Kamiajuntu's Randomness

“Come on, dude, what are you waiting for? Just finish the kid so we can get their tank and get out of here.” called a slightly muffled voice from behind him, annoyed with how long a ‘simple’ task was taking. The male holding the weapon stood still, still not pulling the trigger, before he shakily turned his head towards his ‘companions’; his green eyes never leaving the child’s form stuck in the trap.

“C-can’t we just…you know…n-negotiate with them?” he squeaked out to the four masked figures behind him, “O-or something?”

“Negotiate?” another voice repeated, huffing in amusement, “The brat will die without the tank anyway.” He knew that. Everybody knew that. Why did he even ask? He’s got a mask and tank that’s supplying him with breathable air. “It would be slow and painful, so you’d be doing ’em a favor by givin’ ’em a quick death.” Michel’s hand shook more, a war raging inside his head. Was he really willing to go this far? For food? For shelter? For protection?

“N-no.”

“I’m sorry what?” the second voice popped up, rage seeping into his tone.

“No.” Michel repeated, dropping his gun to thread his fingers in his curly orange hair, “I can’t do this.”

“And why pray tell, can you not?” a third voice rang, more feminine than the other two. The ginger spun around to view his ‘companions’ fully. The owner of the first voice, Alex, was a teen much like himself. He was leaning against the wall in a stance that screamed, ‘I’m so done with this.’ The second voice, Hector, stood upright with his arms crossed, irritation coming off him in waves. Phoebe, the feminine voice, stood with arms crossed and her hip cocked to her right. The fourth member stayed behind them, fiddling with a device. All four had masks that covered their whole face and cloaks that covered their entire body, but that didn’t hide the weapons they carried on their person.

“I don’t want to kill a kid before I die.” The teen confessed, causing the others to become annoyed.

“Oh my gosh, you can’t seriously still be going on about that.” Alex groaned.

“B-but we’re in h-his territory!” Michel exclaimed, panic seeping into his voice “He’ll kill us in an instant!”

“Impossible,” the final member stated, their voice giving nothing away about their gender, “He’s not real. And even if he was, this can’t be his territory. My invention can reveal any one of them, and it shows that there are none for miles. It has never been wrong.” Alex groaned before pulling out his gun and aiming at the child, who tensed along with Michel.

“We don’t have time for this.” He groaned, finger on the trigger. Michel acted on instinct.

Before the other teen pulled the trigger, the ginger ran at Alex and shoved the gun towards the sky. The bullet flew into the air before three more flew at him—two in the left leg, one in the lower abdomen, nothing instantly fatal. A pained cry erupted from the teen as he collapsed to the ground. It hurt so much. He knew it would hurt, but not this much. The child cried out in anguish as their savior fell, unable to do anything else.

“You shouldn’t have done that, you little brat.” the large man stated, stomping over to the downed teen and yanking him up by the front of his shirt, which was rapidly turning red. Pain flashed through Michel’s body as his wounds shifted, his vision becoming blurry “You’re gonna die in this ally like the little sissy you are. An’ we’re gonna take that tank of yers.” Hector spat.

“B-but,” the ginger weakly stuttered, “w-w-we’re all go-going to d-d-die a-any-“

“ARG! GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL YOU WASTE OF CLEAN AIR!!!” the man roared in the ginger’s face, “HE IS JUST A RUMOR!!! HE DOESN’T EXI-” A sickening crack echoed through the ally. Every head snapped towards the sound; Michel felt lightheaded from the movement. Through his hazed sight, the teen could make out the body of the fourth member slumped against the wall, lifeless. Their head squished like a grape between the wall and a club, leaving a splash of red on both. He could make out the fuzzy silhouette of the attacker, it’s cat-like ears standing out. It was one of them. Michel’s heart sped up. When he noticed the white fur, his heart stopped.

It was HIM.

“HOLY CRAP!!! HE’S REAL!!!” Alex’s scream broke the silence as he aimed his gun at the living rumor, snapping the others out of their shock. Hector released the ginger in favor of pulling out his weapon, letting the teen’s head bash against the cement floor. The pain that flashed through Michel’s head wasn’t as excruciating as the bullet wounds, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t agony. His sight blurred to a haze of white and brown as his ears rang, leaving him to his pain and thoughts.

It’s him. It had to be him! The one of them that chose no side. The one of them that can kill you in an instant. The one that no one survives an encounter with. They were dead, no ‘ifs’, ‘ands’, or ‘buts’ about it, their death is guaranteed. As the ringing faded, Michel could hear the sounds of gunfire, accompanied by another crack. Painfully turning his head back to the child still stuck in the bear trap, the teen dragged himself to the caught leg. If he was going to die here, whether by blood loss or a living myth, he’s going to make sure the kid at least had a shot at escaping. The third crack, much closer to them, only pushed him to go faster.

Shakily, his blood-covered hands grasped the ends of the trap, causing the child to flinch. They snapped their gaze on him instead of the massacre happening in front of them. Using as much strength as his feeble limbs could muster, he slowly pushed the ends of the trap apart, just enough for the kid to pull their leg out before letting the trap snap shut. The kid stared at him for a second before frantically limping out the alleyway, leaving their savior with the all-too-real rumor as a final crack rang through the air, and the gunfire ceased.

Silence.

Michel couldn’t hear anything other than his ragged breathing. The ginger shakily pushed himself up before he propped himself against the wall. The world spun at the action as darkness crept in from the corners of his vision. Raising his head, he caught the blurry sight in front of him.

Four brown blobs were scattered around the alley, each splashed with red and closer than the last. No doubt they were bodies. Standing over the closest one was a fuzzy white figure, also covered in red. Michel’s sight became clear for a second, allowing him to see the singular purple eye staring right at him.

Oh yeah, that’s him. That’s Goose.

He’s screwed.