when they still could.” Backlash roared and leapt across the remaining space between him and Balto, rolling his body to give his tail some speed. Balto put up his virus arms, ready to block the spiked weapon, but it turned out the tail was only a ruse; Backlash lowered it in midair and seized Balto’s neck with his front feet in a fearsome grip, tightening his hold until Balto choked and struggled for air. “DIE!” Backlash yelled. “DIE, YOU SCUM!” Balto had no intention of dying, and Backlash, in his anger, had forgotten that his adversary had both virus arms free, and that he himself had no way to block. Balto wound back and gave Backlash a pile driver punch to the face, sending him flying away. Balto himself flew backwards, unintentionally shoved away by Backlash right before the blow landed. The beast sprawled in the snow and slowly got to his feet, dazed. That feeling flew away rapidly, however, as he saw where he was. He walked down the new street, perpendicular to and slightly smaller than the main street.

He saw the house.

He stared. “Could it be?” he said quietly, closing his eyes, thinking deeply for a moment. An image came into his head, a small girl, excited by a present she had just received, a miniature dogsled.

“I love these runners! I love this brush bow! I love this sled!”

He smiled, turning his head and looking at the door of the house. “Oh, yes…oh, yes…” he breathed. He turned his head absently back toward the main street, having heard a noise, just in time to see a virus arm pound into his face. He screamed and flew into the air, somersaulting, hitting the snow hard and tumbling through it. Balto turned and sprinted up the front of the building next to the house that held Backlash’s interest, pushing himself off when he neared the top. Backlash came to rest on his back, looking up through eyes fuzzy with pain. Ten feet above him, Balto plummeted like a meteor, virus arms aimed for his chest. He rolled out of the way, and Balto smashed into the ground, engulfed in a white shower of snow. Backlash got back to his feet, looking at the house, and then at Balto and Jenna. He moved his gaze to Jenna’s eyes. “She caught it here, didn’t she?” he said, a mix of reverie and delight in his face. He turned and faced the door. “Now, the threat returns.” “NO!” Jenna screamed desperately. “BALTO, STOP HIM!” Balto dove between Backlash and the door, putting up his virus arms, and Backlash began spewing diphtheria bacilli from his mouth, a stream of contagion that Balto found difficult to block even with his practice on the mountain. Still, although it was difficult, he succeeded, and when he was sure Backlash wasn’t getting anywhere, he used the same trick he had before, cleansing up the stream of bacteria. When the flames reached Backlash’s mouth, there was an explosion, and he was hurled into the air. After doing an awkward midair backflip, he landed on his feet facing a wall on the opposite side of the street. He ran a step or two up the wall, and Balto did the same on his side. The two foes flew towards each other, upside down, punching each other in midair. Backlash spun around and crashed into a wall, but Balto landed safely. As the beast stood up, Balto noticed that his eyes were glowing, and suddenly Backlash charged, drawing on power gained from diphtheria bacilli inside him, making himself faster and stronger. He jumped over one of Balto’s swings and ducked under the other, grabbing Balto and tossing him up over his back. As he flew almost straight up, Balto grabbed onto a roof and stopped his flight, hurling himself downward and cannoning into Backlash, who took longer to get up this time. He coughed and spluttered, and Balto cocked his head. “What’s the matter? Need to strangle yourself to be quick?” He looked at his virus arms. “Too bad I don’t.”

