Moi-Moi: Hey guys! Been a while. I know. I haven't really been feeling the best and I've been under some pressure lately. You know... Life... Either way, I finally felt up to finishing this chapter. To be honest, this story was supposed to go in a slightly different direction. But! I think I like this new path better. I hope you guys do, too.

Also, this chapter was a little problematic for me with some scenes. I always try to keep the biology somewhat accurate. There were just some parts that were harder to write because I had to keep in mind that these are cells and viruses. Not human bodies with bones and stuff.

Quick warning, this chapter has a bit of violence. (Shocker! Violence is not what you expected from this story by now!) I'm not really a violent person nor do I think that I'm a good judge on how it feels to do these acts of how it feels to have them done to you. But I tried my best to visualize how they would feel and play out. *shrugs* Also, I am in no way condoning these types of behaviors...obviously

So, let's just get started.

~:~

Humming lightly to myself, I wiped some residual cytoplasm off my hand with a handkerchief before tossing the soiled cloth away. I ignored the fire raging in the building behind me and slipped my shades onto my face. Across the street, I could see some younger germs wide-eyed and shaking in terror before they quickly ducked into alleys. I supposed I made quite the sight exiting a burning building in the middle of night with stains of cytoplasm on my trench coat and shoes.

I was on a strict time limit. I had a plan in mind of what I needed to get done and what moves I needed to make. It was practically second nature by now. And yet, I'd spent the last eighteen hours in the lowest, scummiest parts of Marcus relieving tension. To be fair, I had tried to recruit some muscle to help my plans. They just weren't picking up what I was putting down. It was so hard to find loyal and willing germs these days.

I was just about to leave the scene when I heard some tires screeching loudly up the street. I stopped and turned to see three, black cars come to a stop on the street in front of me. Immediately, some germs crawled and hopped out the rides and started cocking their guns. They were all violet in color with translucent membranes. Probably bacteria.

"Hey, you! Did you do this!?" one of them shouted and pointed his gun at me.

I looked over my shoulder at the building that was mostly burned to the ground. "Sorry, my man. Were those cats friends of yours? I guess my temper got a little out of hand in there," I said with a low chuckle. Wasn't the first time tonight…

Another cat pushed his way past some stooges and locked eyes with me. From the way he walked it wasn't hard to tell that he was the cell in charge of this operation. I was surprised that he wasn't the typical, greying, fat boss. He was a tall, decent-looking bacteria with a full head of smooth hair and a nice suit. A real mold breaker. "You got a lotta nerve making a move against the Pneumonia family," he said as he shrugged off his jacket and cracked his neck.

"Pneumonia?" I asked with a brow raised. "I had no idea."

"Well, now you know," he said and rolled up his sleeves.

I'm sure that he must intimidate the spit out of the average germ or virus that crossed him. But me? I grinned at him. "I had no idea I've been killin' kin all night," I said. That made him stop short. "Well, distant kin. I'm half Pyro on my momma's side."

I could see some of the other bacteria falter a bit at this. What can I say? The name Scarlet Fever still holds some weight. They started looking at each other before staring at their boss like some lost fools. It looked like I could maybe make some loyal lackeys out of them yet. They looked like tried and true followers as long as they a strong leader. I smirked, tucked my shades away and locked gazes with the glaring boss in front of me.

"I don't give a spit if you're half Malaria! You're not about to get away with the spit you pulled. You're new so I'm just going to have to teach you how the Pneumonia family handles disrespect," he said and cracked his knuckles.

This oughta be good.

I let him get close to me and swing his fist towards my face. I leaned away from the punch, but he was already coming in hot with his other fist. I smirked at him as I dodged again. "That all you got, big man? Maybe you should have your boys hold me down? I'm just a little too fast for you," I said with a chuckle.

He sneered at me before reaching out with another fist. I blocked his blow with my arm before landing a blow to his gut. I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him bent at the waist and coughing loudly. I looked up at the cells watching the fight and smirked at them. They still held their guns, but they were watching their boss with stunned expressions. I grabbed the boss by the front of his shirt. "I'm not surprised that this is the best you can do. Your boys couldn't handle me either," I taunted with a grin.

I heard him grumble, "Piece of spit" to himself just before his fist went flying towards my face. I was too surprised to dodge effectively and took the hit to my cheek before he pushed me away. I could feel my membrane sting and throb and reached up to touch it. When he straightened up, I could see brass knuckles on his hand with the small spikes poking out from each of the knuckles. He smirked at me for a second before a hard glare took over his face.

For a second, I was too stunned to speak. It was the same side of my face that Kat had scratched. Now, momma didn't raise no fool. I knew that this bacteria wasn't Kat. They weren't even remotely related. But I couldn't help but compare the glare on his face to the look Kat had given me and for a split second, I saw red.

"You want more? Bring it," he said and got in a defensive stance.

At first, I tried to rein in my temper. It was always important to try to keep a level head before. Kat had always said that my temper did more harm than good. If I kept a level head, I'd be so much more productive. Some restraint was a good thing. But what did she know?

Then, it hit me. Like some sort of divine inspiration. I was the deadliest virus ever made. I could kill cells in seconds and I'd already killed more humans than any singular virus. I'd already managed to kill so many bacteria on my own in just a few hours.

Restraint was overrated.

I took a few deep breaths and let my claw heat up. There was literal steam coming from the appendage as I clenched and unclenched my hands. With a loud shout of frustration, I struck the pavement with my claw and let my viral essence spread out around me. The ground cracked, hissed, bubbled and popped and the bacteria started shouting out in confusion. I could feel the temperature around me start to rise and nearly chuckled. The boss in front of me was too distracted by the bright red ooze bubbling up around him to see me coming.

