This felt wrong. They were going to seperate and then he was going to get killed and then she would have nothing except a decent sprint on her side. Idiot. Heroic sacrifices were for losers.
Shego heard the first shot from Kirk. She moved on the second shot, probably not even a second later, and heard a noise from the other side of the track. It wasn't even a cry of pain, more the sort of deathly gurgling of someone who'd been shot in the head without immediate lethality. How many of them were there? Two, three? She didn't think she'd heard more than two guns going off at the same time, and given the bodies they'd found it wasn't hard to imagine a gang of four had had a recent domestic and been narrowed down to a gang of two.
Then again, in their current situation, two against one weren't better odds when the one had a gun and the two had basically nothing.
On the sixth shot, she collapsed behind the three-foot wall of what had once been another charming family home, somewhat hating herself for doing exactly what Kirk had told her even though it was plainly a suicidal idea. The aftermath of the sixth shot was just silence - no sound of returned fire, or of Kirk reloading (of course).
She peeked over the wall. The other raider had left the cover of the bus, and of course he was built like a truck - and wearing armour. Of an improvised variety that made him look like he'd covered himself in Krazy Glue and stumbled through a cookware store, but still. And he was heading towards Kirk with the sort of swift surefooted determination one might expect from someone who had recently lost the last member of their social circle.
no subject
Shego heard the first shot from Kirk. She moved on the second shot, probably not even a second later, and heard a noise from the other side of the track. It wasn't even a cry of pain, more the sort of deathly gurgling of someone who'd been shot in the head without immediate lethality. How many of them were there? Two, three? She didn't think she'd heard more than two guns going off at the same time, and given the bodies they'd found it wasn't hard to imagine a gang of four had had a recent domestic and been narrowed down to a gang of two.
Then again, in their current situation, two against one weren't better odds when the one had a gun and the two had basically nothing.
On the sixth shot, she collapsed behind the three-foot wall of what had once been another charming family home, somewhat hating herself for doing exactly what Kirk had told her even though it was plainly a suicidal idea. The aftermath of the sixth shot was just silence - no sound of returned fire, or of Kirk reloading (of course).
She peeked over the wall. The other raider had left the cover of the bus, and of course he was built like a truck - and wearing armour. Of an improvised variety that made him look like he'd covered himself in Krazy Glue and stumbled through a cookware store, but still. And he was heading towards Kirk with the sort of swift surefooted determination one might expect from someone who had recently lost the last member of their social circle.