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The Stories of Sherriwood

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Eyes widened in horror Warner heard the shot fire off.


He didn’t want to face Blue as the shot blew out his brains. He couldn’t see his friends body fall to the ground in a bloody heap. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work out, and dear lord Blue’s dead isn’t he?


Eyes brimming with tears in one swift motion he brought out his gun, firing off a round into the chest of the old bastard. Fuck him played in his head like a mantra. Fuck him into the bloody bowels of hell and have the lord refuse to offer any mercy.


Fuck him until he’s blue and bloody and the true definition of pain is only beginning to make itself clear.


Feeling a tug on his arm he was prepared to tell Shotgun or Athena or any of the asshats to fuck off. He was gonna make sure the bastard was good and proper dead. Eye for an eye and all that bullshit that came with it. Blue deserved better than for him to run and hide, Blue deserved better than to get fucking shot.


Except It wasn’t Shotgun, or Athena, or even Ana.


Stumbling backwards as the tug got fiercer his eyes locked onto the messy grin of Blue. A slight trickle of blood made its way down the tip of his ear but other than that he looked, fine. Better than fine actually. He looked alive.


With the third tug on his hand he and Blue took off.






On the other hand of things, Wesley could feel the blood bubble out of him as frantic pairs of hands tried their hardest to apply pressure to the twelve wounds.


The noise of the incoming ambulance seemed so small compared to everything else.