@SpookySquid
Wow, from the extent of his injuries, I have no idea how long he'll be staying at the hospital.
I imagine he would pass out when this is all over.
Pfft, this is nothing for Mrs. Pickles.
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Szechuan McNugget sauce. I want to try it.
9 yrs ago
Fly home buddy. I work alone.
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9 yrs ago
If 93% of conversation is nonverbal, why don't more people shut up?
10 yrs ago
Legend says, if you hold your ear to a conch shell, you'll hear a conch shell.
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Pfft, this is nothing for Mrs. Pickles.
@Melkor
Post is up. I'm 99% sure there is no formatting errors, but let me know if something looks weird.
Post is up. I'm 99% sure there is no formatting errors, but let me know if something looks weird.
Mrs. Pickles was sprawled out on the ground, coughing violently. Red was standing over him, softly panting. Years of smoking, being around vehicles emitting endless amounts of toxic fumes, and being in cruddy bars full of smokers had made Red’s lungs essentially immune to the smoke entering his throat and nose.
Red brought his boot upwards, and then, using his muscular leg, smashed his foot violently into Mrs. Pickles’ already damaged rib cage, and Clarence coughed up blood.
“Pathetic. Really. S class my ass. I’ll tell you what. After I finish you off, I’ll take those two cute kids, and then peel their skin off. Use it as a jacket. Are you glad that happened? If you hadn’t been such a poser, you’d be okay.”
Mrs. Pickles tried to speak, but all that came out was blood, smoke, and coughs. Red kicked him again.
“Ah, enough of this…” Red smiled and pulled out a revolver. “Made me lose my cigarette, got most of my gang arrested or killed because of the damned fire you started. Now, it’s time for you to die-”
Suddenly, one of the fire trucks blasted a stream of water directly through the flames and straight into Red, who was sent to the ground by the water pressure. This is the same stream that gave Ventus a view. Mrs. Pickles took advantage of the opportunity, and rushed towards his backpack. He grabbed the hunting rifle, and aimed it at Red. But Red had recovered and was barreling towards Mrs. Pickles. Clarence fired one shot, but it was too late. He missed, and Red snagged Mrs. Pickles’ gun and tossed it aside.
“Luck will only get you so far,” smiled Red. He grabbed Mrs. Pickles by the throat, and slowly began pushing the hero backwards, towards the flames. Mrs. Pickles struggled, and managed to send himself and Red to the ground. Mrs. Pickles head ended up with his head in his own backpack, and as he struggled to get out of it, Red grabbed him by the collar, punched him in the gut, and then began strangling Mrs. Pickles again...
*Shift to Ventus' POV*
At first, there didn’t seem to be anything eventful going on, with the exception of the fire, when suddenly a rough man wearing a leather jacket emerged from the fire, coughing. The police approached him, and he tried to run, but after about ten seconds of jogging, the man realized that his lungs were too full of smoke to get far, and he stopped and allowed himself to be arrested. A couple others were chased briefly by the police, all of them wearing red, and most of them wearing outfits that bikers would typically wear. They were, like the first man that emerged, quickly arrested.
Ventus could not hear much over the roar of flames and the sirens, however, he did hear officers shouting the words fire, gang, rainbow, and red over the noise.
Ventus was glancing down at the park, using his abilities to clear some of the fire, and saw a fire truck splash tons of water on a certain portion of the park. Steam spiraled into the air, and Ventus could suddenly see something… two figures in the center of the park… he couldn’t hear much or see the details of what was going on… but he could see two figures moving around and struggling...
*Return to Mrs. Pickles*
“You are useless. So weak… if you’re a hero, then, hell, I am, too!”
Red laughed at that, and then tossed Mrs. Pickles directly into the fire, like a rag doll. Red smiled as Clarence's cries rang out, above the roar of the flame and the sirens. Police officers and firemen stopped and listened as they heard the screams of a man being burned alive. The screaming pierced Ventus’ ears.
Red turned around, chuckling to himself, and then began to walk away. He was about to make a clean exit through a pathway that was nearly void of flames, when Mrs. Pickles suddenly emerged from the fire, completely shirtless, and tackled Red to the ground. Mrs. Pickles punched Red over and over again, but it didn’t make a difference. Mrs. Pickles’ knuckles began to bleed.
Red pushed Mrs. Pickles off of him, and soon Mrs. Pickles was pinned to the floor and Red was punching Mrs. Pickles over and over again. Now, the sound of bones breaking rang in Clarence's ears as Mrs. Pickles suffered punch after punch to his jaw.
Red spat on Mrs. Pickles twitching body, grinning wickedly.
