Pickle

You glared at the ecstatic man in the crowd of people, him not quite blending in. He had straight grown out black hair, in a half-up, half-down hairstyle. He had various piercings decorating his face and wore a long-sleeved black and white giraffe print shirt, paired with black leather pants. His face constantly wore a teasing and smug expression. You were leaning against a wall in the far end of the large and crowded room.

Your eyes peered as he taunted beach citizens, drowning in power. The rifle slung across his shoulder served as a threat, a reminder that he was untouchable — to anyone who dared to question the fact. He stuck his tongue out, getting uncomfortably close to anyone he pleased. He took pleasure in seeing them squirm in fear the moment he approached them.

As he continued his usual irritating behaviour, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the way your body seemed to react to him. The flutter in your stomach and warmth that spread through your cheeks. The urge that took over you to always keep him in your sight. He was reckless, you didn’t know why you felt responsible for ensuring nothing bad happened to him; that he didn’t irk the wrong person. You never even really interacted with him, despite eye contact across the room or meaningless flirty comments as you walked past him.

He was a militant, a young but dangerous one. He had no filter and no care in the world. The beach was intended to be a utopia for everyone, but it seemed like it was extraordinary for Niragi. It was where he thrived best, his vile and true self being accepted, or allowed at least. Nobody around to stop or tame him. You were one of the few female militants, but that didn’t mean for you to be underestimated. You were unreadable, and expressionless. Nobody could get into your heart or mind. Well, that’s what everyone thought.

Your attention was brought back to the crowd in front of you, when you noticed people were suspiciously whispering and shuffling. You clutched your gun and pushed yourself slightly off the wall, trying to decode what was happening. Then, you let your eyes drift back to Niragi’s oblivious and playful manner. For some reason, that sight gave you the impression he was going to fall victim to whatever the people were scheming.

As if your mind was read, a group of men suddenly jumped him. They used their limbs to knock him down, dropping Niragi roughly on his stomach. He resisted and attempted to use his gun, but they crushed his fingers and forced him to lose grip. ”You fuckers, I’m gonna fucking kill you all,” Niragi threatened, venom heard in his voice. “Holy shit, we got him. We can finally kill Niragi, nobody in this room could give a shit about him,” a man putting all his weight on Niragi’s back spoke. Niragi was violently squirming and trying to get out of their grip, but there were too many of them. He was enraged at the feeling of helplessness, it was a feeling far too familiar.

Just as a man snatched Niragi’s rifle off the ground and began navigating how to use it, gun shots echoed through the room. You appeared, forcing yourself through the crowd and without hesitance shooting a bullet through the man holding the rifle's skull. His body became limp against the velvet red carpet, his blood seeping into it. Gasps stretched throughout the room and the man holding Niragi down made a knowing expression before also being shot dead.

You wore a blank expression, aiming your gun at the other men, in a threatening manner. They raised their hands in the air and crawled back, clearly uninterested in going near Niragi and more focussed on not facing the very same fate as their acquaintances. Niragi had an in-awe look painted on his face as he stared at you. He gave a smirk, flashing a portion of his teeth, as he got back up and took hold of his rifle.

You began to speak, “Death to all traitors, that rule extends to attempting to harm an executive.” You glanced at Niragi who was already staring back, attempting to mask the relief you felt deep down, seeing him alive. You couldn’t explain why you saved the psychopath facing you at that moment. Couldn’t explain why you cared. You tried to play it off as following the rules, but the look on his face made it clear he was not thinking that. He was smirking and the bright lights in the room reflected off his sharp and dark eyes, causing a glimmer to appear. Had you just made a grave mistake — getting yourself involved with someone as unpredictable and manic as him?

All the citizens in the room obediently nodded, eyes meeting the ground as they collectively thought back to the image of the two men being shot dead. People started to leave the room. You remained standing in the centre of the room with a deadpan expression dressing your face, looking at the ground.

“It appears I’ve got a protector,” Niragi mumbled under his breath, making sure you heard and chuckling after delivering his statement. He strolled away, lightly whistling while simultaneously slipping his usual cold facade back into place.