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BlackCitySkyline

Story 17: A Close Retirement

Aug 18th, 2013
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  1. Your breathing was ragged, your vision a tunnel. Your mind was racing to keep on top of the situation, which had deteriorated quickly. You were pumping your legs through the shin deep snow, then slipped into cover behind a tree. Aiming your shotgun without any actual aiming, you fired blind. You hoped it hit your target, or at least kept her at bay, but harsh reality suggested all that you did was stripped a tree of its bark.
  2.  
  3. Taking deep breathes, you listened. Only the silence of a snow blanketed forest.
  4.  
  5. Crunch crunch crunch crunch.
  6.  
  7. You lowered yourself, poising to step out of cover and deliver the killing blow. As the crunches grew louder, you did just that, pointing your shotgun at no one. Shit, she's coming from the other side, you thought, gritting your teeth at your own mistake. Turning, you saw gleaming metal swinging down. You ducked out of the way, but your leg took a glancing blow, too much skin missing. The axe polearm embedded itself into the tree, and with a caress of the trigger, it barked wild.
  8.  
  9. Unsurprisingly, you had missed, but you made the person use the tree as cover, giving you a tiny bit of breathing room. You favored your wounded leg, limping away from the tree, holding the shotgun with white, numb fingers. Your eyes never moved from the trunk, knowing from either side the magical girl would step out. You observed the axe polearm, then the arc of crimson across the white. That was your blood.
  10.  
  11. How many times had you allowed that to happen? Whatever the count, it wouldn't be the last time.
  12.  
  13. "Give it up, Murderface," The magical girl came out on the left. You jerked your arms the slightest and fired. She disappeared from sight, then came out again from the right, already freeing her weapon and charging you with a scream.
  14.  
  15. She came on you quicker than you could aim and fire, making you block the axe polearm with your weapon. Immediately it was apparent who had the most strength, an eversor like her a considerable threat. Almost in her own league. Holding the brief clash, you wondered whether or not Kyoko would have problems tangling with her.
  16.  
  17. The snarl turned into a vicious grin on the eversor's face, angling her weapon and deftly getting the shotgun out of your grip, sending it flying in the air with a flourish. She finished it by stabbing you in the gut with the spiked tip. She then tore your stomach with it, kicking you back.
  18.  
  19. You flew back, landing flat out on your back in the cold ground. Intense pain rang out in your stomach, clouding your senses.
  20.  
  21. Your brain summoned a storm of curses in retaliation. Come on, get your head up, you despicable example of a magical girl. Do you want to die this way?!
  22.  
  23. Well... maybe you did...
  24.  
  25. For a brief moment, you skipped the first four steps and proceeded with the fifth: Acceptance. It was okay to die like this. The eversor was taking her time walking to you, dragging her weapon behind her. You were crippled with pain, and she had the means of giving you solace. So why not take it? It was a chance to go out quickly. Something you never had the courage to do so.
  26.  
  27. She grew closer, and closer, and that acceptance you were feeling went away with the pounding of your heart, with the emptying of your gut. No, nononononono, you shook your head. You weren't going out like this. The pain would be too great. No, no. No. No. No. No.
  28.  
  29. You rammed your shaking hand into your shield's hyperspace, grabbing whatever gun that would find its way to you. You pulled out a silver smith and weston revolver, glinting the moonlight like a beautiful piece of polished chrome. The eversor began her swing, the blade seconds away from cutting deep into you. With fear enabling fluid motion, you aimed the gun at her face and pulled the trigger with a tense finger.
  30.  
  31. A thundercrack shot out, the gun kicked like a mule, and her face folded in like a wormhole, then became a fine cloud of red. The axe polearm lost a lot of the momentum, a lot of the driving force, but it still had enough to penetrate, biting moderately in your shoulder. Even more pain screamed out for attention. You let out a cry, dropping your revolver onto the snow.
  32.  
  33. The eversor's body fell, and laid motionless.
  34.  
  35. Your head felt woozy. You had lost a lot of blood to this killer. You might bleed out. You laughed at that. You had picked the hardest way to die, a lingering death full of numbness and cold, of inner monologues and reflections. The stuff those entering their twilight years did. You were only a girl, barely there to a young adult, even if you were chronologically trapped forever.
  36.  
  37. However, you still had to report in. To give Kyuubey the news. Oh yeah, the news. You retired Sazumi Hirogami, the killer eversor. The one who had to be put down yesterday.
  38.  
  39. Ah, wait, you hadn't sealed the deal yet. Your upper body rose, the blade moving horribly in its custom made sheath that was your shoulder. You gritted your teeth, hand gripping the neck. Pulling with all what was left of your might, you pried it loose with a searing flash of pain, hot liquid soaking your arm and right torso side.
  40.  
  41. Another cry of pain, another pointless victory for Murderface. You stood up the rest of the way, sucking in air like you did with Kong. Breathing didn't settle the pain down, but it focused you. You needed to focus. You were a professional, the only thing you had going for you. Professionalism.
  42.  
  43. Professionalism.
  44.  
  45. Bending over, you grunted in pain, realizing your stupidity at getting up then down again, your left hand gripping your heavy revolver. A thin wisp of smoke drifted from the moon-glinting, partially covered in blood barrel. Stepping to the body, you unloaded your revolver into the body, hoping to get her soul gem. The bullets ate through the armor like butter, leaving golfball sized holes. You were thorough, and always finished what you started.
  46.  
  47. Content with your handiwork, you checked yourself over. Your right arm was useless, unable to move beyond a slight twitch. The pain was numb but pulsed every so often, and everything felt strangely warm-cold. Your stomach was a mess, blood leaking out from the jagged chasm. Your suit was possibly the worst you ever saw it, more red than white or purple. One look and someone would believe you should be dead, but you weren't. You could still walk, albeit at a limp's pace, and breathe, even if that function wasn't needed for someone like you.
  48.  
  49. Time to report in. You felt yourself over for your phone, but didn't find it. With weariness in your eyes, you looked at the path you ran.
  50.  
  51. Shit, you must've dropped it. Dealing with the new layer of trouble life was giving you, you breathed, calmed yourself. Then you began to limp back to where it all started, with your left hand holding your revolver, your left arm pressed firmly against your stomach. You limped away from a half spent shotgun, a pack of cigarettes that fell out without your knowing of it, and a hole riddled, faceless corpse. All in the middle of some forest in the middle of winter.
  52.  
  53. You wouldn't collapse from the blood loss. You wouldn't die from that. You would report in, and get much better.
  54.  
  55. Hopefully.
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