Stab

Pressure Point 63
June 9, 2003
Starring Sharc and The Thief

"What happened?!" Sharc asked breathlessly as he found The Thief, his guest and friend, flat on his back, being tended to by medics. His white T-shirt covered in blood. Thief was just laying there, staring up at the lights, blankly. It actually took Sharc longer to say something. He had been shocked into silence for several seconds. The site of the blood stains on the floor, the blood red on one of his favorite wrestlers. And it wasn't from wrestling.

The Thief had been stabbed just above the ribs, just below the heart.

"Who did this?"

Thief came out of his daze for a moment and looked at Sharc.

"How bad is it?" he asked softly.

"You've done worse to yourself in rings," Sharc said, trying to be reassuring, but not really knowing what to say. "You'll be OK. Did you see who, got you?"

"No. I was coming back from the, machine, and got attacked from behind. I don't know who it was. My head hit the wall and the floor pretty hard, man."

"I have no doubt who did this," Sharc said with a snarl, as more people poured into the hallway to load The Thief onto a gurney and get him to a hospital.

That wound could have only been done by one person. The one person who sliced Sharc open weeks ago with a knife.

"That motherfucker is going to pay," Sharc said to nobody in particular.

NEXT CHAPTER: Revenge >>