“Well, I have to give you some credit. I don't know how the hell did you survived that fire. Well, it doesn’t matter. You’ll never walk after a punch like…”
Mrs. Pickles slowly pulled himself to his feet.
“What? How?”
Mrs. Pickles spat on Red’s boots. Blood now soaked the gang member’s shoes.
Red punched Mrs. Pickles in the gut again. Mrs. Pickles was flung to the ground, and then stood up once more. And the cycle continued.
Ventus soon had cleared enough of the fire too get an excellent view of Red abusing Mrs. Pickles. Soon, Mrs. Pickles was covered in bruises and nasty cuts, and clearly had multiple broken bones. Sure, Red was tiring from having to punch the man so much, and his knuckles were bruising, but Mrs. Pickles was tiring more quickly. If Ventus didn’t do something, Mrs. Pickles would probably pass out soon… but a question would still remain in Ventus’ brain… how had Mrs. Pickles survived being thrown into the fire?!?!
*An explanation*
Mrs. Pickles’ face slammed into his bag, and he struggled to pull himself out… ugh.. This guy was tough. But he couldn’t back down. Wouldn’t back down. Argh, his face hurt though. What had he slammed into?
Then, he realized what had happened.
My whiskey! Damn it! Mrs. Pickles had fallen head first into the alcohol he had been saving for later. He felt a hand around his throat, and then was spun around wildly as small amount of glass punctured his face.
Air, air, air. That was all Mrs. Pickles could think of. The smoke. The hand around his throat. And then, suddenly, he was flung into the fire…
He screamed, expecting pain to fill his body. But then, he registered what was going on. He wasn't dead.
When Mrs. Pickles had been thrown into the fire, he had been covered in alcohol. As the alcohol burned away, Mrs. Pickles remained, relatively unharmed. Realizing this, Mrs. Pickles dashed out of the flames as he pulled his burning shirt off and then tackled Red...
*But now…*
Mrs. Pickles was groaning, pain enveloped his body. He couldn’t breathe. The smoke, although it had lessened, was still in the air. Plus, his ribcage had, essentially, been placed in a blender, and then sloppily thrown back into his body. His lungs were in an awkward position. He had also had the wind knocked out of him several times. Breathing also required his mouth and nose to move ever so slightly, and his nose had been dislocated, and his jaw was broken. He couldn’t even speak.
His hands were terrible bruised from punching Red, and he had several burn marks on them and his legs. The lower portion of his pants had been singed, and he had a third degree burn near his ankle. His skull had even suffered a slight fracture on the surface, simply from one of Red’s punches. His left arm was dislocated, and his right arm had snapped at the beginning of the fight.
Mrs. Pickles was pinned again by Red, who stretched Mrs. Pickles leg and put a great deal of pressure on it. *Snap!*
Mrs. Pickles cried out as his femur bone was snapped and his knee shattered and then threw Mrs. Pickles to the ground. Shaking, he laid in a fetal position for a moment, but then composed himself. Again, he stood up. As long as his heart was pounding, Mrs. Pickles was fighting.
Red brought his boot upwards, and then, using his muscular leg, smashed his foot violently into Mrs. Pickles’ already damaged rib cage, and Clarence coughed up blood.
“Pathetic. Really. S class my ass. I’ll tell you what. After I finish you off, I’ll take those two cute kids, and then peel their skin off. Use it as a jacket. Are you glad that happened? If you hadn’t been such a poser, you’d be okay.”
Mrs. Pickles tried to speak, but all that came out was blood, smoke, and coughs. Red kicked him again.
“Ah, enough of this…” Red smiled and pulled out a revolver. “Made me lose my cigarette, got most of my gang arrested or killed because of the damned fire you started. Now, it’s time for you to die-”
Suddenly, one of the fire trucks blasted a stream of water directly through the flames and straight into Red, who was sent to the ground by the water pressure. This is the same stream that gave Ventus a view. Mrs. Pickles took advantage of the opportunity, and rushed towards his backpack. He grabbed the hunting rifle, and aimed it at Red. But Red had recovered and was barreling towards Mrs. Pickles. Clarence fired one shot, but it was too late. He missed, and Red snagged Mrs. Pickles’ gun and tossed it aside.
“Luck will only get you so far,” smiled Red. He grabbed Mrs. Pickles by the throat, and slowly began pushing the hero backwards, towards the flames. Mrs. Pickles struggled, and managed to send himself and Red to the ground. Mrs. Pickles head ended up with his head in his own backpack, and as he struggled to get out of it, Red grabbed him by the collar, punched him in the gut, and then began strangling Mrs. Pickles again...
