2 Weak

Patrice was weak.

He knew it, both of his parents knew it and all of his friends would swear to you that they'd rather chew their arms off than be chained to him in a life or death scenario.

The only thing he had going for him was his absurdly high endurance.

In short, he could get his ass kicked for extremely long periods. It didn't matter if you smashed him down with one punch, then unloaded a flurry of your best rendition of Ora! Ora! Ora! . He would get up eventually and flail his spindly arms at you. This was one of the few oddities about Patrice. Despite being 5ft 5 inches tall, weighing just under 30kg and looking like he'd keel over at any moment, he could absorb a great amount of damage and still muster up enough energy to wildly swing at all attackers.

Its a shame he didn't seem able to inflict any damage what so ever on his attackers.

Perhaps owing to his size, he was not able to generate any real force with his any of his attacks. His attackers could swear that each hit felt like being gently caressed by a dried piece of salami.

But his parents and friends would swear back…fuck you….what salami? your mother!

Patrice…this gentle soul, he must be under a curse right?, surely! For years they had witnessed flailing arms which seemed to carry some whip. However oddly enough, all the force would magically vanish when his palm or fist touched his opponent. Resulting in his hands just gently brushing across their faces. Logic would obviously force one turn to martial arts or even gun play to help secure your safety.

This is where the third and final oddity reared it's ugly head.

Patrice was simply unable to properly learn any martial art. His brain was bursting full with the theoretical knowledge, however it never translated well into practice. Attempting to use an opponents force to throw or unbalance them, would result in poor Patrice becoming crushed under their weight. Bullets would also simply miss the opponent when he shot at them.

Surely this MUST be a curse, right? Our Patrice must be cursed…right?

Perhaps now one may understand why they wouldn't want to be chained with him…not only would they die, they would probably be subjected to the scene of their precious Patrice being beaten and eventually killed.

Being aware of the shared understanding between himself, his parents, his friends and even his attackers of his limited capabilities, Patrice stared down at the supplies in his hands and then across at the three men standing in front of him.

'Why the fuck did I go out alone?' he thought bitterly.

'I shouldn't have given in to their provocations…haaahhh…I guess it's too late to be regretting things now…maybe these nice fellows will leave me with a loaf of bread'…'nah I doubt it…look at the baldy in the middle and scar face on the left, they are probably gangsters…aww gross, is he spitting on the floor? Yup they're definitely gangsters!'

"OI SLENDERMAN!! ARE YOU DONE WITH YOUR INNER MONOLOGUE?!?" the man standing in the middle of the three shouted impatiently, an inexplicable feeling of anger had risen up inside him at the look of…was that disgust?… their prey was giving them. "I'm not going to ask you again" he added as his clenched fists began to take on an iridescent red hue, white steam slowly swirling around them "Hand the bag over and walk away, I don't want to waste my ki beating up a twig"

'Oh wow, just my luck…a body refiner…and at the third stage too…maybe I can trick them and make a run for it' Patrice thought as his eyes darted from side to side trying to find an escape route.

"Don't get any funny ideas" a voice whispered quietly behind Patrice as a soft breeze blew gently across his face. 'When did he-' BANG!! Before he could look around, a fist slammed into his face and he was thrown across the abandoned pharmacy, slamming heavily into the counter and sliding down slowly. Despite this, his arms remained tightly wrapped around the supplies tied to his body.

His vision blurry, Patrice looked up and was greeted by the sight of an ugly glowing red foot 'come on dude, cut your to-' BWAK!! BANG! CRUNCH! His head was kicked three times in quick succession as it finally caved into the wooden counter.

"Holy shit bro, you killed him!!" The man who had been standing behind Patrice exclaimed in shock.

"He shouldn't have been talking shit" the bald man said while cracking his neck.

'But he didn't say anything….R.I.P slender-bro' the man could only sigh quietly as he slowly walked towards the recent victim of his friend's temper.

The man's brows however furrowed as he neared the youth with his head buried inside the counter. 'How is he still holding onto the supplies so tightly?'.

"Oh ho! I guess he had some cujones on him" a man with a long scar stretching from ear to ear said as he took a squat in front of the corpse. "Even in death, he's holding on to the bag so tightly…this must be good stuff" he added as he reached over to unravel the ties.

"Get your filthy hands off my shit" a weak voice groaned from within the caved-in counter.

'Impossible' all three men thought in unison. However perhaps the one most shocked by the outcome was the bald man who was still stretching and cracking his joints. 'I didn't hold back on a single one of those attacks' he thought, fully aware that each strike of his carried nearly three tons of force 'don't tell me I offended a secret master!'

"Fuck" he said as he stumbled away from the body which was now twisting and turning in an effort to free itself from the hole. All three men backed away from the counter as they exchanged nervous glances.

"You kick like a little bitch, you cu-" Patrice begun to say as he finally freed himself from the hole. However he stopped himself as he noticed the panicked looks the three were giving him. 'What's wrong with these idiots? Did they decide to turn over a new leaf? Why do they keep backing up?'.