12-22-2006, 12:54 PM
Before Marine gave Disturbed the decanter, the familiar gargle of engine mechanics invaded his hearing. He paused and glanced towards the street. A semi-petite sports car sidled to the sidewalk, pulling up against the curb in front of his house, slowing until stopped.
The insignia on the car's door displayed the realty company who sold him the estate. When Marine noticed the driver, however, his blood turned hot. Shoving Disturbed aside he drew his Snub-nosed pistol and leveled it towards the driver. The driver's door flung open, the man spilling to the pavement as the first round punched into the windshield, lashing the headrest to pieces. Another shot obliterated the side mirror.
The High Marshall let the smoke clear the pistols barrel. From behind the car, he spied the crop of brown hair cut in an atrocious pattern. "Gadovin!" He snapped the pistol again, blowing out the back window in a symphony of breaking glass. "You better have a good reason for squeezing your arse face here again, after what you did last time!"
Peter Gadovin was the last man Marine wanted to see alive. The former soldier was apart of a disgurntled unit long since disbanded, who squandered thousands of bonds, implicated himself as authority, and worst of all, insulted everyone with his haircut, now scurried round the car for dear life.
His shrill voice paused the barrage of bullets. "I just came to give you your house keys you psycho!" Marine spied the checker-board hair duck under the safety of the sports car, then the glint of metal as it spiraled towards him and landed at his feet. "I feel sorry for your neighbors!"
The statement suprised him. He forgot about the wolf-man standing in the doorway of his household. Explanations later, the High Marshall thought. "Then you better run Gadovin, because you feel like one."
His final bullet punched a hole into the windshield, cracking it into splinters.
The driver's door flung open and closed. Peter Gadovin revealed himself breifly, to shove the car in reverse, throttling backward out of sight. Shattered glass and the mirror was left in his wake.
Marine holstered his pistol. He picked up the keys, turned heel to face Disturbed. "I promised to shoot him a new arsehole if I ever saw him again. But the good news is that I have the keys to my house."
The insignia on the car's door displayed the realty company who sold him the estate. When Marine noticed the driver, however, his blood turned hot. Shoving Disturbed aside he drew his Snub-nosed pistol and leveled it towards the driver. The driver's door flung open, the man spilling to the pavement as the first round punched into the windshield, lashing the headrest to pieces. Another shot obliterated the side mirror.
The High Marshall let the smoke clear the pistols barrel. From behind the car, he spied the crop of brown hair cut in an atrocious pattern. "Gadovin!" He snapped the pistol again, blowing out the back window in a symphony of breaking glass. "You better have a good reason for squeezing your arse face here again, after what you did last time!"
Peter Gadovin was the last man Marine wanted to see alive. The former soldier was apart of a disgurntled unit long since disbanded, who squandered thousands of bonds, implicated himself as authority, and worst of all, insulted everyone with his haircut, now scurried round the car for dear life.
His shrill voice paused the barrage of bullets. "I just came to give you your house keys you psycho!" Marine spied the checker-board hair duck under the safety of the sports car, then the glint of metal as it spiraled towards him and landed at his feet. "I feel sorry for your neighbors!"
The statement suprised him. He forgot about the wolf-man standing in the doorway of his household. Explanations later, the High Marshall thought. "Then you better run Gadovin, because you feel like one."
His final bullet punched a hole into the windshield, cracking it into splinters.
The driver's door flung open and closed. Peter Gadovin revealed himself breifly, to shove the car in reverse, throttling backward out of sight. Shattered glass and the mirror was left in his wake.
Marine holstered his pistol. He picked up the keys, turned heel to face Disturbed. "I promised to shoot him a new arsehole if I ever saw him again. But the good news is that I have the keys to my house."