The infernal champion of justice for Weatherfield strikes back.
|Fizz always knew she was different. Not simply because she was fat, ginger and not very good-looking, but because she was special. And not 'special' in the conventional sense of the word. She had special, extraordinary abilities. By day she was Coronation street's much loved, eccentric resident. By night, she was BLAZEWOMAN!!!
A vigilante, champion of justice, Blazewoman rights wrongs and punishes evil-doers with her infernal abilities.
Dierdre and her mother Blanche were strolling down the hallowed cobbles of Coronation street when suddenly, out of the blue, an uncouth ruffian hurtled past them, snatching Blanche's bag in the process.
"Help!" cried Dierdre "Stop, THIEF!" she cried again, attracting the attention of her neighbours. Blanche was quite shook up as they sat in the Rover's Return Pub over a Gin and Tonic. Fizz had witnessed the whole thing, but there were too many people about to charge after him and expose herself as Blazewoman. She knew who he was anyway. And that night she would go get him.
The purple clouds of night hung menacingly in the air, threatening rain. Fizz didn't like the water. It did terrible, terrible things to her unruly, wild hair. But she didn't let it stop her speeding into the ghettoes of Manchester to punish that little drug addict and recover what was left of Blanche's property.
"HAAAAYAAAH!" Fizz cried as she brought the heel of her fiery boot down hard on the perpetrator's head. Blood spilled from his shattered nose and onto the sodden mattress on which he lay. He could only manage a cry of pain in reply as Blazewoman hooked her fingers behind his front teeth and flung him through the rotten door of his squat. The boy's friends charged around the corner to his rescue, but Blazewoman simply picked them off. Her fist slammed into the face of one boy and she tripped up another clumsy lad. She then proceeded to pick him up by his ankles and swing him around like a terrible human mace. She heard his skull split as she swung his head into a wall. She swung him back round in time, before another angry lad struck her, and smashed the human mace's shattered skull into his knees. The other lad fell in pain and she took the opportunity to slam herself onto his head. His neck was immediately broken.
Blood shone in the dingy light of the squat and, picking up Blanche's empty, sequined bag, she strutted out of the room. It erupted into flames at the click of her fingers.
"Oh, thankyou dear" said Blanche as she was given back her bag "but how did you find it?".
Fizz made up a lie about how he dropped it around the corner from Coronation street. And life resumed its gentle flow.
Until Les Battersby revealed himself to be an evil doctor of hypnosis, and was using his powers to enslave the people. Starting with the children, he would order them to commit petty crimes, much to Rita's dismay, as Dev was on holiday for a month and hers was the only shop around. He would then order the adults to pay him tax and the rest of them to pay him protection money. Protection from himself.
Fizz's eyes filled with tears as she watched little Chesney get carted off by the police for the sixth time this week for shoplifting and she knew she had to act.
Les might be her step-father. But he was a bad man. And bad men need to pay.
That night, as Les collected his taxes, Blazewoman descended upon him a most terrible fever, a fever that made his bones burn and his blood boil like the fires of hell were the hob on which he lay. Cilla was in peices, she just couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. But blazewoman knew this was just the beginning.
In her fiery orange outfit, she dragged him out onto the street. With the whole street watching, and to the jovial cheering and applause, she tore out his throat with her teeth. Gasping for air and clearly dying, she quickly dowsed him in petrol and set his fat corpse on fire. The street was hysterical. They poured onto the street in celebration, tasting their delicious emancipation through Les Battersby's blood. They all held hands and danced in a circle around his burning body. The stench of scorched flesh seemed as sweet as fresh lavender, considering whose body it was that she'd just desecrated. And when she put the fire out, she writhed in his flesh, celebrating her victory by smearing it all over her soft skin.
"Well, it was weird, but i found it quite erotic..." said Ken Barlow, commenting on Fizz's behaviour for an interview with the local media.
"I thought it were the best bloody party i ever went ter..." said Vera Duckworth, also interviewed.
Fizz was found guilty on several counts of murder and sentenced to 999 years in prison. Without parole.
So you see, kids, crime doesn't pay.