-Doc- Self-Repair

I’ve just gotten off the phone with August, but I would like to post the full story here so everyone else knows Im going to be okay too. My head’s foggy, I havn't slept in over a day, and I’m having ttrouble typing, but I’l be better by morning.

So Boss kicked me out of the house so I could deliver to this guy. I wouldn’ thave expected Wyoming to be this exciting. I parke my car about three miles from the drop point, snuck through the woods for awhile, but foun that I had to take a more open route for the remainedrd of the trip. I heard rustling in the bushes, whipped around in time to see this extremely pale, skinny man tackle me to the ground, smacking me across my face for good measure before grabbing my satchel and bolting. Cracked glasses be damned (nothing too unusual, I need a new pair after nearly every delivery), I leapt up, pulled out my knife, and pursued him. He barely made it ten yards before I stabbed him in the back, about two inches medial to the glenohumeral joint. I felt the knife hit and scrape the scapula slightly, and he gave a good scream and dropped the satchel. While he was busy whimpering, I pulled a syringe from my pocket and stuck him with it. He groaned a bit and hit the ground like a sack of lead, so I took my bag back, re-adjusted my glasses, and continued on my way.

Not five minutes later, I heard more rustling. Luckily for me, I hadn’t actually put my knife away (which was still dripping with the first man’s blood), so I was able to jab this new guy, a tanned blonde man wearing a blak domino mask and a trenchcoat like a fucking flasher, in the side when he made a leap for me with a knife of his own. He dropped it painfully, then started spouting some nonsense about how he’s on a crusade, and how I’m supplying the enemy…I didn’t feel like sticking around to listen to it, so I tried to lunge for his neck with another syringe in my left hand. This was my biggest mistake: I hardly saw the gun before I heard the deafening BANG, then felt the hot slug burrow into left arm, about half an inch superior to the trochlea. I cried ou, dropping the syringe, but luckily for me, we weren’t alone. As he was going in for another shot, the skinny guy came out of nowhere and punched him. I don’t know how he was standing, I gave him enough tranquilizers to put out an elephant. But Blondie just turned his gun on the skinnyguy, catching him in the leg. He staggered a bit and screamed, and I was about to turn adn run, but I once again found myself in the gun’s sights. But I didn’t feel like puling two bullets out of myself tonight, so I stabbed him in the chest About three times, if I remember: my mind was fogging, filling with pain and adrenaline. Sufficiently covered in the blood of three people and hearing two sets of sirens, I decided to hotfoot it out of there. I have no idea what happened to those two, but I imagine the skinny guy is having a wondreful nap in a jail cell right about now and Blondie’s watching the dragon burn so he can forget about the holes in his cesht.

I finally made it to the drop point. Ridley was waiting there impatiently, and I pulled the package out and handed it to him. I was still bleeding, and I ended up leaving a bloody handprint on the package,. He didn’t seem to mind, however, and he just asked what had happned. I could feel the first stages of shock setting in, and I tlkaed fast. Probably gave more details than I had to, but he seemed fascinated. Offerd to takeem back to his “place,” but I wasn’t interested. I belive I said something along the lines of, “I hate to cut our little meeting short, but I need to pull this bullet out of my arm before I faint from shock. Good night, sir,” before taking my leave. The trip back to the car was a blur. I changed my shirt and stopped the bleeding as best as I could, found a shady motel and got a room. Seven missed calls from August. Shit. I pulled the bullet out, shot up sme morphine, took a shower and made myself comfortable, clalled him back. Hew as in tearswhen I told him what happened. Then I logged on to make this post.

I don’t feel well, but I’m going to livr. Good night, Internet.