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Corruption/Part 12

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Part 11: Two Murders and a Funeral Part 12: My Revenge Part 13: A Shocking Discovery
Part 12: My Revenge

by MrConcreteDonkey

MCD's P.O.V.

"Jakebastille!" I yelled at the troll, "I thought you were dead! The gunship you were on blew up, there was no way you could have escaped from that."
"Ever heard of these things called parachutes? There were only two on the ship, and...well, the snack cart couldn't have saved itself." He said, grinning dastardly at the end of his reply.
"That's awful." Began BMB, disgusted, "Even though you are trolls, treating your fellow allies like that is despicable."
"Come on, it's not like they were worth anything." Replied Jake, They were just moobs-"
"Er, I think you mean mooks. Moobs are something...completely different." Smoke corrected his cohort.
Annoyed, Jake yelled "Whatever! The point is...uh, let's just cut to the chase!"

He and Smoke immediately drew their guns, it was obvious they weren't going to go without a fight. We took out our guns too. Users at the scene tried to move away, but Smoke pointed his gun at one of them, ordering him not to move. Jake then shot at us, narrowly missing. Ralph went out to punch him, but Jake grabbed his arm and twisted it around, making him fall to the ground. Neu shot at Smoke, hitting him, but, since the troll was made primarily of smoke, the bullet went through him. I used Flamethrower on Smoke, which caught him alight. Smoke was rising into the air from his body, as he was slowly beginning to burn away. He then charged me, winding me and throwing me back a few metres. Jakebastille ran towards BMB at a furious speed, which was too fast for the user to shoot or protect himself. Jake picked him up by the legs and spun him around, sending his gun flying from his grasp. Neu shot at Jake, trying not to hit BMB. He hit Jake directly in the leg, but that hardly slowed him down. He tossed BMB at a huge speed towards the wall of a building. He flew into the wall, making a huge thud, and then fell back down to Earth, slamming down on the pavement. There was an awful crack, and BMB wailed out in agony.

Jake knelt down due his wounded leg, at which point, Ralph kicked him in the head. After diverting my attention to BMB for a second, I continued burning Smoke, until he had finally disappeared, dead. JakeBastille tried to lift his gun towards a citizen, but Ralph shot him in the back of the neck, killing him instantly. The battle was over, and, full of triumph, we almost forgot about our casualty. "BMB, are you okay?" Neu yelled at him. While we were fighting the trolls, Neu ran to BMB's aid.
"Ralph, call an ambulance." I instructed him, "BMB, you're going to be okay, don't worry."
"MCD, I...I can't feel m-my legs..." BMB uttered through his agony.

The ambulance arrived later, as all the spam the two trolls had created was finally cleaned up.

Five hours later

I never really liked hospital waiting rooms. Whenever you were there, there was always something wrong. For everyone, the patients, the visitors, heck, even the god-awful magazines they provided for you. The doctor told us earlier that they would have to operate on BMB, so, after a few hours, we were still there. When the doctor came out again, it wasn't good news.

"How is BMB, doc?" Asked Ralph. "He's concious," the doctor began, "But he's broken his back in many places, and his legs. Some people get lucky when they break their backs, but, unfortunately, your friend did not. We've tried to operate on him, but, ultimately, the damage done was irreparable. Your friend will, sadly, never walk again."

This was a huge blow to us. Without being able to walk would make carrying out his duties in the Police Force almost impossible to carry out. Everybody was of very huge importance to us, being a force of only eight cops.

"Do you think he'll still be able to carry out his job, doctor?" Asked Neu.
"I highly doubt he'll even be able to get up stairs in his wheelchair." Answered the doctor, "You can try, but, really, I don't know. I'm very sorry. You can go in and talk to him, if you'd like."

We went into the room of BMB, where he was lying in the bed. He was staring at the ceiling when we came in. "So," he pierced the silence, still staring upwards, "I'll never w-walk again?" His eyes were beginning to cloud up with tears, thinking about how hard, and different, his new lifestyle, which he had to adapt to, was going to be.
"'Fraid so." Said Neu. "We're all really sorry."
"Hey, BMB, are you going to be able to return to work? Sorry to change the subject to work so soon, but, well, you are a valuable part of the force." Asked Ralph.
"I really don't kn-know yet, Ralph. It's fine, I know how important this is, but, if I did, I'd have to be doing something much less...strenuous than my current j-job." He replied.
I came up with an idea: "Why don't we move Smasher 101 up to the major team and put you down to the Minor Team. You'd have to do a lot less running around and whatnot. Plus, we could do with someone to stay at the station to answer the calls."
"MCD, that sounds like a p-pr-pretty good idea. Plus I'd have less stairs to get this thing up..." He replied to my idea.
"We have a lift, you know. God knows why, but it's there, and now it has a use."

And so, we made a deal. Smasher would be moved up to the major team (which is what our team was known as since the last major team was killed), while BMB would go down to the minor team. This was more convenient for everyone, after today's course of events.

The day of the funeral

The practice runthroughs of the funeral had become very tedious. I mean, it was just walking slowly holding a wreath, how hard is that? The organisers continuously stopped us for people making the tiniest mistakes. It was annoying, especially for BMB, who had recently been released from hospital, and was in a wheelchair. While Smasher had been moved up to the Major team, and had been briefed and trained for it, BMB was in our team when the first Major team were killed, and therefore should have been in the parade.

Finally, the actual event came. All of the Sysops were in front of me, each, like me and the rest of the police force, holding a wreath. There was a hearse, which we were following, despite there being no bodies found, in single file. When we reached the new memorial, erected for the fallen officers, we stood in a line, and, one by one, each laid a wreath down at the memorial. When it came to one Sysop's turn, however, when he went to lay his wreath, he tripped over. He was Knife. He fell flat on his face, then got up and brushed himself off. He looked very embarassed.