Golden Tears on the Angel's Wing

Chapter 16: Six Bullets Appears, Part 3

Mista ran, chasing after the truck as fast as he could until he jumped to the passenger side, grabbed the pole to keep him stable and aimed his gun at the driver. Seeing him directly in the eye before shouting, "Die!" He pulled the trigger and aimed up. Shooting the real enemy hidden on the roof of the cargo box, taking a bullet to the forehead. The Driver stared back at Mista in a mixture of fear and shock at what was going on.

"It looks like the driver is the real owner of the truck. I couldn't tell before, but his right leg isn't injured." Mista says. Thinking that even if the driver was the enemy there would still be traces of blood along down his leg with a bullet hole in place. So he knew that the real enemy was hiding somewhere else otherwise there would be no point in this truck moving up. "I wasn't off you, but now...." Mista trailed off. The enemy's body convulsed, twitching from Mista's attack. One bullet to the leg wasn't enough to kill a person, but one shot to the head has definitely-

"Damn it, that hurts!!" The enemy, Sale, shouted in pain and anger as he gripped his bleeding head. Mista stared back at the young man in shock. "Screw you, that's twice now you shot me, you gun-toting pyscho!" Sale was a young man of slim build with slightly tan skin and spiked orange hair on the sides of his head that fell away halfway up, and magenta eyes. Sale wore a pink sleeveless shirt with an exaggerated V-neck. It is hollowed by his hips. The pants and arm warmers were blue with light green stars and brown shoes.

"Quit squirming. Next time I'll be sure to take better aim!" Mista shouted as he kept his gun pointed at him. Though he was still shocked at how someone can survive a bullet to the head. 'Geez, what kind of lame ass line was that?! What I should've said is, 'How are you not a pile of sausage meat? I shot your ugly mug square on?' Is it possible that the bullet just missed his brain somehow?'

"You know, Mista, that last ditch effort of yours was quite endearing." Sale says as he struggles to stand up. The onyx tried to suppress a flinch. So not only did he know that he was a part of Bucciarati's team, but he also knew who he was. "I mean, Mista is your name isn't it? Help me out with something. It seems even your friends are on this beautiful island, enjoying the sights...but only you, have gazed upon my visage. Isn't that right?" Sale says as he takes one step towards Mista. Knowing full well that he was going to kill him to regain his anonymity, Mista shoots again at him three times, but Sale's Stand Arts & Crafts, a short-range power type Stand, quickly appears and easily deflects each bullet. Arts & Crafts appeared to be almost robotic, with smooth, streamlined olive green armour with dark green, brownish-green, and orange patches. It has a spike on each side of its head, bared teeth, and red eyes patterned with vertical lines. It also features striated muscles.

"You fooled me with that radio boobytrap and you even nailed me with two cheats shots, but now that we're face to face, and I'm armed with my Stand Arts & Crafts, I can knock down any bullet fired from that ridiculous pea-shooter you point around." Sale tells him as his Stand disappeared from view. "By the way, I can't say I was paying attention back there, how many bullets did you fire off? Let's see, I'm fairly certain you fired four on this truck and you shot off two back at that dumpy shack. What do you think? I did a good job counting, huh, Mista?"

Mista pulled back the hammer of his gun, but let out a gasp when he saw that he was completely out of bullets. The look on his face made Sale laugh. "Now I can get in nice and close and beat the shit out of you without a care in the world, right?" He says as he begins walking toward the gunslinger.

'Shit, he's right! I got to reload!' Mista thought to himself. It was gonna be painful, but he had to jump. Mista let go of the handle and tried to get away from the truck but he was suddenly hanging in place. He looked up and saw that his hand was stuck to the handle, keeping him in place. "The hell is up with my hand?! Damn it, it's like it's stuck to this thing!" Mista shouted as he tried to get his hand free from the handle but his feet slipped on the metallic parts of the truck and felt his heart stop a few times as he tumbled towards the speeding ground, briefly being thankful that he was stuck. He lifted himself and stared at the diver.