Unlucks, Bro

[Namira]

This was going to be a really freaking stupid way to die.

"Hour sixteen of the 'Amir's leg went through the floor' chronicles, and it's not looking good for our hero, folks."

It was dumb. It really, really was dumb.

All right so, back up a bit. Amir had come up with the real bright spark of an idea that, in this cozy Italian-style pizzeria, it was worth going upstairs and climbing onto a table to get a better vantage point. Scope out who might be on the approach, that type of dealio, cause hey, if he managed to secure this place for a while, maybe he'd even be able to find a pizza, which would be awesome... cause he was pretty hungry in honesty. Eshe's baby boy didn't get this fine figure by eating table scraps.

Which was all fine in theory, and it all checked out up until the point that his dumb ass slipped and apparently his fine figure was SO fine that his weight drove his right foot - followed by the majority of his right leg - straight through a section of floor and, so far as he could tell, leaving the limb dangling into the room below.

And that brought him to where he was now. Stuck with his leg jammed through a floor.

He couldn't feel his toes. He also really needed to take a leak. It was probably, he considered, a good thing that this hadn't been named a dangerzone.

Main problem with trying to haul himself out was that the angle was beyond awkward. His untrapped leg was splayed out to the side, making it pretty damn difficult to get underneath himself and apply pressure. Gymnast he was not, and that went a little beyond Amir's flexibility. Other problem was that every time he so much as moved, he could feel jagged splinters digging into the meat of his thigh. On those occasions he'd tried, tentatively, to pull himself loose, that had gone from 'irritating' to 'excruciating'.

"All right, well. Here's the deal. I like my leg, I've had it for a long time. We've had our differences in the past, but I consider it a prized friend," Amir knew that the cameras were on him, but this wasn't so much about them as himself, trying to psyche himself up for what he was about to do. "I've got a pretty good idea that any knight in shining armour that comes along is going to be more of the 'put a poor soul out of his misery' than 'gallant saviour' type, and honestly, I was never much for being a pretty princess in the first place."

Amir took a deep breath.

"So, here goes nothing."

Amir put both hands beneath him, bracing himself, got his other leg in as good a position as he could manage, and then pushed with all his might.

He gritted his teeth, and then he let out a yell of pain, pushing, pushing - he could feel his leg coming loose, but the hole that gripped it was ripping and tearing every step of the way, gouging him even through his jeans. He swore. Several times. He let out a stream of agonised Arabic, and then after what seemed like an eternity, with the sound of splintering wood, his leg was free.

Amir exhaled shakily, flopped down on the floor. Every inch of his leg hurt, and steeling himself, he looked down.

A quite astonishing amount of blood was seeping from his destroyed pants leg and onto the floor, the limb a bloody, gouged ruin. He could barely see an inch of skin that wasn't torn up by dragging it out of its trap.

He stared for a few seconds, already beginning to feel faint. That was- that was a hell of a lot of blood. That was 'SOTF-TV's goriest highlights' levels of fucked-up injury.

"Well that's just... unfair..."

Amir's eyes rolled back and his head hit the floor with a thunk.


HONEY BADGERS 2: AMIR AL-ASAD - DECEASED