A hail of gunfire, muzzle-flash lighting up the night.

"Quick, take these," says the man in the dark shades.

"What are they?," I ask, as I pop the pills.

"Neuro-muscular accelerant. Feel free to dodge the bullets, but don't touch anything".

After a queasy feeling, everything slows down. All the noises drop a couple of octaves. I can see the bullets flying at us. It is ridiculously easy to dodge them. We continue to run down the sidewalk, towards the car, while bullets fly towards us from all directions.

Suddenly, one of the Order's men appears from the doorway of what appears to be a 7-11. Instinctively, I hit his face with my right hand, before the thug could raise his gun towards the man in the dark shades. The thug falls, like everything else, in slow motion.

After an agonizingly long run, we finally reach the car. The man in the dark shades hits something on his keychain, which simultaneously opens the doors, and starts the engine. I get into the passenger seat, and everything starts to speed up to normal again. We drive off.

"Didn't I tell you to not ouch anything?"

I look at my right arm, which is bent at weird angles. I faint.

I regain consciousness in some sort of hospital, with an air pipe sticking out of my right nostril.


fhayashi's jazzing-up Webster 1913 project.

Air" pipe` (#).

A pipe for the passage of air; esp. a ventilating pipe.

 

© Webster 1913.

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