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Dec 11, 2018 12:43 PM
z becomes the universal organ donor
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He hates this part.

He works out on the street when he's not getting shows, and it's not all bad. Hell, sometimes it's even fun. It's not like he has to worry about some guy breaking his arm or putting a bullet in him – well, he does, but he doesn't have to worry about it lasting.

The thing that actually gets to him is that some guys just won't take no for an answer.

The one who's hassling him now (big guy, usually he can use his height in situations like this but not this time) was a nightmare last time. Zero personal hygiene was bad enough already and combining that with some of the kinks he sprang on him last minute was way more than he was willing to handle, but somehow the guy thinks he's entitled to a second round. He's kind of losing his temper.

"Did I not tell you fifty fucking times already–"

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And there's the brick wall. Hi, brick wall, meet forehead. Didn't expect you two to get acquainted so soon. 

His head spins and he feels himself be lifted off his feet, and he's resigning himself already to whatever's about to happen, wherever he's about to be taken. Nobody's coming after him here.

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Wrong.

The silhouette of a woman appears at the end of the alley.

"You're going to put him down, now," she says in a voice that brooks no arguments, like an elementary school teacher who knows exactly what you did.

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He feels himself swing around as the man turns. His head knocks into the wall again. Ow.

"None of your business what I do," says the man gruffly.

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"You're committing assault. And attempted rape, unless I'm badly mistaken. Would you rather I make it the police's business?"

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The man growls, pauses for a second, then drops his leather-clad cargo (who lands in a heap) and leaves the alley at a good clip.

It only takes a few seconds before he sits up and groans, wiping a little trickle of blood off his forehead.

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She walks over and kneels down beside him.

"Are you okay?"

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"Yeah, I, uh..."

He squints up at her face.

"...have we met before, or something? I don't think I know you."

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"...Not as far as I know?"

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"Huh."

He scoots back against the wall to lean against it.

"Why'd you help me out?"

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"Because...you were being...assaulted?"

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"Yeah, well, when you put it like that..."

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"Mhm. Need any medical attention?"

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"Nah, I'm a weirdo."

He holds out his hand.

"I'm Z. You?"

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"Edie!" She shakes his hand. "Does being a weirdo make you immune to concussions?"

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"My special kind of being a weirdo makes concussions last, like, half an hour at most."

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"Ooh. Regen factor?"

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"Factor 4 and proud."

He stands up, a little wobbly.

"So, what brings you out here to talk to prostitutes, anyway?"

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"Running errands, took a shortcut."

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"Glad you did. I hate that guy."

He reaches out a hand to help her up.

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She gets up. "Is he liable to bother you again?"

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Shrug.

"Not sure. He only just started hanging around here. You might've scared him off."

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"I hope so."

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He nods.

"...You didn't get all jumpy when I gave you my number. You high-factor too?"

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"My sister is!"

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"Oh, nice. Tell her hi from the dude you saved in an alley."

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