𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

59

A/N:

Long time no see? I guess re-reading chap 15 (act ii) is in due because we're picking up where we left off. Also, as a result of the ongoing war crimes in the east, please remember to include the less fortunate in your hopes and prayers!! thank you.

I hope you like this chapter<3 also, can somebody please make a character playlist for Davina and hmu with the link? ;') i want a character playlist to listen to ugh.

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BEFORE I COULD COMPREHEND WHAT was happening, the door came apart-it blew apart, as a result of the sole effort of Machine Gun Kelly, who had employed use of his weapon and shot at the metal of where the door latched. The impact not only undid the lock, it blew the wood of the door apart as the entire thing broke through with large cracks in a cloud of dust and wood remnants.

Stepping past rubble, I rushed inside and ran towards my son, who had only just registered what was happening as he saw Colson and I burst in like we had. I stopped midway then, suddenly hesitant to my approach towards Connor lest the ride operator unleased a shot because of my movement.

My mind rushed for solutions, and before I could pick or even settle on something, Colson let loose another shot and the ride operator-a stout man with a permanent blank and hard expression on his face-stilled and dropped to his knees, a gaping dark red hole precisely in between his eyes.

It all happened in seconds, and in those piercing seconds, I didn't have time to register the fact that the ride operator's face was familiar to me. A face I had seen clad in dark suits, sauntering around in the office floor of John Whittall's mansion. Always in the background, always part of the wallpaper to me-like all of Whittall's men were.

Quickly, I scampered over to my son, undoing his belt contraptions as his chair moved rapidly in haphazard motions, in sync with the motion ride movie still playing on the screen.

"Mama, what is happening?" Connor let out, anxiety lacing his voice as he fought hard not to cry or panic.

With scared hands, he tried to help me with the rest of the buckles, but his effort wasn't doing it, and that was alright, I thought with my heart pounding in my ears. It was alright. He didn't need to make the effort at all. It was not his job to protect him, it was mine and Colson's.

Colson had sprinted out of the mini theatre, making sure there was no other eminent danger inside and on a mission to scour out the route outside. With shaking hands, knowing that Colson was right outside, I managed to undo all the contraption's, hoisting Connor out of the manically moving chair.

"Stay there sweetheart," I uttered, placing him on his feet beside the chair as I ran over to the corpse of the man from Whittall's employ who had been playing pretend at being a ride operator.

His mouth was wide open, and his forehead shot bled profusely-looking like a sick and gaping third eye that was finally opened to the horror of consequences. All of the man's limbs were sprawled on the ground between the row of chairs, taking up space boldly even in death.

Spotting his weapon, I quickly pulled it out of his grip, making sure not to touch him. The black gun felt clammy in my hands, but I held onto it, rushing back towards Connor as I held onto his hand with my free one, sporting the gun in my other.

Colson sprinted back into the small theater then, his own silver gun held high, pointed outside as he looked as us, motioning me over with Connor, using his free hand. His sky blue eyes glanced briefly over the weapon I was now sporting. There was something in his look, something that suggested that he knew I had acquired the weapon, instead of having had it on me the entire time.