H O R R O R S || B T S [Completed]

| = > Chapter Seven < = |

You know those times where you can't even comprehend what the hell you think you're doing... Yeah, this is one of those times.

I didn't realize my foolishness until after the vocal bang resonated from my squeezing the trigger. The bullet flew in a matter of milliseconds, burying into the plaster of the wall nearly two feet next to one of the guy's heads. So, I didn't manage to take out a target, instead making myself one.

The two burly males gazes immediately transfer to my slightly hidden form at the abrupt battle cry of my gun, silence casting amongst the lower level as well. Their stoned expression shift to ferocity, dark eyes sparkling with a fearing blood lust. They quicken their movements, conquering the remainder of the stairs and face my bent figure, pointing their own firearms my direction.

Okay. I don't particularly want to die... So let's improvise.

I attempt to aim and fire once more, successfully sinking the shot into the left most man's shoulder. He reels back, violently knocking against the wall and completely dropping his own weapon. He makes no movement to rise.

The other individual seethes, prompting my agility to begin. I swiftly leap out of the line when the male aggressively lets loose his own shower of bullets. Carefully, I maneuver through the deadly stream, contorting my body to avoid the incoming attack. Eventually, I'm close enough to my missed target and force my left leg beneath his own feet. The male collapses easily, firearm escaping his fingertips. I end his consciousness with a firm kick to the face.

"Damn it! She's up there!" The previous voice forces me back into my thoughts, hands launching for the second target's automatic weapon. "Stop her you bastards!"

I sprint toward the nearest cover, which so happened to be the wall leading into the hallway just as violent bullet fire began to rain. My back compresses tightly against the protection of the barrier, fingers desperately working to prepare the gun within my grasp. Footsteps pound against the steps, further unsettling my already anxious nerves. Just put the damn piece there- shit!

I thrust the gun beside me, effectively knocking against an approaching male. He falls backwards, causing a small distraction that allows my hand to finish their current task. I push the magazine back into the weapon, leap from my cover and release a good amount of bullets at the start of the stairwell.

A couple nearing attackers become victim to my abrupt presence, bodies collapsing and rolling back down the length of the steps. Stepping over a large corpse, I quickly descend the stairs, sending a dead end shot to a man awaiting at the bottom. On the first level, I duck behind a pillar from the hallway, wincing at the sound of bullets meeting the decorative marble. Attempting to calm the desperate inhales of my chest, I check upon the half empty mag of the weapon and sink my teeth into my bottom lip. Another angry shout bounces between the rain of bullets, the fire instantly halting. My gaze transfers left, noting the incoming footsteps and nearing shadow.

Breathe.

One.

Breathe.

Two.

Breathe.

Three.

Now.

I spin my body in the direction of the progressing individual, swinging the firearm with the movement of my arms. The gun violently lands against my target, flying from my grasp with its forcefulness. My feet swiftly sprint from their place, moving around the blockade to face the distracted person. I raise my right leg, delivering a harsh kick against their torso in which pulls a pained groan from their lips. With a good amount of force, I lift my other limb up with the first still in descent, and land my foot against their chin, causing their head to roughly snap back against their neck. They fall to the ground in an immobile heap.