Mafia Proverbs

Chapter 2: Full Fire & Empty Smoke (V)

His face became blank and the rest of him just as baron when Asha picked up his beloved Raffica again. The slow pace at which readied the auto-pistol was uncharacteristic of the Smoke I experienced in the past. I've never before seen him like this, so very empty in the way he's operating, as if nothing else exist except him and his gun.
This isn't Smoke.
This isn't Asha at all.
There is something much darker and far more malevolent omitting from the young soldier I've known and loved for so long.
Loading a bullet into the scorching pistol's chamber, Smoke did't even look at my curious concern when he said with an absolution, "Cover me."
The Empty Smoke reached for the Bugatti's sky and pressed the button to open the sunroof above us. He hopped onto the beige leather of the French chariot, picking, positioning and preparing for the proper moment to attack again. Just as he got steady enough in his squat, one of The Red's pick-ups closed in on the passenger side.
Smoke must have heard the crimson beast's roar approaching. While he squatted, the newly aged sixteen year old shifted his upper body and attention to the pick-up closes to him.The scorching pistol and the chrome nine sang at the pursuing truck, but the metallic falsetto didn't harmonize toward the grill, tires, or windshield. The shell of the soldier stuck the gun and his empty head out the window again, this time firing behind the rear tire at the bottom of the pick-up's bed.
The Red's on my side side continued to shoot heavy, returning my attention back to the "Draco" and the "Dragon." I fired a few rounds into the bulletproof windshield with my right hand to avoid exposing my left too much. The shot weren't exactly meant for killing, but to simply occupy the driver enough to try and gain a more favorable lead. Making the truck swerve to avoid hitting a bus, I was able to force a little leeway when something devastating woke the entire city.
Smoke's aim was on point with the two pistols, the back of the truck exploded loudly and sent the rear of the beast flipping into the air. The Red Throat's monster spat out three more attackers, all of which getting caught by the flame of the explosion and rag dolling them onto the busy street.
One went flying high and slamming into the fifteen foot stoplight, destroying the traffic system behind us before crash landing thru the rear windshield of a taxi.
Another shot like an arrow toward a stone light pole, hitting the twenty foot erect structure face first. The way his body folded like an accordion under a steam roller was so brutal, the broken bones and spewing blood punctured his ripped flesh and skin.
The last Red didn't fly or elevate as much as the other two, but no doubt experienced the most of the agony. She landed on the street in front of the truck before it was given back to gravity, sliding on the road and having large portions of exposed skin ripped from her arms, back, face and feet. The Red woman's tumbling only halted when her unconscious body became wedged under the back bumper of a gold Hyundai. Down from the sky did the crimson monster come, the bed of the flaming pick-up on to the roof of the Hyundai. Friction and force push the unsuspecting car forward aggressively, the front end of the pick-up scraping against the street. When the Hyundai viciously rolled ahead, The Red woman's arm was caught by the force and ripped clean from her shoulder. The scraping grill of the truck finished the job tragically, shaving over the destroyed female's upper body. Her torso was crushed and her face was ripped off by the bone, yanking a huge chunk off the front of her head and all the hair from her scalp.
Unrecognizable and barely looking human anymore, the brunette broad was just a mess of a creation now.
Sirens wailed in the distance and the police scanner on the dashboard alerted other squad cars, signifying the approach of the blue bloods.
Trying to calculate a good attack plan or escape route, the third Red's pick-up smashed violently into my taillights. I was whipped forward and hit my head on the edge of the steering wheel, a minor haze distorted my vision for a moment, but the car didn't lose traction. Another force took the wheel during my slight incapacitation, swerving away from the vehicle in front of us before a collision could happen.
Blinking rapidly to straighten my sight, Smoke released the wheel when I took control of it again. When I looked at him to show gratitude, the Empty Smoke was decadently wiping the blood from his Fray Proxy's face. His used a black rag that he's always carried in his back pocket to try and dry the crimson fluid from the little girl's left eye. 

Before I could speak, more shots were zipping toward my side of the car again.
I didn't see the bullets individually, but the sound of one of the darting slugs zoomed past my face and ripped off Smoke's lowered fur trimmed hood crudely from the rest of the fabric.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't react.
He didn't even acknowledge that he could have potentially been beheaded on the day of his B'Earth day and coronation. The Empty Smoke just tended to his Proxy, holding her chin lovingly with his left hand while tending to her wounds with his right.
Even with the slugs flying at us, I couldn't help but feel a little envious of the girl receiving Smoke's affection. I may not have seen him so hollow before, but I have felt that blanketing tenderness personally behind closed doors and open conversations. 

I am fucking up. A GR'Runt should not be so taken during battle, much more a Family Member of The Law getting distracted during a mission appointed by Our God Authority.
I smashed my head on the middle of the French chariot's wheel, honking the Bugatti horn unintentionally.
GET IT THE FUCK TOGETHER, OU-KAI'E!

When he recaptured his momentum, the Empty Smoke rose thru the sunroof like a rabbit out of a magician's hat. He took aim and fired at the driver's side of the bulletproof windshield, cracking the glass with his scorching pistol.
"Gun!" He yelled as he fired, holding his free hand out towards me.
There was no hesitation in my response when I flipped the barrel of the gun into my hand and placing the grip on Smoke's palm. As soon as the rubber touched his skin, the robot's fingers skillfully wrapped into the loop of the trigger. He lowered his Raffica into the car when my borrowed pistol was drawn out in a simultaneous motion.
Firing at the same spot on the windshield, he yelled to me, "Reload! Bottom right pocket!"
I took the screaming Beretta and reached in the appointed pocket, removing a thirty round magazine filled with incendiary artillery. As I was reloading, I saw the last truck attempting to catch up again, knocking over a motorcyclist the driver tried to dodge. Really slowly but very surely they were catching up to us with the "Draco" and the "Dragon," ready to ignite our health. The shape of my car will be unable to hold up against that kind of artillery, facing slimmer odds of survival if close enough.
One of the Reds behind us attempted to poke his head out and return fire, but a bullet went zipping thru is right eyebrow.