Verità d'oro | G. Mista x F!Reader

Episodio 6: Sex Pistol Appear [Part 2]

Words count: 2452 words.

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"Eat this!"

Bang!

"The one driving the van is the owner. He's not injured. His right leg is fine." Mista deduce after a single fire.

"I wasn't trying to kill you." Mista said to the enemy after he shot him.

"O Ouch! Damn it, that's twice you've shot me, you prick!" Sale said with a hole on his forehead, earning Mista's undivided attention.  

"Don't move. I'll aim properly this time." Mista said as if he wasn't aiming properly before.

Mista then regret his choice of words.

"That's real cute what you did, Mista. Your name is Mista, ain't it?" The spider style male question with carefree tone, as if he's mocking.

"It seems you've other friends here on Capri, but you're the only who's seen my face so far. Ain't that right, Mista?"

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Mista shot the enemy three time straight head on, but not a single shot landed, no injuries are made.

"You got me with that radio trap, and managed... but if I'm ready to face you, my Stand Kraft Work can knock your little bullets out of the air with ease." Sale explains, swiping off bullets like their nothing.

"By the way, I was distracted and not really counting, but how many bullet was that? Huh? Come on." Sale asked Mista as he points.

"That was four here on the truck, right?" Sale said all knowingly.

"You fired two back at the Marina Grande boathouse. Right? I've got the number right, don't I, Mista?" 

Cluck!

The revolver was indeed empty as Mista still found himself dumbfounded by Sale's lively figure having a bullet in his forehead.

Had the gunman lost count, now he paid the price with an empty chamber.

"This means I can get close enough to kick your ass without a worry, doesn't it?" Sale voice out as he walked in closer.

"Ah, wh what the hell?" Mista found himself, more so his hand glued to the handle he grasp earlier.

As if his hand was glued and fixed upon that handle.

"N No way, my left hand won't come off. Hey you, how long do you plan to keep driving this truck? Stop already you dumbass!" Mista frustrate and slightly raised his voice to the driver.

"I'm with you. Someone stop this thing." The driver sweated, seemingly in grave situation like Mista.

 "Please make the truck stop. I've been trying." The driver wails.

"Think about it. Why would I be so nice as to tell you you're out of bullets? You think I did it out of kindness?" Sale scoffed.

"Mista, I felt safe telling you because there's no way for you to escape this truck. The driver can't remove his foot from the accelerator, or his hands from the wheel."