Guns & Roses

Chapter 39

[Sheriff]

A new building, a new massacre. 2B told him to trail behind Hank while he worked. Not to help him at all, just to offer first-aid should he be injured. Like usual the doors were kicked down and the mayhem began, only he felt a little... Strange about this one.

2B gave him his revolver back, not that he planned on using it. Yet, he scanned the bodies as a shiver crept up his spine. He wanted to make sure they died quickly, not that he doubted Hank's aim, but because if they didn't he'd have to do it. His mind was bombarded with flashes of that poor man. He still remembered the laboured wheezing and unnatural twitching. His hand shook slightly as he held it just above his holster. He still wasn't sure if he'd be able to pull the trigger.

It was strange, though. He was trailing fairly slow, especially with the new waves of guilt holding him down with another pit in his chest and yet... He was still more or less caught up with Hank. By now, he should've been on the other side of the building. He looked up, a little shocked by what he saw. Hank was... He was struggling.

For a moment, he froze, just watching as a grunt ducked under Hank's punch, before an agent came from behind, attempting to choke him out with a metal bat. While Hank was trying to pry the agent off his back, the grunt took the chance to swing at his stomach. It connected, and he saw Hank curl inward for a second, before letting out a frustrated yell, backing into the wall to slam the agent into it. Using the split-second the agent flinched, Hank managed to wrestle the bat out from their grip, swinging it for the grunt.

This time, he didn't miss, hitting the grunt on the side of the head, to which they promptly collapsed. As the agent grabbed the bat again, fighting with Hank for it, Hank ducked down, grabbing a pocket knife off the floor and stepping forward, stabbing it into their stomach repeatedly until they too collapsed.

For a second, it felt like everything stopped. He could see Hank's chest moving as if he were breathing heavily, but he heard nothing. The silence was deafening. Then, Hank moved suddenly, staring dead at Sheriff with a glare of pure anger. He flinched, trying to keep his expression calm.

"Gun." Hank held out his hand, looking at him expectantly. "Now."

His voice was laced with a suppressed rage, so Sheriff silently got the gun out of his holster, handing it to him with the hopes that he didn't do anything wrong somehow. Hank snatched off him the second he was close enough to grab it, not even hesitating as he shot the two that had assaulted him, before pressing forward, his shoulders noticeably more tense.

Sheriff jogged behind him, doing his best not to slip or trip on the bodies littering the floor. Another wave of guilt hit him as he looked over them. What if one was suffering and he didn't even have a gun to try ending their suffering with? While he knew in his heart he'd never be able to shoot, there was still the hope that his head would take over and finish the job before he realised he even did it.

At least, that's what he hoped would happen. Still though, despite now having a gun, which he'd discarded on the floor and replaced with a new one, Hank still seemed to be struggling. Sheriff scooped down and grabbed his revolver off the floor while Hank was being forced to back away... Wait... Hank was being forced back?

Five men total. Three had pistols, the other two, a knife and metal pipe. The first three were laying down fire fairly well... Too well. A bullet whizzed past his ear, nicking the edge of it. A small surge of pain, like he'd been pinched came from it. Hank ducked into the room next to him, holding the door open and looking specifically at Sheriff, likely trying to signal that he was waiting for him. Sheriff couldn't move. He willed his legs to move, for anything to move. Nothing. The only reason he was still standing was because the men were reloading.