Karmic Retribution

Chapter 6 of that one shot that isn't a one shot. Simon is about to well.. Get a surprise. Mike is gonna have problems in the hospital

Simon sat at the desk in the office, face down in his arms, not crying, just.. Thinking. Taking in what he'd been thinking off while dragging Mike out into an ambulance. Kate walked in and put her hand on Simon's shoulder "They said he'd make it, Simon. It's only his neck and shoulders!" Simon leaned up "I know, but.. I could've helped more. I know I could.." Kate put her hands on her hips. "The best support you can give him is to take the shift's he'd be doing and remain calm."

Simon stood up, and walked out of the office, and into the parking lot. Mike's '76 Chevy Camaro was still there. Simon walked out, sat on the hood, and looked around. A grey town, full of grey people, with paper personalities. Some of them just lived for the thrills. Some lived for the moment. Some lived to serve. Some lived to give orders. And some lived to DIE, God's cannon fodder. Simon got off the hood of Mike's car, and took off down the street.

Meanwhile in the hospital.

Mike sat in the bed, awaiting the sentence of the symptoms of his fall, that no matter how many people tried to console him, he wouldn't let go of the idea and memory that he'd been cloth's lined, not "tripped." The worst part was that Mike couldn't feel his legs. Good lord, he couldn't even MOVE his legs. He could move his arms, head, everything else. He didn't seem able to move waist down.

A woman walked into the room, and she held a clipboard, though she didn't appear to be a doctor. "Hi, Mr..." Mike caught his cue "Schmidt." "Schmidt, yes, Mr. Schmidt, I have bad news." Mike's eyes grew to the size of plates. "Don't.. Nah.." Mike looked at his legs. She looked away. "You'll need to be in a wheelchair, at most for a year or two.. Actually, I don't know. Maybe even eternally." She seemed empathetic. "Listen, Mr. Schmidt, you may be able to just get around in crutches?"

Mike immediately jumped for that idea. "Crutches, please, crutches! I will not be a kitten again!" She gave him a confused look. Mike sighed. "In the sixth grade I sprained my ankle, and I was in a wheelchair for a while, and a group of seventh grade girls pushed me around, always oohing and awwwwing, so annoying, I will not go through that again. Sometimes they'd just leave me in the hall, and walked around on their phones. Ignored me. I was a puppet. They just accepted the job of monitoring me to mess around."

She empathy flashed across her face. She reached out and shook Mike's hand, "My name's Lori Smith, call for me if you need anything. I'm gonna go get you your crutches." "Now!?" "You seem strong, just to test." Lori came back with.. A wheel chair? Mike glared at her, and she smiled sheepishly. "Oh come on Mr. Schmidt, were out of crutches!" Mike grudgingly got into the wheelchair once she helped him onto it. She got behind Mike and began to push him around.

Mike looked around, seeing the white curtains everywhere, it almost drove him mad. How can a place of healing be so depressingly boring? No one ever seemed to be here. "How many people here?" "34 patients." The hospital wasn't a large, big hospital, it would probably house 100 patients at one time. The time was about 5 in the afternoon. "I don't see why you hate being in a wheelchair, you aren't in the sixth grade anymore." She laughed. "You've probably got a woman to get you around?"

Mike frowned. "She was.. Bad for me. A friend.. Dealt with her, in a not.. Orderly fashion." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Schmidt." Mike turned his head until he could almost see her. "Please stop with that "Sorry to hear about that" bullshit. It's driving me crazy. I know you do this to every guy who comes through with a broken leg or something, just please treat me like I'm NOT a sixth grader." He could FEEL the frown on her face.

Mike sighed again "Sorry.. I'm just.. Pissed off. Some of the bruises on my face aren't from my fall. They were her." Lori chuckled. "Don't let girls like that push you around, Mr. Schmidt." Mike caught the pun, and laughed. "It's Mike." "Mike." "How long?" "What?" "How long were you with her?" Mike frowned. "Five. Months." "Yeesh. You tolerated a girl like that for FIVE MONTHS?" "I KNOW!"

Meanwhile with Simon...

Simon was still walking when he saw four guys in spiked leather sleeveless jackets closing in on some small girl in a green hoodie. Simon stopped, and lifted an eyebrow. He saw one make a grab, which she dodged, and the other one grabbed her arm and yanked on her, she yelled out "Help!" Simon jogged over. "Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" Two turned around "Or what? You'll spit in our general direction?" They were mocking Simon's accent.

Simon looked at the one who'd turned around. Cuts across his face and arms, probably the leader or something. A neck beard, grey and frilled, probably thirty years old. Simon walked forward, slow, heavy steps.

FWAM!

Punched the leader with a haymaker, right in the face. The leader stumbled back, before growling, and rushing at Simon. Simon reached into his pocket, and pulled out his pocket knife.

FWIP,

FWAP!

Simon missed his first swing, and the leader hit Simon in the nose, and chose the wrong moment to start chuckling.

SHUNK!

The pocket knife went into the leaders shoulder. He stopped laughing. It was only a two inch long blade, so it didn't do too much damage, but still a big ass cut. Simon's knife was still in the leader's shoulder as he stumbled back and said "Get him! Get that bastard!" The two other gang members charged, the last one still holding the now awed girl.

Simon punched the first member in the gut, second into the nose, and slammed his nose into his knee, and threw him onto the pavement. The other gang member pulled out a M911, and pointed it at Simon. Simon ran and tackled him, and the pistol clattered on the ground, Simon grabbed it and repeatedly pistol whipped the gang member of whom he had pinned underneath him. Simon stopped when the gang member was out cold. Turns out, the pistol was on safety. Stupid man.

The last gang member holding the girl ran, and the leader now stood, knife pulled out of his shoulder. The leader held up his hands, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You can have her, just.. Go away!" He leader crumpled into a ball on the ground. Simon yelled "DAMN RIGHT YOUR SORRY FAT BASTARD! GO TO HELL!" Simon grabbed the woman by the arm, and made it five steps before Simon fell to the ground, passing out from exhaustion.

Simon woke up two hours later, in some strange home, on the couch under a blanket with a glass of water on the coffee table infront of him. "Huh?" The girl from earlier walked in. "Hi.. Guy!" She smiled at him. She was slim, with a tiny build. She looked to be twenty-twenty three. "I'm Cathy, uh.. Thanks for.. That." She chuckled awkwardly. "So what's your name, anti-gangbanger-German-guy?" "Simon Rhienmetall.. Where am I?" She smiled "My friends house, uh.. I.. I got your knife." She handed him his knife.

He frowned "No, keep it. Those assholes ever mess with you again, present them with this. They'll know exactly what to think." "Thanks! Uh question.. You reacted a little quick to that, why'd you jump in?" Simon put his hand over his face. "I watched my mother get shoved around by the mob back home.. I came here to escape that.. Got too deep in the Deutsch mob. I wasn't about to let that happen again." "Hey, anywhere you wanna go? You've earned it." "Please just get me to Freddy Fazbear's pizza. I'm gonna miss my shift."

Turns out the girl owned a lime green thunderbird. "So, Cathy, how'd you end up getting cornered by them?" "Oh you know, a jerky, band of assholes hoping to get some free ass. They're everywhere, alongside the muggers." In the case of life, Simon was divided. Life in America was beautiful but deadly, pretty like shattered glass but dangerous like a black widow. Sweet like honey, but evil lay underneath the skin. Such as life in the United States as in Germany.

Well damn, Simon, you're a great philosopher! Sadly we don't need those anymore, CHAPTER IS OVER! Review, I think this one's pretty good. Onward to victory!