All Lit Up || Annabeth and Colton
Maslowe had not given him clear instructions. He had been given a revolver, a gun he wasn't familiar with and largely associated with rich women in the 1930s who murdered their husbands, and he had been given a task: get back to him without being seen. It wasn't a busy part of the city, but all the same, it felt impossible. This was probably necessary so that he could get away from crime scenes, but the exercise felt contrived and pointless. Mostly, he thought that Maslowe was getting back at him for missing yet another training session.
Revolver tucked inside his coat, Colton peered around a corner, into another alleyway. Nobody was there; he leaned back against the wall. The interlinking alleys formed a maze, this was difficult to navigate. It was rapidly getting dark, nearly dusk now, and he was starting to get twitchy, unused to his finger on the trigger for so long.
He swept around the corner, not expecting to see anybody as he'd already checked. But there was a person. He exclaimed, pulled out the revolver and aimed to the left of the girl's head. He pulled the trigger, as a warning shot. But there was no noise but a click.
"What the fuck? It's unloaded!" he cried. Then, "Who the hell are you?"