Greg ran out of the room, relieved at last that class was over. It was Medieval History, an intro class which was elementary for the likes of Greg. Through the hall he zoomed, oblivious of the nearby students and teachers at first giving curious looks, then scrambling to get out of his way. The doors flew open and Greg breathed in a mouthful of fresh mountain air. It was all so perfect; the previous night of heavily flaked snowfall made the campus look like, well it made it look like a God was about to snort a blanket of cocaine off of campus. But that is not what made this field; this perfectly placed field in the middle of three campus buildings, perfect. It was the temperature. So warm was it out that Greg knew that even a few hours of sun had turned that light fluffy stuff into weapons of mass destruction. Greg wasted no time; he dropped his jacket, backpack, and binoculars and proceeded to pull out his MEC pump up gloves from his backpack. He ran out into the middle of the field and started to make his first snowball of the season. The classes were still changing, so Greg had no trouble finding targets walking on the outskirts of the field, walking to other buildings.
Greg enjoyed lobbing the snowballs for his first four throws or so because he liked the ricochet fire it created when he got a direct hit and the fact that they couldn't see it coming. His first two shots missed, merely splashing the concrete and scuffling up some shoes but his next snowball hit a girl square on the head and the resulting splash got some snow in her friends eye, not unlike the Kennedy assassination. She went down, but there were many more. The rowing team had noticed this lone figure in the snow, this defiant rule breaker, and determined that he must conform to the laws of society, and walk the concrete.
On to the field they walked, shouting profanities and incoherent sentences like "stop throwing snowballs" and "shes unconscious!", but soon they were scrambling for cover all the same. Greg had anticipated confrontation and began his "super strider" throw, which was like a curveball except it was straight. His methods were fluid and as one, his accuracy precise. One of his striders downed a rower as he ran for cover, screaming for his teammates to help him.
By now people had began stopping their zombie-like walks to class and started looking at the action on the field. Some were amused, others were tending the wounded, but a growing number of students and faculty alike began taking steps on the field with malicious intent stapled to their eyes. Bags were thrown down, sleeves were rolled up, and within seconds the inner court yard of St. Bethany's College was filled with chaos.
Greg was amused, then soon horrified at the scene which was unfolding. Here he stood facing 100 opponents with nowhere to hide and not chance to surrender, else he be deemed a coward. Greg packed and threw furiously as the mob determinedly approached. A small few fell, but even most of those got back up leaving their fallen brethren behind. Some never fell at all, even with direct hits. Greg saw one speed ball fly past a gymnast who barely dodged and hit a brute of a man square in the face, after which he simply spit out a tooth and actually
smiled at him. Greg had been taking hit all along, but the pain was started to get to him. His whole body was getting painted with balls of vengeance. One ice ball hit him square in the head and brought him to his knees, but just as the crowd began to cheer he was back up and throwing like a maniac, laying to waste the three who were closest to him. One clipped his pelvis which turned him into another deathball which hit him square in the throat. Chocking, Greg dropped his snowballs and threw up his hands making a "T". "Timeut, ICahaannt breth" Greg said as he looked around, searching for sympathy. Their eyes remained neutral, but the snowball fury had stopped. Greg's heart was raised,
The battle is done
he thought
and what a battle it was..Greg never even saw the snowball which reignited the vengeance which was plain on everyone's face. Pain coursed through his body as he curled into the fetal position, as he was literally being buried by all the snow that was being flayed on him. A single tear ran down his face as he turned to look up at the sky, this beautiful sky which had produced the snow which was now killing him. The view was blocked by one face, than another, and soon all he could see were these people; these people who used to be his friends and colleagues. Now they looked with hate upon him. Some moved out of the way to let in the biggest women he had ever seen. She was carrying over her head a clump of snow and ice equal to at least half her body weight. As she threw it down on Him, Greg screamed.
Greg awoke to the sound of muffled voices, and a soft beeping sound. He could barely open his eyes, but he could make out a doctor speaking to a suited man. "I can't allow this to happen" the doctor was saying to the suited man, "its too risky". "Whuh whats going on? do whuu what?" Greg mumbled through swollen lips. The doctor looked startled, went over to the bed and injected something into the IV. "Sleep" he said, and Greg began to drift off to sleep again.
Something did not feel right when he woke. He felt
Cold all over his body. He felt numb, and almost nerveless.
Am i alive? is it this cold because I'm dead? Greg thought as he opened his eyes. At first he thought he was still dreaming because as he looked over his body it was all white. A large ball of snow lay where his legs used to, and a smaller snowball had replaced his mid section. He looked over at horror at the branches which now moved as his arms once had. "It was the only way to keep you alive" a man in a business suit said. Startled, Greg looked over at the man towering over him. "I don't understand" Greg stammered "how is all this possible?". "That is not something you need to concern yourself with yet" replied the man, "But right now you need to rest so we can do some more tests".
"No!" Greg screamed as he tore the machines which were connected to all over his body. He pushed the man aside and slid onto the ground. It would have been hard to move had the floor not been tile and he slid across the hospital hallways at a ferocious pace. As he got to the front entrance, the floor getting slippery behind him, he had one thing, and one thing only in mind; Vengeance.
