Horror
Players:
Mr. Black, Scro
Scro dragged the cell out kicking and screaming by the membrain. A crowd followed in his wake out of the doors of the night club, none daring to get close enough to attract the attention of the crazed disease. Mr. Black pushed through the crowd and appeared at the front. He watched with one cold gray eye as Scro dragged the innocent red cell out in front of the club and dropped him to the ground. When the cell tried to scramble away Scro grabbed him by the back of his neck and lifted him into the air.
"We're not in the club now. Guess fighting is alright now, right Black?!" Scro shouted, that wicked smile splitting his face as he began to squeeze the cells neck in his hand. The cell tried to pry the fingers from the back of his neck but they were too strong. The cell slid its membrain from the bacteria's grip, but only got a step before Sco grabbed him again. He spun the cell around and thrust his hand forward, driving it into the cell's abdomen up to the wrist. There were gasps and faces contorted in horror as Scro lifted the cell impaled on his hand into the air.
"Gonna save this one Black? Gonna make me stop?"
Mr. Black said nothing, did nothing but stare with that sharp gray eye at the torturing of this cell.
Scro's grin split open and pale teeth peaked out. The wound of the cell seemed to loose color, becoming bone white and brittle around the hand still embeded in him. The color leaked from him, the white chill spreading across his body. The cell coughed hard, expecting to see his insides coming out of his mouth with the way he was wracked with coughs and wheezes. But instead all that came out was fine white powder, like the ash of a hot fire. This time someone in the crowd did scream, and all watched in horror as the White Plague infected the innocent cell. When all the red had vanished from the cell's body, Scro roughtly pulled his hand out. The cell dropped to his feet and stooped in place like he didn't have the energy to raise his body up. Scro laughed and pushed the cell, turning and walking away as the cell fell towards the ground. The once healthy cell smashed into powder when it hit the ground, raining white ash down onto the street. Like any killing before, there were no more screams or attempts of revenge or even whispers among the crowd. Everyone just stared at what had been a friend and family member with white-hot horror in their eyes. Except Mr. Black, who had not wavered his gaze from the retreating figure of Scro.