Glitter and Gunshots

Bite Me

You whipped your head towards the direction the kick had come from, already scrambling backwards and reaching back into your pocket for your last resort.

Your gun.

Your fingers trembled against the cold metal; your legs shook beneath you from the very sensation.

Guns. You'd never liked guns.

The man in front of you approached slowly, cautiously, perhaps having seen what you'd done to the other fallen forms around you. In his own hand was a gun, trained on you without any signs of hesitation.

You circled each other, the only sound the crunch of broken glass beneath your boots and your heavy breaths filling the air.

Your eyes were locked on his—pools of dark, shiny, midnight black in the dim, flickering light of the alleyway. The bottom half of his face was obscured by a black mask, and the skin you could see kept on sliding in and out of the shadows. His hair was black and wavy, covered in a sheer layer of sweat, that framed his face and cast shadows across his face. Then they scanned over his body, over the black boots, the black cargo pants, the white t-shirt tucked into the pants, and the flannel draping over his shoulders.

He was a boy. A college student. One of the ones you'd seen from earlier.

Yet he stood before you, finger trained on the trigger of his gun, eyes promising consequences if you dared to make a move.

Those calculating eyes... taking in the burn on your leg, the scrape on your chest, the stripe of exposed skin that you prayed wouldn't open up for fear of flashing the man.

"What do you want?" You finally growled.

It was quiet, the man's careful treading all you could hear.

"Not even a thank you, then?"

You raised an eyebrow, turned to the side, and finally turned your pissed gaze back onto the man. "I think I'd be a bittt more inclined to if you weren't holding a gun."

"I'll drop mine if you drop yours."

"Hell no!"

"Fine, then just listen to me, won't you—" But as the young man took a step forward, hands in the air, you leapt forward and grabbed his gun—

Just as he grabbed your own.

You were closer now, only two feet away, guns still trained, feet still treading carefully. Your eyes were locked on each other, breath intermingling in the air around you.

"Thought you were gonna come in peace," you breathed.

"You didn't exactly give me a choice."

"There isn't one. You're a witness, and witnesses have to go."

"Y/n, listen—"

But you'd already launched yourself at the man, pocketing the gun and reaching out your hands as though you were a cat scrambling to claw its owner's eye out. The man rolled to the side, but you followed him and pinned him to the pavement. Hard. You threw his gun across the alley, where it clattered against the far wall.

"Where'd you hear that?"

The man winced under your hold, your knees digging into his legs, your hands pinning his wrists to the ground.

"You're not exactly unknown in my world, Hwang. Now if you'd please—"

The man flipped himself up, bucking you off and sending you backwards. You aimed your electro-bullet at him, but he ducked, yanked you up, and held your wrists together in front of his face.