| You’re What I Want | Chapter 1 - City On Fire - Excerpt | ❤️🔥 ⚜️ ♠️ |
CW: Graphic violence / Gore
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Ragged breath after ragged breath huffed from a man as he sprinted through a busy street. His boots cracked against the wet pavement, his legs were jelly. His body hit a wall, and he pushed off for leverage, throwing himself down a tight alleyway, music pouring out from a club’s open window.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He breathed as he pressed himself behind a dumpster and unsheathed his pistol. A nine millimeter Chimera handgun; a sleek black model, with a tinted glass magazine and a bulbous barrel that wasn’t exactly made for bullets but something much more powerful.
He fumbled for ammo in his pockets, and seethed when a full box fell to the ground. Shouting from down the alleyway; he wheezed and stooped down to collect the ammo shimmering with various colored lights; lethal fireflies.
The man loaded the fireflies into the glass magazine and cocked the slide. He flung himself out from behind the dumpster, aimed and fired. There was a blur of orange light and as soon as it made contact with one of his opponents, it exploded in a burst of hot fire. Electricity spilled out of the wreaths of flames, its tendrils striking the other men around the target, whose guts and blood were now raining down upon them.
The man turned on his heel and continued running. He cocked the gun again and spun the nozzle at the end of the barrel. A hand grabbed him and he spun around, trapping his opponents arms in his and pressing the pistol to the man’s skull. He squeezed the trigger and a beam of yellow light cut right through. He dropped the man there and kicked him to the wayside.
Another man dropped down from the fire escape and tackled him to the ground. Another burst of yellow light sliced straight through the opponent and blood sprayed on his face and clothes. He gagged and shoved the bisected man aside, staggering to his feet and continuing his sprint.
He was getting tired. He could not become tired! He had to warn the don of the attack on their shipment of sacrifices! Of the weapon their treacherous allies would use against them! He’d made it out when no one else had. If he got tired now… the entire empire would crumble into nothing!
The man snagged a glass vial from his holster and he glanced down at it to check which one it was. Yellow smoke drifted inside and he growled under his breath. Not that one.
A motorcycle engine revved and he choked, turning on his heel and making a break for it down the street. They were going to corral him into the tunnel leading out onto Highway ninety-five! He jumped onto the sidewalk as the motorcycle weaved around cars.
People screamed as the motorcyclist unsheathed an automatic pistol and let fire. RATATATATA!
The man yanked one of the bystanders in front of him as he continued running, using the decrepit old man as a shield to the onslaught of bullets. His blood poured over him, his dead weight sagging against his arms. He peaked out from behind as the motorcycle swerved into a u-turn and brandished their gun.
He poked the barrel of his pistol over the dead man’s shoulder and let fire. The beam of energy shot through the crowd; it seared a hole through several cars and hit the motorcycle in the center, the rider’s leg incinerated clean off.
The rider screamed bloody murder tumbling across the street. The man threw his human shield onto the ground and continued to run. He spun the gun’s nozzle again -the setting it was on was much too destructive- and cocked it.
He was almost there! He just needed to lose those assholes and then—
—He was knocked off his feet by a blur of orange light. His gun went clattering to the ground and he hit the concrete with a hard thud. The air was knocked clean from his lungs and he gasped. No… no! It had found him!
There was a crazed, childish giggle that resounded through the alleyway and he choked. As he tried to reach for the pistol, the blur of orange shot through the alleyway again and kicked it far from his grasp.
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