Can’t sleep, nothing new about that, and I figured since I had the internet at my disposal and I don’t look at porn I’d visit mine and Scott Free’s little corner of the world here. I wrote this a couple of days ago and wanted to put it up but didn’t want to spend the time typing it up on here that could have been spent on other pursuits. Well it’s 4 a.m. and all I have waiting behind me is a cold bed so I suddenly have the time. This might fit in with something I started here or it might fit in with This Wicked Orb, I don’t know.
A lone figure stands on the corner, haloed in the orange glow of the street light overhead. He stood there and posed a striking figure, cold, hopelessly waiting against the chill air of the night. I drive past pondering him when, with almost imperceptible motion, he drew and fired. It’s so fast I don’t even hear the blast, just the sound of glass as shards of my front window flutter, like leaves in an autumn wind, into my face.
“They found me a lot faster than I thought they would I guess”
I don’t bother assessing the damage I just grab the wheel and stand on the gas. More shots come like cannon fire and more glass floods the car. This guy’s good but, luckily for me, he’s not good enough. I feel the wheel in my hands start to jerk and shake. The car shudders and the dull flap of rubber on asphalt slams into my ears. Fuck, he got one of the back tires. I hazard a look back and see him rushing up behind me on a motorcycle I hadn’t seen when I drove past. Weighing my limited options I feel one of the other tires go, this time sending the rubber flying out behind me. I’m slowing down now as my bare rims claw grooves in the pavement, sending sparks glowing into the night.
I was hoping to avoid doing something like this until I absolutely had to but this guy’s giving me no real choice. Looking back through the one rearview mirror his bullets haven’t taken I judge the distance between Ivan, I’ll call him this because these guys always seem to have Russian names, and I. Judging his speed I quickly do the math and I reach behind me to pull the gun from the small of my back. One hand on cold steel and the other on hard molded plastic I slam on the brakes and pull the wheel hard to the right. The bare rims resist at first then finally give way under the sheer inertia of the car and I slide sideways across the lane. Ivan’s coming fast and firing wildly into the passenger side. I take my time though. I take a deep breath and judge the distance and his speed again. I’ve got about fifteen seconds before he’s close enough for his shots to be accurate. Luckily I only need five. I level my sites on Ivan and as I breathe a deep sigh a flash fills my eyes and the smell of burning powder fills the car around me. I don’t even have to look to know he’s gone down.
With a calm that at once disgusts and exhilarates me I slowly get out and walk over to the wreckage I’ve turned him into. I look down at what’s left of his face and see that he’s just a kid, just a fucking kid, no more than 21. I feel the gun quiver in my hand and I can’t tell whether from anger or regret. I steel myself against the storm building up inside me and put the gun back in it’s home at my back. I bend down, pull the coat off of him, and lay it over his face.
“Sorry Ivan, you gave me no choice. Maybe you’ll end up better on the other side.”
I leave him there in the road amidst a rapidly spreading pool of his own fluids. I grab his bike, right it, and ride on into the fray that waits for me somewhere out there in the night. I’ve got a long way to go before the sun comes up and a lot more damage to do.