With a low growl, I tackled him to the ground and proceeded to punch his face with as much force as I could. I felt the membrane on his face give way as cytoplasm started to leak from his mouth, nose, cheeks… At one point, my own fingers felt slick with his cytoplasm coating them. At first, he tried to push me off him or even land a hit in. but after several blows, I couldn't feel him trying to push me away anymore and I slowed to a stop. His head was lolled to the side, his membrane was leaking so much cytoplasm all over the pavement that I doubted he'd be getting up any time soon… Or at all really.

I hadn't even fully processed the fact that I'd just killed this cat with my bare hands when the sound of a gunshot went off just as I felt pain bloom in my chest. I fell backwards off the dying bacteria and felt my head collide harshly with the pavement. I was breathing too hard, and spots were dancing in front of my eyes. My chest was throbbing and felt like it was on fire. I reached up to feel my chest and flinched at how wet my sweater was becoming.

"Is-is he dead?" I heard someone call out in a shaky voice. I wanted to curse but I couldn't get any sound out or any air in. I heard someone shuffle over to me slowly. Lucky for me, whoever had hit me was a piss poor shot.

Just as I saw the cell's mug enter my line of sight, I used what energy I had left I quickly rise up and slash at his throat with my claw. As smoothly as I could, I caught his falling body in my arms and used the dying cell's body as a shield as I pushed up from the ground. Immediately, I heard the sounds of more gunshots as they started firing rounds into the cell I was using as a meat shield. Even more cytoplasm was starting to drench my chest and face and I nearly stumbled from the recoil. The pain in my chest was begging for me to rest but I ignored it long enough to pull my own gun out of my coat. His body was dissolving in my hands, so I quickly took aim at the cells still standing around. With deadly accuracy, I put a bullet in each of their heads or chests and watched them fall. I had kept shooting even after I heard the gun click to let me know that it was out of ammo.

I coughed roughly as I looked around. I was standing at an uncomfortable angle, my clothes were drenched in cytoplasm, two of the cars had caught the worst of my attack on the pavement and were doing a combination of burning and melting, and every other cell was laying in pools of cytoplasm around me. I wanted to be mad at the guy who'd managed to land a hit on me (even though it wasn't anywhere close to where I'm sure he was aiming), but I couldn't. I felt almost numb to the sights around me.

I tossed the gun to the side before hobbling over to the only car left. Roughly, I slid into the driver's seat, turned on the ignition and did my best to ignore the pain in my chest as I drove away from the scene.

~:~

The good thing about dealing with the scummiest parts of a body is that the cells that lived there were pretty accustomed to seeing all types of crazy spit. So, when I barely managed to park the car in the parking lot of the nearest convenience store and practically fell out of the driver's side, the homeless cell sitting outside the store with a brown paper bag at his feet didn't spare me more than a glance. I stumbled into the store with a hand keeping pressure on the side of my chest where the bullet had grazed me. The store owner sneered at me before calling out, "Don't make a mess in my store."

I ignored him and went straight for the first aid supplies. When I found them, I slipped out of my coat and sweater and got to work. I didn't have the patience to tend to my injuries carefully like Kat had done for me in the past. Once I made sure that there wasn't any parts of the bullet still lodged in me, I cleaned up the area and tried to slow the leaking. I was so busy cursing up a storm and I pulling out some gauze, I hadn't heard the clerk walk into the aisle.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" the clerk shouted when he spotted me. He didn't wait for a response and quickly ran back to the front of the store. I rolled my eyes. Just perfect.

I grabbed some more gauze and bandages, picked up my clothes and headed for the exit. When I got there, I heard the sound of a gun getting cocked. I froze in place and watched the middle-aged clerk glare at me from the other end of a shotgun. "Now you just put down what you've taken, hand over the money for what you used and maybe I won't put a bullet through your skull, boy," he threatened.

I could already feel a migraine coming on. With a deep sigh, I held up my hands with the medical supplies and slowly moved towards the counter. I let him see that I was putting the stuff on the counter slowly. "Relax, man. I was gonna pay. I was in just a little bit of a hurry," I said.

"I don't give a spit what you think you were doing. Hand over the money you owe me and get the hell outta my st-!"

Before he could finish, I ducked out of the way of the gun, grabbed the barrel and pushed it backwards into the clerk's face. He cursed loudly and I pulled the gun from his hands when his grip loosened. I stepped back and turned the gun on him. His eyes went wide and he moved his hands from where they were cradling his leaking nose to hold the up in a nonthreatening way. "Empty the register and put everything in the bag and maybe I won't put a bullet through your skull, boy," I repeated.

"N-now…now, wait a minute," he started as he opened the register. "Y-you don't want to do this. You're gonna be in a world of trouble if you do."

"I don't give a spit about Immunity," I scoffed.

"Not them. The Pneumonia family won't like it that you're starting spit on their turf," he warned and put the gauze and bandages in the bag. He tossed the bag over the counter and put his hands back up in the air.

"The Pneumonia family flew the coop. I was just a little too hot for them," I said and chuckled. The clerk's eyes widened slowly when he was finally starting to realize exactly who he was talking to. He wanted to say something else, but my trigger finger was faster. I watched his body slam into the wall behind him before he slid down and slumped over. With a soft sigh, I grabbed the bag, redressed and turned to go.

With the shotgun slung over my shoulder, I stepped outside and reached into my coat for my shades. Surprisingly, the homeless guy was still here, but now he was watching me with wide eyes and his brown paper bag shaking in his hands. I slipped my shades on and started humming lightly to myself. I supposed I must have looked like a real sight- covered in cytoplasm, injured, with a shotgun and a plastic bag of money and first aid supplies. Must have looked like death on two legs.

But I just felt amazing.