Post by poss on May 27, 2009 12:57:54 GMT -5
Each and every bullet was deflected at those in which she could not have ever considered as targets, and yet her bullets pierced them, bringing them from their surrounding stance to the concrete in a crumpled heap. Anastasia gasped, still in mid stride in reverse in attempt to escape this meeting of theirs. She was not one who put up with temptation very easily, often finding her own route than decision upon one of the two options. And in this case, it only got others hurt. And herself.
His actions were far quicker than she, a mere human, could have mimicked. His hand grasping the grip of his firearm and releasing a bullet from the chamber in the split second it took her to realize what it was he was about to do. The searing pain. A rush of heat. Intensifying as she crumpled forward, arms crossing over her lower abdomen where the bullet embedded itself. She coughed, eyes squinted tightly closed as she fell to her knees, staying in an upright position as she bled out. It made even breathing difficult. She could taste the copper tingle of blood dancing over her taste buds and knew it was only going to get worse.
The barrel cast its aim on her head rather than her stomach now, her eyes opening to glare coldly in his direction. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, yet common sense told her to ignore the urge to lash out at him again now that she was so badly wounded. Screams from across the street- it was midday after all, as women and children ran for the nearest entry way to hide from the two gun wielding patrons. Glaring down the barrel back up at the man who stared down it at her, hearing his demand. She hated to admit it. Hated to allow him such power over her. Hated.. "I do hate you.{/b]" She muttered with a wheeze through her somewhere blood tainted lip line. There was no doubt about it- it had been true the moment he admitted who he was. She could not change the fact that she wanted to hurt him. Wanted to cause him grief and pain. Instead, she was the one on her knees, fighting the urge to fall forward on to the sidewalk. She had to be stronger than that. The gun dropped to the sidewalk infront of her. Her own gun was still clutched tightly in her hand, forearm pressed to her stomach however over the open wound. Ana had no thought of shooting at him again- the fact that she had no idea who the bullet would hit next bothered her. If it took her, instead of some innocence bystander, it would be better. Leaning forward, the knife wielding hand pressed palm down on to the sidewalk as she kept herself hoisted. She waited for him to leave.
His actions were far quicker than she, a mere human, could have mimicked. His hand grasping the grip of his firearm and releasing a bullet from the chamber in the split second it took her to realize what it was he was about to do. The searing pain. A rush of heat. Intensifying as she crumpled forward, arms crossing over her lower abdomen where the bullet embedded itself. She coughed, eyes squinted tightly closed as she fell to her knees, staying in an upright position as she bled out. It made even breathing difficult. She could taste the copper tingle of blood dancing over her taste buds and knew it was only going to get worse.
The barrel cast its aim on her head rather than her stomach now, her eyes opening to glare coldly in his direction. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, yet common sense told her to ignore the urge to lash out at him again now that she was so badly wounded. Screams from across the street- it was midday after all, as women and children ran for the nearest entry way to hide from the two gun wielding patrons. Glaring down the barrel back up at the man who stared down it at her, hearing his demand. She hated to admit it. Hated to allow him such power over her. Hated.. "I do hate you.{/b]" She muttered with a wheeze through her somewhere blood tainted lip line. There was no doubt about it- it had been true the moment he admitted who he was. She could not change the fact that she wanted to hurt him. Wanted to cause him grief and pain. Instead, she was the one on her knees, fighting the urge to fall forward on to the sidewalk. She had to be stronger than that. The gun dropped to the sidewalk infront of her. Her own gun was still clutched tightly in her hand, forearm pressed to her stomach however over the open wound. Ana had no thought of shooting at him again- the fact that she had no idea who the bullet would hit next bothered her. If it took her, instead of some innocence bystander, it would be better. Leaning forward, the knife wielding hand pressed palm down on to the sidewalk as she kept herself hoisted. She waited for him to leave.