The room was boiling with intensity as Zeke and I faced off. She stared into my eyes with an overbearing confidence and assurance that I would die. I had a similar feeling as I stood there unarmed and nervous. Luckily, I had been taught extensively how to fight hand to hand. Unfortunately, this was two hands versus two swords, a mismatch if I ever saw one. Before I could think any deeper, Zeke began running at me with her arms crossed, her cutlasses posed to slice me in half. I leaped back as she began swinging her blades around, attempting to decapitate me. Ducking to the side, I barrel rolled across the floor, but Zeke wasn’t slow. She was on top of me as I began standing, trying her hardest to plunge her cutlasses into my back. Running like a scared mouse, I spun around forward and ran backwards into main dining area.
Zeke followed close, her steel just missing my navel. I waited for a good time to strike out, watching her sword strokes carefully. The time came as she attempted a low swipe. Leaping back, I threw my body sideways in the air and dropped kicked her clean in the chest. She gave a rough grunt and withdrew slightly. I simply fell onto my ass and tried to crawl away before she could regain her senses. “Please…” I pleaded tiredly, “…. Please just call it off…”
She put a pissed looked on her face and grumbled to herself. “Don’t think so, cocker.” Raising her right sword high, she flung it quickly at me. I shot my body back as fast as possible, still on my hands and feet on the floor. The blade stuck into the floor just inches away from my package. A small amount of life escaped me. I couldn’t rest though. I leaped up to my feet and grabbed the cutlass jammed in the marble. “Don’t begin to think you're gonna beat me at my own game...” Zeke grinned confidently and twirled her remaining sword from hand to hand.
It was true, the sword’s weight and shape was unfamiliar to me. But improvisation was my strong suit. I leaped forward and brought the sword down fiercely, Zeke bringing her's up to block my attack. Our blades sped towards each other and were within inches of connecting when suddenly a barrage of gunfire disrupted both of us. We both dropped to the floor quickly and looked into the direction of the gunshots, forgetting our battle for the second it took. Two young men, a sandy-blonde headed white kid dressed up in an all black suit and a short-afro’d black male dressed in an all white suit. Both held what had to be Stechkin APSs. Machine pistols, classic gun fight material. Too bad I was currently engaged in a sword fight.
“What the fuck do you bell-ends think you’re doing?!” Zeke screamed furiously. She stood up with her sword ready to kill them. I took the time to slowly crawl away, but was foiled when Zeke pointed her blade down in my path. “I’m not done with you, arse head.”
"Shit…" I whispered to myself.
“Well look what we got here, Retri. A two for one…” the white gunman said amused. At that, my heart sank, and I remembered who these two were. White and Retri, gun slingers known for their accuracy and speed. Things just went from bad to worse.
“Hm. Convenient.” Retri replied casually as he reloaded his clip and cocked his gun.
“Well, let’s get this over with so I can get back to my DS.”
“Quit being a loser, White.” Retri sighed, then raised his head. The two aimed their guns simultaneously and began shooting in a fire storm of lead. I scattered out of the room frantically, leaning my back against the wall in another room, trying to catch my breath. I waited for Zeke to drop dead from the gunshots while simultaneously questioning God just to as why he placed me in these situations. The clatter of the automatic pistols seemed to go on for an eternity, a constant clack-clack-clack accompanied by the sound of crumbling marble and ricochets.
Then the gunshots ceased. I heard the sounds of frantic reloading and I peaked around the corner expecting to see a grizzly scene of gore. As soon as my eyes passed the edge of the wall, I was forced to duck my head again, a black-covered body flying through the air and into the bar room. White rolled across the ground and slammed back and head first into a wall. He let out a deep growl of pain and lifted his head. Rubbing the back of it frantically, he ruffled his hair. “Argh… totally owned… and by a chick no less.” I noticed he still had his gun gripped tightly in hand. His eyes met mine and I gulped hard. “Hm… maybe you won’t be such a problem.” His gun rose up and aimed at me, a smirk spreading across his pale face. I was defenseless and scared. Me and death were about to get acquainted again. His finger wrapped around the trigger and I felt myself begin to tremble.
“Put down the gun, asshole!” screamed DW’s voice. His slender figure leaped from out of hiding with a rather large Desert Eagle clutched in both hands. White’s eyes darted over, an expression of alarm meeting DW’s obvious panic.
Things were about to get a little more interesting.
