We Are the Misfits || Sam & Faith
Why is it always a Wednesday when shit gets real for the undead? You'd think Saturday night would be more appropriate. More innocent feedbags out getting wasted, being careless, but Wednesday? Maybe it's hump day, who knows.
Tonight's no different. Faith's little walk to the gas station from her motel has landed her smack-dab in the middle of a feeding frenzie. A couple of blonde cougars in business suits cower against the brick face of the back of a Wendy's in a Bakersfield strip mall parking lot, clinging to each other and softly weeping. One bleeding, but it's not bad, and Faith doesn't have time to worry about that part of the equation just yet.
She's three down out of ten vampires when one of them, a petite thing, kicks her so hard she hits the wall beside the crying women and then the ground. She winces, hard, lifting up to all fours and reaching to fold an arm across her stomach in pain, "Ugh, shhi... " she spits another mouthful of blood onto the pavement and trudges the climb to her feet, "You wanna get rough, guys? Better have a safe word..."
Finally, she reaches into a double gun holster beneath her jacket and pulls out what can only be described as a chair leg. A bit of ornate wood whittled to a point at the end. She's managed all her kills tonight without having to go for a weapon but there comes a point when you have to admit to yourself that what you're doing is stupid and just rely on your backup. Faith's done, 100%, and she starts towards one of the vampires only to skid to a stop in her tracks when the thing gets hit by buckshot right in front of her, "What the hell?"
@alwaysaweapon