*Shift to Ventus' POV*
At first, there didn’t seem to be anything eventful going on, with the exception of the fire, when suddenly a rough man wearing a leather jacket emerged from the fire, coughing. The police approached him, and he tried to run, but after about ten seconds of jogging, the man realized that his lungs were too full of smoke to get far, and he stopped and allowed himself to be arrested. A couple others were chased briefly by the police, all of them wearing red, and most of them wearing outfits that bikers would typically wear. They were, like the first man that emerged, quickly arrested.
Ventus could not hear much over the roar of flames and the sirens, however, he did hear officers shouting the words fire, gang, rainbow, and red over the noise.
Ventus was glancing down at the park, using his abilities to clear some of the fire, and saw a fire truck splash tons of water on a certain portion of the park. Steam spiraled into the air, and Ventus could suddenly see something… two figures in the center of the park… he couldn’t hear much or see the details of what was going on… but he could see two figures moving around and struggling...
*Return to Mrs. Pickles*
“You are useless. So weak… if you’re a hero, then, hell, I am, too!”
Red laughed at that, and then tossed Mrs. Pickles directly into the fire, like a rag doll. Red smiled as Clarence's cries rang out, above the roar of the flame and the sirens. Police officers and firemen stopped and listened as they heard the screams of a man being burned alive. The screaming pierced Ventus’ ears.
Red turned around, chuckling to himself, and then began to walk away. He was about to make a clean exit through a pathway that was nearly void of flames, when Mrs. Pickles suddenly emerged from the fire, completely shirtless, and tackled Red to the ground. Mrs. Pickles punched Red over and over again, but it didn’t make a difference. Mrs. Pickles’ knuckles began to bleed.
Red pushed Mrs. Pickles off of him, and soon Mrs. Pickles was pinned to the floor and Red was punching Mrs. Pickles over and over again. Now, the sound of bones breaking rang in Clarence's ears as Mrs. Pickles suffered punch after punch to his jaw.
Red spat on Mrs. Pickles twitching body, grinning wickedly.
“Well, I have to give you some credit. I don't know how the hell did you survived that fire. Well, it doesn’t matter. You’ll never walk after a punch like…”
Mrs. Pickles slowly pulled himself to his feet.
“What? How?”
Mrs. Pickles spat on Red’s boots. Blood now soaked the gang member’s shoes.
Red punched Mrs. Pickles in the gut again. Mrs. Pickles was flung to the ground, and then stood up once more. And the cycle continued.
Ventus soon had cleared enough of the fire too get an excellent view of Red abusing Mrs. Pickles. Soon, Mrs. Pickles was covered in bruises and nasty cuts, and clearly had multiple broken bones. Sure, Red was tiring from having to punch the man so much, and his knuckles were bruising, but Mrs. Pickles was tiring more quickly. If Ventus didn’t do something, Mrs. Pickles would probably pass out soon… but a question would still remain in Ventus’ brain… how had Mrs. Pickles survived being thrown into the fire?!?!
*An explanation*
Mrs. Pickles’ face slammed into his bag, and he struggled to pull himself out… ugh.. This guy was tough. But he couldn’t back down. Wouldn’t back down. Argh, his face hurt though. What had he slammed into?
Then, he realized what had happened.
My whiskey! Damn it! Mrs. Pickles had fallen head first into the alcohol he had been saving for later. He felt a hand around his throat, and then was spun around wildly as small amount of glass punctured his face.
Air, air, air. That was all Mrs. Pickles could think of. The smoke. The hand around his throat. And then, suddenly, he was flung into the fire…
He screamed, expecting pain to fill his body. But then, he registered what was going on. He wasn't dead.
When Mrs. Pickles had been thrown into the fire, he had been covered in alcohol. As the alcohol burned away, Mrs. Pickles remained, relatively unharmed. Realizing this, Mrs. Pickles dashed out of the flames as he pulled his burning shirt off and then tackled Red...
*But now…*
Mrs. Pickles was groaning, pain enveloped his body. He couldn’t breathe. The smoke, although it had lessened, was still in the air. Plus, his ribcage had, essentially, been placed in a blender, and then sloppily thrown back into his body. His lungs were in an awkward position. He had also had the wind knocked out of him several times. Breathing also required his mouth and nose to move ever so slightly, and his nose had been dislocated, and his jaw was broken. He couldn’t even speak.
His hands were terrible bruised from punching Red, and he had several burn marks on them and his legs. The lower portion of his pants had been singed, and he had a third degree burn near his ankle. His skull had even suffered a slight fracture on the surface, simply from one of Red’s punches. His left arm was dislocated, and his right arm had snapped at the beginning of the fight.
