Number Ten: Death by Plague
Now there was nowhere left for Scott to hide. There was nowhere to run to, nowhere that was safe. They’d get him wherever he went... he had to get help. Perhaps he could go out, commit a crime, and then they’d lock him up where he’d be safe. Well, no, Kitty and Kurt could definitely still get him, but he might be safer in jail than anywhere else. So, Scott strolled out into the street. There he was, about to steal a gun off someone so that he could start randomly shooting at people (probably missing, I mean, he only wanted to go to jail, not kill people) and then hopefully get caught, admit to all the crimes, and get banged up, hopefully for a long, long time. Well, he was about to do all this when he sneezed loudly. And again.
“I *sniff* hope I haven’t got a horrible disease,” Scott said out loud to himself. He stared at his arm. Unbelievable. He was coming up in hundreds of boils and... “It’s the plague,” Scott whispered. He stared at his skin for a moment, before he started to feel weird, and everything went black, and then he collapsed on the floor, dead once more (oops, that rhymed).
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