Part 1: Thy Drugs Are Quick

From the Story Arc: O True Apothecary

Next Story in the Arc: Part 2: Thus with a Kiss by Krasniy Oktyabr (Wednesday, January 25, 2006)

(posted Wednesday, January 25, 2006)

Krasniy Oktyabr picked the Freakshow up off the floor and slammed him against the office wall. The weakened plaster was no match for the sharp metal spikes sticking out of his back and gave way, literally pinning him to the wall.

"Perhaps you are not taking me seriously," said the Russian through gritted teeth, "You have information, and you will give it to me."

The Freakshow slammer giggled like a madman and replied, "Ain't got nothin' for ya, man! All I gots is the juice! You gots the gear, man. Maybe you need the juice too, huh?"

Krasniy's only response was clenching his cybernetic hand into a fist and driving it into the Freak's stomach. The slammer's giggling turned to a groan and he slumped forward, eyes bulging out in pain. Krasniy snorted and let go, leaving the Freak hanging.

There probably wasn't anything he could get out of this Freak, but all the others that had invaded this office had been rendered unconscious, already. If this punk didn't have any information about the missing cop he was looking for, Krasniy Oktyabr would just have to continue his search elsewhere.

The slammer took a deep breath and Krasniy stared at the device that whirred into life on the Freakshow's arm. Or rather, the fluorescent green liquid gurgling through the tube leading from it. With renewed vigor the slammer swung his sledgehammer fist, catching the Russian cyborg on the chin and sending him flying back. Krasniy tumbled back and rolled up onto his feet, charging up his electric gauntlets with a flick of the wrists. His right shoulder was burning in pain, but it would have to wait until the Freak was down for the count.

"So, you would sidet' ne igle 1 , eh?" growled Krasniy, loosing a charged bolt of electricity at the Freak, "What is poison of choice?"

The slammer took the full brunt of the blast with barely a flicker of response. He removed a circular saw blade from his belt and flung it at Krasniy. Krasniy jerked his head away and the blade missed by inches. Krasniy Oktyabr stood up and prepared a more powerful bolt of lightning.

The Freakshow laughed and answered, "It's the JUICE, man! Excelsior!"

"Maybe he'd like a little taste!" said a voice from behind Krasniy.

The Russian cyborg spun around and his eye went wide. The Freakshow "tank" that he knew for a fact he has blasted into a coma was now towering above him once more, apparently unscathed. Before Krasniy Oktyabr could even raise a fist, the tank swung his massive metal arm and threw Krasniy against the wall where the slammer had been moments before. With the wind knocked out of him, Krasniy couldn’t get out of the way of the tank's claw pinning him against the wall.

The tank grinned ferociously and said, "Give him all the juice you've got, Stank. We'll get you some more."

The slammer giggled again and walked over to the mechanical arm Krasniy Oktyabr bore. He pulled the clear tube from his arm and at the same time, yanked out the tube connecting the cybernetic limb to Krasniy's nervous system. The Russian screamed in pain unlike any he had encountered in his life. Blood steadily seeped from the wound. The slammer unceremoniously rammed the Excelsior feeding tube into the socket and turned on the pump.

Krasniy Oktyabr sweated from every pore, fighting back the urges to slip into unconsciousness and scream for all he was worth. Neither was successful. The sounds of the two Freakshow bellowing with laughter was the last thing he heard.



Krasniy stumbled out of the office building and onto the terrace, squinting at the bright sun sinking over the War Wall. He took a few more wary steps, unsure of whether he could stay upright. His legs held, but the fuzziness in his head remained.

I'm going to rip apart every Freakshow I can get my hands on! raged Krasniy, holding his head, Nyet, must get to medic, get this "Excelsior" pumped from system..."Well, well, what have we here?" asked a voice nearby, "Some poor sod that wants a taste of the Freak life?" Krasniy looked up to see a group of Warriors breaking off their sparring practice to stare at the cyborg. Krasniy squinted at the Warriors, shaking his head. The colors seemed to be bleeding away from everything. These gangers were nothing but shades of gray.

Another of the Warriors raised an eyebrow and said, "I dunno, he doesn't look like one of those Operation Ivy rejects."

"Ah, it doesn't matter," replied the first Warrior, "Freakshow, hero, it makes no difference. Show him your training, gentlemen!"

...after I take care of this scum! thought Krasniy with a feral grin.

The Warriors charged in, and Krasniy Oktyabr thrust out his arms. The air around the cyborg exploded in a ball of electric fury and the Warriors dropped their weapons, writhing in agony. A few more bolts, and the gangers were sprawled around him, groaning and smoking. Krasniy let out a whoop of delight. The pain is his shoulder was gone, the enemy defeated soundly, and he felt as if he could win the Struggle of the Proletariat single-handedly. Krasniy Oktyabr had never felt so good!

Krasniy shook his head and thought, Nyet, nyet! Is drug talking! I must see one of my comrade medics...

Krasniy whipped his head up, hearing a cry in the distance. He could just make out a pair of Tsoo gangsters accosting a woman down the street, and grinned once more.

...after I take care of this scum! thought Krasniy again, charging forward to save the day for the poor Worker.




1 - slang, inject drugs (lit. "To sit on the needle")