Assassin's Quarter 4 MxM (Staten Krown)

3

"I can't breathe..."

A is in front of me. This guy A is definitely a strange one, to say the least. He's not as muscular or toned as the other boys. He has these glasses. He definitely doesn't fit in. I shouldn't feel responsible for him, but for some reason I do.

He's slipped on the slippery staircase and tumbled forward. He collapses onto the ground. A stampede of people almost run over him trying to get down the stairs. It's like they don't see him. It's almost like they don't even fucking care that this guy is laying on the ground in the way he is.

He has this defeated look on his face. The kind of look that says the fear of gunmen chasing us down the stairs is getting to us.

BANG!

"They're coming," I realized out loud.

This causes a real panic. I pull A out the way when people speed down the stairs falling over each other to get down the steps. I look up the stairs. I don't see anyone but it definitely was a gunshot! The gunmen were definitely after us. I had no doubt about that. I bend over at that moment and grab A, I try to lift him. Sure enough he is having some sort of panic attack or something like that.

"Get up," M tells A.

The truth is the others have already run right past us. They were about to run right over A if I hadn't pulled him out of the way.

"I can't breathe," A continues to say.

"We're going to leave you if you don't get the hell up," M states.

M is a strong looking girl. Her face is chiseled in a way that makes her look so aggressive, almost masculine when she talks now. The pretty girl thing is completely out of the window. She definitely has a masculine, if not butch side to her with the way she is talking. She's definitely a tough girl.

"I'm not leaving him," I tell M, "Go ahead."

M looks at me. She looks at A. She looks down the stairs, "Grab his left side, I'll grab his right. We'll carry him down the stairs together."

I'm surprised when M sticks next to me. I'm surprised how strong she is when she helps him up. He continues to have his panic attack and it seems to be getting worse, but we have no time to try to calm him down. We have to get down the steps or we'll be the first victims.

"Leave me," A is telling us, "I'm...slowing...you...both...down..."

M looks over at me, "He has a point."

He did have a point. He was slowing us way down. The others are probably two flights ahead of us at this point. We can't move down the steps as fast. We are barefooted and naked but the stairs are slippery. They are unnaturally slippery actually. It's almost like oil or something has been spilled on them to make them this slippery. On purpose. These people were playing games with us.

And we were nothing but toys to them.

I think about abandoning A. I actually really think about it but then we hear gunshots. More gunshots. So many more. They aren't just coming from upstairs though. They aren't warning shots. I can't tell where these automatic gunshots are coming from.

"What's happening?" M asks.

I stop. I don't know. I don't get it. Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong. In the next few minutes, we realize what it is. A group of the other hostages are running back UP the stairs!

"They are shooting!" a guy with the letter P tattooed right on his forehead states, "They are coming from downstairs."

We look at this guy. He's covered in blood. It's not his own. My heart is beating so FAST!