give up

ROLL: Recognition of Patterns (100 CP) [ToDaG] {Talent}: You are talented in discerning patterns, this allows you to quickly and accurately figure out puzzles and to decode complex patterns. Useful for figuring out what an inscription should do without activating it.

ROLL: Hojiku-Zai (200 CP) [Bleach] {Treasure}: A limited production drug developed by Mayuri Kurotsuchi, and normally kept for his personal use. The Hojiku-Zai, also known as Flesh-Healing Medicine, is presented as a green fluid sloshing around in a syringe.

When administered, it will cause rapid regeneration of the recipient’s body parts, able to quickly mend large wounds or even entire missing limbs. Not quite so effective with vital organs, but then most wouldn’t survive long enough for it to be administered anyway.

There is the unfortunate side effect of intense pain while the drug is in effect, but I’m sure you can grit through that in return for a lost arm, right? You receive three vials per day, with the contents usually being expended after one use.

Dojo Points: 400