Flamingo'd: Filthy Frankx Reader

Chapter Twenty Four Great Balls Of Fire

     You ducked behind the assorted cheap-ass toys, narrowly dodging the projectile that flew towards you.

    " It's because of you that Frank hasn't called me back!" the Lycra yelled, making a marshmallow appear in his hand, stuffing it a marshmallow cannon, then lighting the said treat on fire to aim it towards you. You were crouched behind the shelves, looking for a way out. There was no way you could get to the door without him landing a hit on you. Then again, how much would a marshmellow hurt? I mean, yeah it's fire. You looked around you, and saw the three shots he made had done quite a bit of damage, so there was only one option.

You shot up holding a toy gun that looked somewhat real. And you dod something you swore you would never do again.

You said a meme.

"What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Chef Meme Army and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Iowa, and I have over 300 confirmed kills, humans, memes, and Lycras alike. I am trained in meme warfare and I'm the top meme machine in the entire Narobi-desert armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this Multiverse, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over that flaming marshmallow cannon? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am have contacted my secret network of memes across the dimensions and our location is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, faggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my memes. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Memes and chef movies, and I will use them to their full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy meme your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit memes all over you and you will drown in them. You're fucking dead, kiddo."

    This took the Lycra aback for a second, giving you a chance to get the hell out of here. But then he screamed, pulling the trigger, a flaming marshmallow flying at you. You yelped and moved out of the way, but the marshmallow still managed to hit your shoulder. You let our a blood-curdling sound as the burnt sugar began to sear onto you, you felt as it burnt off the Lycra skin, and still tortured the newly exposed, sensitive skin. You tried wiping the stuff off, it burned your hand, but got the majority of it off. You continues to make a break for the exit, but having your back turned, he shot another one at, hitting you square in the back. You made an excruciating squeaking noise as the your flesh burned. You fell to the ground, but you continued to crawl your way to the exit. A single tear ran down you face as the hopelessness began to cascade in your mind.

You could hear the Lycra make his way to you. You felt a foot come down on you. Knocking the wind out of you, allowing you only to be able to lay on the ground and squirm as you gasped for air. He shot yet another marshmallow on your back, burning more Lycra skin off, you clenched your teeth, trying to fight the white-hot pain.(puh-dum-tish).

"Huh, I never thought Frank you settle for a little twink," proclaimed the Lycra, why did he insist on saying everything so loudly, that was rude. You growled and brought yourself up, making the Lycra lose balance, giving yourself the opportunity to land a few blows. This wasn't the movies, so you aimed for the throat and groin. You manage to hit him square in the neck, but he shot another marshmallow at you, searing your abdomen. You crouched over trying to get the stuff off you as it made yet another hole in your Lycra skin. Before you could get up however, you felt a foot make contact to your chest, sending you back as you heard and audible pop. Before you could let out another sound in pain, the cannon was being pressed against your head, the heat of the flaming marshmallow inside beating against you.

"Any last words ya faggot?" He asked, a stupid grin stitching his face.

"Yeah," you said, deciding to make this count," Frank makes the cutest sound when his neck is licked, doesn't he?" You closed your eyes preparing for the impact, but it didn't come. You opened your eyes to see Julie picking the Lycra guy up by the waist and throwing him to the ground, despite the serious size difference. She immediately covered him, getting his arm and head into a lock, spinning him, and using her legs to get him into a position where he was on his shoulders, the rest of his body suspended in the air. He kicked and wriggled, trying to get loose. But T.j. locked her hands, determination taking form in her face becoming and interesting color. After a minute of struggling, Julie was able to keep him in this position long enough to cut off the Lycra's  air supply, incapacitating him. She got up from the ground, drenched in sweat, panting.

" And why is it... Whenever I see an explosion... Or people fleeing...in a public building..it's you?"