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RC9GN--Poisoned, Chapter 6: Answers.“We got him now Viceroy,” McFist shouts happily. “My plan worked!” He started dancing as a one-person party.
“Well so far. The ninja has like, four days to live. In that time he could be cured!” Viceroy says matter-of-factly. “The poison I gave him has one very rare cure!”
McFist stopped dancing at the news. “Viceroy,” He says sweetly, then angry, “When I said find me incurable poison, I didn’t mean poison that has a cure!”
“I know that sir, that’s why the poison is from the Sorcerer himself!” Viceroy says calmly.
“Say what,” McFist asked shocked, “The Sorcerer?”
Viceroy sighed and explained the plan, “The sorcerer gave me some of his blood. His blood contains rare poison that only he can survive it. The only cure is a flower...”
“A flower!? The last time I checked, there are millions of them!” McFist interrupted.
“Sir, if you let me fini
RC9GN- Poisoned: Chapter 4: ExplainedHoward saw it all go down in the hallway along with the whole school.
Seen the fight end with the ninja down and the robot self-destruct. Heard the pain shriek come from the ninja as he twitched.
Him along with three other class mates known as Flute Girl, Theresa Fowler, and surprisingly Bash ran up to help the ninja.
Heidi, Howard’s older sister, was already there filming the destructions. Which is totally like her.
By the time they reached the ninja, his eyes were half way closed and he was motionless.
The first thing Howard thought when he saw him was, ‘My best friend is dead!’ But before he could react to this, Randy groans.
Not a loud, heavy groan that you would use on a pop quiz, but a faint, hopeful groan that lets you know someone is still alive.
Over joyed by this discovery, Howard crouches down next to the ninja while the others are still processing what to do.
“Ninja?” Howard asked choosing his words carefully, “Are you okay?”
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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