Mrs. Pickles was pinned again by Red, who stretched Mrs. Pickles leg and put a great deal of pressure on it. *Snap!*
Mrs. Pickles cried out as his femur bone was snapped and his knee shattered and then threw Mrs. Pickles to the ground. Shaking, he laid in a fetal position for a moment, but then composed himself. Again, he stood up. As long as his heart was pounding, Mrs. Pickles was fighting.
@SpookySquid
I thought he wore a cape.
But he looks beautiful.
Normally, yes, but I didn't want to take the time to add one.
After months of intense preparation, it's finally done. This is what Mrs. Pickles Looks like, in all of his glory.
Blue Eyes White Dragon.
@Melkor
By the way, I will mention that the entire there is a large park in the fire, so Ventus should probably try and work on that... details will be revealed after he puts some of the fire out.
By the way, I will mention that the entire there is a large park in the fire, so Ventus should probably try and work on that... details will be revealed after he puts some of the fire out.
@SpookySquid Is Gerald just a throw away NPC? I'm gonna start working on a post. Also, what should I expect when Ventus arrives at the park? Actually, I might just end the post with him drawing near.
Yes, Gerald is a throw away NPC. Also, you should probably end the post with him drawing near.
Post is up!
Emily Daniels smiled as she cut into the carrot. She heard footsteps and her smile grew as her two kids reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the kitchen. “Hey, mom, what’s for dinner?” asked her seven year old son, Hank.
Her four year old, Sally, drummed out a beat on the side of the counter with her toy maracas.
“Soup,” she said, “but it won’t be ready for a while. Plus, we don’t want to start eating before your dad brings your older sister back from soccer practice.”
“But I’m hungry...” Hank whined. ...“Well, I guess you can have a few carrots...” said Emily as she reached grabbed a slice and gave Hank and Sally each a piece.
“Thanks mom!” said Hank, and with that, he and Sally ran back upstairs.
Emily finished cutting the carrots, and then got on her knees and rifled through where they kept the cans. Where were the canned potatoes? She could have sworn that she had taken them out with the other groceries. Maybe she had accidentally put them in the closet. She stood, but felt a strange pressure on the back of her neck.
“Don’t move,” said a man’s voice in a hushed whisper. She froze.
“Your kids seemed cute. Hank and Sally? They really love you. If Joseph and Rachel love you half as much, you’re a lucky woman. But it would be horrible for them to walk in and see their mother’s brains on the floor.”
“What do you want? Money? Just… don’t kill me. I-I know people that would hunt you down if you so much as touch me and my family.”
“I know. Why don’t we talk about these people you know? It seems like you have pretty good friends. Friends your husband doesn’t know about. But if I was in a gang, I wouldn't tell anyone either.”
“You’re ridiculous. What gang?” she hissed
“Don’t play dumb with me Emily. Or should I call you Green?”
“How- How do you know-”
“Did you know that there is a warehouse up north that has a little bit of paperwork that traced back to you? I thought you were maybe a small piece of the puzzle at best, but the more I researched, the more I found out about you. All sorts of money was managed by you. In fact, I’d venture to guess you’re in charge of the money. Am I wrong?”
Emily didn't respond.
“Now, I know you know a lot. And I know you won’t tell me everything, even if I threaten your life. Because even if I let you live, if you told me everything you knew, then you’d still be killed. So, I’m giving you some extra incentive. You know those flowers up stairs that Joseph got you? And that little stuffed giraffe that Sally probably sleeps with every night? And the closet that Hank keeps his clothes in? This controller I’m holding will make all of those explode. Everything upstairs will be destroyed. Or, rather, everyone.”
“You sick bastard,” Emily muttered.
The man pressed the gun harder against the back of her head. “No, I’ll tell you who the sick bastard is. Orange. Kidnapping the twins just so he could mount my head on a wall to show that he killed an S-Class hero.”
Emily smirked. “Oh, you’re Mrs. Pickles? You think you can stop a whole gang? You’re a joke. You can’t take down the Rainbow Gang.”
“Maybe Mrs. Pickles can’t stop you. But he’s not trying to take down the Rainbow Gang. Because when the Rainbow Gang kidnapped Cynthia and Collin, they didn’t piss off Mrs. Pickles. They pissed off Clarence. So I suggest you start talking.”
“I don’t know where Orange is, or the twins. But I know someone who would know where the twins are.”
“Who?”
“Red. He’s hanging out in the park for a smoke. He’ll probably be there for the next half hour.”
“You better be telling the truth. Because if you’re lying, I won’t kill you. I’ll kill your husband. And your three kids. Do I make myself clear?”
She nodded.
“And here, you might want to have the… ‘remote.’”
