When she first sees the barrel of the gun, the gaping black maw that holds only the promise of death, the darkness threatening at any moment to roar and spit fire like the throat of a dragon gaping towards its prey, Robin is petrified. Most people wrongfully assume that word means afraid when it fact it just means frozen, but in this instance it signifies both. Robin’s never exactly been comfortable around guns anyway, but most recently she’s come to associate armed strangers with a very specific chain of events that invariably lead to someone getting their face hacked, chewed, melted, or otherwise taken off.
Or maybe this is the result of her powers? Maybe this sudden rescue isn’t just a happy, well-timed bit of vigilantism on this attractive, dangerous, dangerously attractive stranger’s part. Monsters come in many forms, so it’s not too much of a stretch to think that she’s been drawn here, whether consciously or not, by whatever higher force is so determined to keep Robin safe from harm.
In any case, she figures it’s best not to look a gift shotgun in the muzzle. She wrenches herself away from the dude who’d grabbed her shoulder, his grip weakened by terror at the sight of the gun, and scampers to the stranger’s side. She’s not sure which she’s more relieved to be away from; the business end of the gun, or the heavyset jock and his frat boy buddies.
“Hey, it’s cool,” the fuckboy stammers, speaking for his posse as they mimic him, compliantly displaying their palms in the universal don’t shoot gesture. “It’s cool, lady- we don’t want no trouble- we was only playing-”
Robin says nothing, averting her gaze when he looks to her as if silently pleading for her to back him up. She’s not about to speak in his defense when him and his buddies were circling her like hyenas just a moment prior, laughing at her when she’d told them to back off. On some level she’s aware that she probably doesn’t want them dead, but right now? Right now, she’s still angry enough- still scared enough- that she just can’t bring herself to give a shit.
Buckshot is a spray capable of all too much damage. She could reshape the men’s faces, a plastic surgeon’s job in the barrel of a gun and a single spring loaded trigger. Oh sorry, sugar, didn’t realize you wanted more duchess nose, less visible brain matter! Sneering with a brutal shade of insults in clenched white teeth, ugly and brittle. Her stands grows wider when the girl comes to stand by her side. Hips and shoulder defensive -- blocking her from their reach, a weapon of muscles and bone that just dares them to try and claw their way through her.
“Is it? Is it cool? I can think of some cooler things, you know.” Siobhan doesn’t hide her scathing, doesn’t untuck her shotgun from her arm. “Like how about that I'm a fucking surgeon with this shotgun. And the distance doesn’t even require it.”
She feels the cool metal beneath her palms. Not a single shot has been fired in the last half hour, and her hands are shaking. Just enough to be worried that she might send half the buckshot into a building rather than flesh and skin -- but fuck, they don’t need to know that. Exhaustion is her dirty little secret. Judging by the nerves underneath their half drunk faces, no one has a clue. Wavering as they take a step back. Looking uncertain -- like they want to run, not sure if they should. Fair. Well, shit. She’s all too happy to clear the situation up.
Just a few inches about their skulls ( the right amount ) she aims. Fires. A heavy spray that whistles through their hair, singing edges, possibly burning and scraping the skin beneath if they’re all too unfortunate. But the resounding B O O M makes the very air shake. Stomachs must be dropping, she thinks. Grinning through all of her teeth as she cocks the next shell. Aims where their heaving chests are.
Only the one in brown pants was smart when he got dressed today.
“Tell you what. We got three seconds until I’m done counting down. Three seconds, and I’m blowing holes in your spines that you can finger when you’re lonely. So turn around. Run. And never approach another woman for the rest of your fucking lives, because if I know, I will kill you.” One eye closes, the other falls onto sights. “Ready? One, two --”
