The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Shots

Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!-

Click!

Sasha had emptied the clip within seconds.

He hadn't made any of the shots: they were all too far to the right. One bullet grazed her forearm, but judging by how little she cared and the fact that the bullet ricocheted off of the arm, he'd managed to hit her mechanical arm.

Damn it! Why did he have to miss? All of his problems could've been solved if he'd managed to make that shot.

At least, that particular problem would be gone: she would just be faced with a whole new set of problems, filled with him living on the lam until the day he died, known throughout Russia as the guy that killed the last Romanov.

"You have one more chance," Anastasia barked, her voice echoing through the corridor like thunder. "Surrender your weapons right now, and your lives will be spared!"

Sasha might have laughed, if it weren't for the awful situation. Of course, what she failed to mention was the fact that they were going to wish they weren't alive if they were to throw down their weapons and surrender.

Artturi was thinking along those same lines: he stood up, holding his empty gun high, and yelled: "Kiss my ass, Romanov!"

Sasha couldn't help but shoot him a look. Really? They were all probably about to be killed, and those were his last words? Not something a little more heroic, maybe something kind of profound?

He actually found himself... respecting the man. It took a special kind of guy to say that to the Czarina of Russia.

Anastasia, of course, didn't find that very amusing. She raised her pistol at him, cocking the gun with her thumb.

The bastard didn't even flinch: he just stared down at his fate, uncaring.

And then, just as she was about to pull the trigger, one of the men pounced. He jumped up from the ground and dove at her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and tackling her to the ground.

"Find Nikola!" Artturi ordered.

And then, the men went bat shit crazy.

They all got up and started running about, banging on all the cell doors, yelling out the same name: "Nikola! Nikola! Nikola!" For the life of him, Sasha couldn't figure out how they were supposed to hear Nikola if he were to actually respond: Sasha could barely hear the sound of his own thoughts, let alone, what anyone else was saying.

After a few seconds of that awful cocophony, one of the men started banging on one of the cell doors repeatedly, as if he were ringing the dinner bell. "He's in here! Get me the keys!"

Artturi immediately ran over to unlock the cell door.

Sasha heard someone curse as Anastasia yelled.

He looked over there, instinctively holding up the pistol he'd emptied.

She'd managed to overpower the man pinning her down. Judging by the way the man was suddenly a soprano and was rolling on the floor in pain, she'd taken a shot at his manhood.

Sasha turned to face the other men. "She's up-"

Bang! Bang! Bang! Anastasia fired three shots.

Unlike him, she actually made one of her shots: one of her bullets took him right in the leg. The very leg that they'd almost had to amputate from the shrapnel that had torn through his body when Anastasia's army took the city.