Erdaron

The gun laughs, spitting bullets. The shooter grins; thick smoke pours over his lips. The whole thing is a sick joke, devil's dance, see. It happens fast, too fast for anyone involved to think, but everything is in a well-established sequence… BANG… BANG-BANG… step… step… step… BANG. He stumbles forward, on the first bullet, inhales deeply. Everything rings – the blast, the suddenly short breath, the overwhelming shock, like half your body got torn away. He can feel that this is over. This is not a stray bullet. This gun is here to see him through to the end. So he starts laughing, gurgles blood and the last of his breath. Violence of the b