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The Triple-U Squad (youngsters:mystery, 1465 words)
Author: K ArenAdded: Sep 27 2003Views/Reads: 3971/1894Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
After a scientist and his lab partner manage to escape from prison, they gather up a team of six teenagers to help them plot revenge on the person who sent them to prison. In return, they're given mysterious powers to aid them. But soon things get complic
 



Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Brett Layer stood closer to him and began to examine him closely. 
McCole nearly snorted himself. So much for ‘very dangerous criminals'. 
“Now this is your last chance,” Macintosh continued, sounding like a 
tough guy. “Any last words you may have, which might change Chief 
McCole's intentions of having you all hanged, you may say now. Or we 
can just hang you all now and get this all over with.” 

McCole, Macintosh and Brett waited. There was silence. McCole hated
silence. It was too ... quiet. So he cleared his throat just for fun 
... the same way Brett would do it. Brett ‘Lazy' Layer took a 
suspicious sideway glance at him. 

Two minutes passed and still no one spoke up. Macintosh decided it was
time and was about to raise his hand when the third prisoner shouted, 
“Wait!” and dropped onto his knees on the floor. 

“Please,” he said. “You have to let me go.” 

McCole approached him, looking down at him with his face wrinkled, as if
he were looking down at a pile of wet dog poo. “And why should I?” 

“Because,” the man said, “I have a wife ... and three kids. You can't
kill me! My wife! What'll she do?” 

“While you were here in prison,” McCole said, “what did your wife do?”
The man thought. “She worked.” 

“Well then,” said McCole. “Let her go on working. Women should learn to
make themselves useful anyway.” He turned to go. 

“PLEASE!” the man cried, grabbing McCole's pants in an attempt to pull
him back. Wrong move. 

“Eeek!” shouted McCole. “Let go of my pants you stinky lump o' ...
shit!” McCole pulled his leg back, but the man held on, and the pant 
leg ripped, revealing McCole's sexy hairy legs. The prisoner sank his 
teeth into McCole's leg and he screamed. 

“EEEK!” Brett squealed like a woman, dropping his clipboard and stuffing
both fists into his mouth to stop his cry. He nearly fainted at the 
sight. 

Macintosh stared. 

“YOU FILTHY POO-RAG!” McCole shouted. “GUARDS! GUARDS!” The guards all
came charging. The third prisoner jumped up and shouted, “RUN FOR YOUR 
LIVES!” 

Four of the prisoners ran, stumbling over their chained feet and one of
them was caught by a guard. The other three were acting like football 
players, tackling the guards and butting them with their heads. The 
whole thing had taken the guards by surprise and the shock was their 
weak spot. It weakened them and the prisoners took that advantage. But 
they didn't go far. More guards appeared, blocking the entrance and 
they eventually allowed themselves to be captured again. 

The third prisoner and the one remaining, stood in the middle of it all,
back to back. McCole glanced down at his leg. Blood was oozing out of 
the spot where that stupid, evil cannibal had bitten him. Roaring 
angrily he stomped towards him and his partner, fists clenched tight 
and eyebrows down so low the ends nearly reached the tip of his nose. 
“You troublemaker ... you pant ripper ... you cannibal, you! You're 
gonna get it!” 

The third prisoner and his friend muttered to each other and then they
both nodded. The cannibal had a dangerous gleam in his eyes, but McCole 
didn't care. He lunged towards him and all of a sudden he felt himself 
flying backwards ... incredible pain in his chest where a powerful 
force had hit him. And then he fell on someone. He fell on Brett, he 
knew. He recognized the ‘oof'. 

McCole painfully tried to get off Brett. He was a large man and Brett,
being as skinny as he was, would've probably had turned into a human 
pancake had McCole not tried to move. His leg was unbearably painful 
now. He looked at it. There were two holes with blood oozing from them. 


Odd. This guy probably had fangs for teeth. Still ... McCole had been
bitten many times before but he's never received a bite this painful. 
And coming from a skinny prisoner with rotten teeth? Ew. It must be 
infected. 

McCole looked up at his attacker and wondered how he could've pushed him
back so hard. He looked so skinny ... so weak. Well at least he did ... 
before that prisoner sank his yellow teeth in. Now he looked different 
... he looked tougher ... he looked meaner ... and that dangerous gleam 
in his eyes ... 

“Omigod, omigod, omigod,” Brett chanted next to McCole. 

“Shut up, Brett!” McCole snapped. 

“Omigod, omigod, omigod ...” 

McCole turned to face Brett and probably give him a whack for being such
a sissy. But when he looked, Brett's eyes were large (even larger 
through those silly glasses of his) and there was terror written all 
over his face. His mouth was open in a silent scream. 

McCole glanced back at the prisoners, but all he saw was a blur of brown
... all he felt was the increasing pain on his leg and a new pain on 
his arm ... all McCole heard was the roaring of some animal drowned by 
that Brett Layer's screams. 

And that's when everything went black. 


   


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