Balto leapt over Backlash’s head, punching him even before he could turn around. By the time he did, Balto was ready, and they engaged in another brawl, composed almost entirely of attempted punches, but Backlash fell behind as Balto swung the virus arms in a mind-numbing blur, finally overcoming Backlash’s extra speed, smashing him in the face several times and ending with a mighty blow that knocked him into the wall. Balto came up to him, grabbed him, and went to punch again, but the advance form was just fast enough to dodge this one. Without hesitation, he yelled and twisted his body, kicking Balto with both of his hind legs, sending him crashing into a pile of boards across the street. The monster walked up to him and grabbed him, raising his spiked tail for a killing blow. “Not terribly much of a fight for Ebola, eh?” he said. He tilted his tail back, and suddenly, pain shot through it. He screamed as Jenna, who was biting onto the very end of the tail so she wouldn’t be hit by the spikes, hauled him backward. “No, Jenna!” Balto shouted quickly. “Let him go! Let him go!” Backlash looked back at Jenna and shook his head. “He’s right. That’s a no-no.” Flexing his tail muscles, he yanked Jenna towards him and kicked her away, sending her slamming into a brick wall, and she fell to the snow, stunned. Balto screamed in fury, throwing a punch at Backlash. The beast blocked it with one foot and punched Balto in the face, knocking his head against the beams. He picked up a board and smashed Balto in the face with it so hard the wood shattered, finishing the battle with a straight punch to the nose, nearly knocking Balto unconscious. Backlash looked back and forth at the pair, breathing rapidly and clutching his throat, gagging, recovering after a few seconds. He smiled, looking back at the house. “This will be a far better revenge,” he said, opening the front door and walking in. He went upstairs, negotiating the halls slowly and silently until he found what he was looking for: a small bedroom with an open door. Inside, a little girl slept peacefully on a bed. Backlash grinned.

“Hello, Rosy.”

He walked into the room, laughing under his breath and whispering wickedly. “You almost escaped it. But not quite.” He put his front legs on the bed. “Now, I’ll give it to you so badly they’ll never cure you.” He opened his mouth, bacilli-laden saliva coating his teeth, preparing to bite…
Balto wrapped one of his virus arms around Backlash’s head, preventing him from biting or making noise. With the other, he broke the monster’s back. His tail went limp, along with his back legs, and he squirmed and emitted muffled screams. “Did you honestly think I would let you get away with that?” said Balto. He walked out of the room with Backlash just as Rosy woke up. “Jenna?” she said. Jenna was standing at the door, and went in hurriedly to see if Rosy was okay. “Hi, girl,” Rosy whispered, petting her. Jenna licked her face, relieved to see that she was alright, then went outside as Rosy fell back asleep. Outside, Balto had set the monster down, and it lay there, gasping for breath and seizing from the pain. “So…what now?” Backlash said. “Don’t tell me, I already know. You’re one of those filthy do-gooders. You would never kill a helpless opponent.” Balto had no pity in his face. “You just tried to,” he said, gesturing with his head toward Rosy’s house. “But I’m not going to kill you.” He leaned into Backlash’s face. “I’m going to let what you are kill you.” He pulled Backlash’s head back, and lightly punched the neck. Backlash went to speak, but as he inhaled, there was a wet sucking sound…and then, no breath, no speech. Backlash put a foot on his throat, opening and closing his mouth. He fell to the ground, writhing, unable to get air. “What did you do?” asked Jenna. “Diphtheria causes a tough membrane to form in the throat of its victims,” Balto replied. “I moved it.” Backlash choked and spasmed only a few more seconds, and finally died. Jenna was breathing hard and trembling, and Balto comforted her. “It…it almost killed Rosy,” Jenna gasped. “Don’t worry, Jenna,” said Balto, “she’s okay. She’ll be alright.” He looked at Backlash and spat on him. “Maybe this’ll teach Sorrow to be more careful.”

The next morning, Sorrow and his henchmen waited for Backlash’s return. Sorrow personally couldn’t wait to hear the story. When a staph advance form called his name, he at first thought Backlash had arrived, but he realized that the tone of its voice was not a pleased one. He went out the door, where everyone was congregating, and looked up. Backlash was strung up on a pole right outside, hanging by his tail. Sorrow walked up to him as other advance forms studied the body. “There are so few wounds,” one said. “How did he die?” Sorrow had identified the cause instantly. “Clever boy,” he said, angrily. He reached into Backlash’s throat and yanked out the membrane. The air in Backlash’s lungs escaped, and blood flowed from his now-shredded throat. “This,” Sorrow said, crushing the membrane, forcing diphtheria-laden fluid to spurt out. He flung it down on the ground and looked skyward, screaming with frustration and rage. He turned to the gathered advance forms. “BRING ME HIS HEAD!”