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Alex Mercer just sorta dropped outta the sky like my smile when I remembered the other story I have on here. Blackwatch dudes looked at him and pointed their shooty sticks his way, while Alex Mercer stood there dramatically, limbering himself up for a good ol' beatdown. One of the Blackwatch fellers made what could be interpreted as a rude gesture of pumping a fist up and down. Triggers were pulled, muzzles flared and bullets flew. A few minutes later, somebody yelled "HOSTILE SIGHTED, OPEN UP."

The sound of a record scratching was heard throughout the battlefield.

"Woah hey guys, it's me, Alex Mercer. You're probably wondering how I got into all of this. It's a bit of a long story, you see" said Alex Mercer, before his flailing fists tore through the group of highly trained professionals who stood waiting for him to punch them to death.

One violent episode later, Alex Mercer did a big jump on to a rooftop, hunched down, and started his monologue. "They took everything from me" he grumbled, gazing down at a marine slippin' and slidin' around like a ragdoll while being eaten by two bald men wearing torn clothes. "They're responsible." His view shifted to Blackwatch soldiers gunning down civilians and bald men wearing torn clothes alike.

Groaning with discomfort as the Play-Doh™ overcame him once more, Alex Mercer finished with a "and they'll pay!" The electric bill having apparently been taken care of, Alex Mercer was intent on getting gas and water out of the way too. Using his new big ol' claws he set to work hackin' and whackin' away at whatever meatbags wandered into his path, Wolverine™ copyright™ lawyers™ included. Sometimes he would also ride people like skateboards.

After wiping out all of the guys with little red skulls over their heads, Alex Mercer's arms changed once again into big ol' hands the size of his entire torso. An attempt at picking his nose resulted in disaster. Tanks were split in two, and Alex Mercer was juggled around for a while by two rocket launchers working in perfect unison.

BUT THEN BIG BALD BODY BUILDERS CAME TO TOWN. With their romantic advances rejected by the popcorn headed ladies in torn clothing, the bald guys wearing torn clothing had eaten both their creatine™ and ovaltine™, gone to their gyms and become too swole to control. Now their torn clothing did not fit, and instead of being laughed at for being bald and scrawny, they were laughed at for being bald with weird goopy pink skin and teeny tiny uh eyes which were as small as their collective IQs. Presently, their juicing budget had gone towards keeping dramatic fade-to-black transitions from occurring, and they were capital-p Pissed.

Alex Mercer's arms changed again, one back into a regular Alex Mercer arm and the other into a big ol' sword which he used to handily chop the big bald guys into smaller pieces of big bald guys until a blue arrow appeared over the head of some unfortunate Blackwatch commander.

Alex Mercer carved a bloody path on over to said commander, knocked him down and slapped him around. Once the meat was properly beaten, Alex Mercer had tentancles pop out, and the commander was eaten. "Time to end this" he said without missing a beat. Having had quite the treat, Alex Mercer got off his seat and sent out more tentacles down each street, causing a pause to the drumbeat. Everything and everyone was made uncreate, leaving Times Square rather neat save for the crumbling concrete. Alex Mercer's actions repeat as he strikes a dramatic pose, the kinetic theory of heat combined with the sun's heat to make him smell faintly of a mix of rose, Japanese bittersweet, western honey mesquite and basidiomycete and ensured that nowhere in the New York-ish area would there be any sleet. Yeet.

The unceasingly ravenous electric bill is barely paid in time, allowing Alex Mercer to do a very difficult drop into a rooftop scene during a black-out into a white-in. He does that dramatic standing around thing again, only for ANOTHER blackout. A return to form features Alex Mercer's jeans, while some guy says "we have less than an hour. What's next?" as he walks back and forth in front of Alex Mercer and Alex Mercer's jeans.

"The last person responsible for all of this," Alex Mercer says, pausing because he cannot talk and blink at the same time, "dies tonight." He watches a pair of helicopters engage in a courtship ritual as they bomb the fuck out of some civilians.

"If we make it out of here. Do you think you're ready?" asks some guy.

Averting his innocent eyes from the helicopters as they begin to make new, smaller helicopters, Alex Mercer turns towards some guy, his visage one of a stony stoic who has been informed of what happened with Prototype 2™. "I was made for this" he scowls.

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[PROTOTYPE]™

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