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.