The man thrust a can of potatoes into her hand and left before she could turn around.
**************************************************************************************************************************
@Melkor
Gerald sprinted away from the park. He knew there was a hero nearby doing something… what was it…? An interview! That’s right! Wasn't it Ventus? Yes, it was definitely Ventus. His sister in law had talked about filming the interview... now, he just needed to get there. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too late…
Gerald burst into the studio and interrupted the interview. The camerawoman looked at the man, confused. “Gerald, what are you doing here?”
Gerald ignored his sister and law and spoke directly to Ventus.
“City X… park… fight… fire… Mrs. Pickles… gang… help…”
With that, the man fell to his knees, exhausted, panting, and out of breath.
Her four year old, Sally, drummed out a beat on the side of the counter with her toy maracas.
“Soup,” she said, “but it won’t be ready for a while. Plus, we don’t want to start eating before your dad brings your older sister back from soccer practice.”
“But I’m hungry...” Hank whined. ...“Well, I guess you can have a few carrots...” said Emily as she reached grabbed a slice and gave Hank and Sally each a piece.
“Thanks mom!” said Hank, and with that, he and Sally ran back upstairs.
Emily finished cutting the carrots, and then got on her knees and rifled through where they kept the cans. Where were the canned potatoes? She could have sworn that she had taken them out with the other groceries. Maybe she had accidentally put them in the closet. She stood, but felt a strange pressure on the back of her neck.
“Don’t move,” said a man’s voice in a hushed whisper. She froze.
“Your kids seemed cute. Hank and Sally? They really love you. If Joseph and Rachel love you half as much, you’re a lucky woman. But it would be horrible for them to walk in and see their mother’s brains on the floor.”
“What do you want? Money? Just… don’t kill me. I-I know people that would hunt you down if you so much as touch me and my family.”
“I know. Why don’t we talk about these people you know? It seems like you have pretty good friends. Friends your husband doesn’t know about. But if I was in a gang, I wouldn't tell anyone either.”
“You’re ridiculous. What gang?” she hissed
“Don’t play dumb with me Emily. Or should I call you Green?”
“How- How do you know-”
“Did you know that there is a warehouse up north that has a little bit of paperwork that traced back to you? I thought you were maybe a small piece of the puzzle at best, but the more I researched, the more I found out about you. All sorts of money was managed by you. In fact, I’d venture to guess you’re in charge of the money. Am I wrong?”
Emily didn't respond.
“Now, I know you know a lot. And I know you won’t tell me everything, even if I threaten your life. Because even if I let you live, if you told me everything you knew, then you’d still be killed. So, I’m giving you some extra incentive. You know those flowers up stairs that Joseph got you? And that little stuffed giraffe that Sally probably sleeps with every night? And the closet that Hank keeps his clothes in? This controller I’m holding will make all of those explode. Everything upstairs will be destroyed. Or, rather, everyone.”
“You sick bastard,” Emily muttered.
The man pressed the gun harder against the back of her head. “No, I’ll tell you who the sick bastard is. Orange. Kidnapping the twins just so he could mount my head on a wall to show that he killed an S-Class hero.”
Emily smirked. “Oh, you’re Mrs. Pickles? You think you can stop a whole gang? You’re a joke. You can’t take down the Rainbow Gang.”
“Maybe Mrs. Pickles can’t stop you. But he’s not trying to take down the Rainbow Gang. Because when the Rainbow Gang kidnapped Cynthia and Collin, they didn’t piss off Mrs. Pickles. They pissed off Clarence. So I suggest you start talking.”
“I don’t know where Orange is, or the twins. But I know someone who would know where the twins are.”
“Who?”
“Red. He’s hanging out in the park for a smoke. He’ll probably be there for the next half hour.”
“You better be telling the truth. Because if you’re lying, I won’t kill you. I’ll kill your husband. And your three kids. Do I make myself clear?”
She nodded.
“And here, you might want to have the… ‘remote.’”
The man thrust a can of potatoes into her hand and left before she could turn around.
**************************************************************************************************************************
@Melkor
Gerald sprinted away from the park. He knew there was a hero nearby doing something… what was it…? An interview! That’s right! Wasn't it Ventus? Yes, it was definitely Ventus. His sister in law had talked about filming the interview... now, he just needed to get there. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too late…
Gerald burst into the studio and interrupted the interview. The camerawoman looked at the man, confused. “Gerald, what are you doing here?”
Gerald ignored his sister and law and spoke directly to Ventus.
“City X… park… fight… fire… Mrs. Pickles… gang… help…”
With that, the man fell to his knees, exhausted, panting, and out of breath.
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