Boom(erang)! Fuck you Bruce Willis

Before I could say shit, the lights went out, the power was gone for the whole damn building.
That left one play: stairs. Which meant facing those bastards in tight quarters, outgunned, and with Aya—who I’d bet my ass never fired a gun in her fucking life.

“Okay… okay… no... no problem… we got this…” I muttered, rubbing my hair with the pistol grip. “Cher.”

“Yeah?” she asked, twirling her hair, still sprawled on the bed. Even in the dark, I could tell her eyes were shut. Fucking idiot was napping now.

“You fucked him?”

“Relevant? I mean… we’re about to get blasted to pieces, who the fuck cares?”

“Cher, did you fuck that Chad?” I asked again.

Yeah, I was hung up on it—got a problem? Everyone handles stress their way. I ain’t judging folks who chop their hair at 3 a.m. over an existential meltdown.

“Uuh… just… a little.”

“What the fuck’s ‘just a little’?”

“Didn’t cum, so it doesn’t count…” she said, opening her eyes.

“You fucked him raw?”

"I'm always raw."

"I mean if you used protection, goddammit!"

“Hiro, I don’t need protection, I can handle myself,” she said, sitting up like I’d insulted her.

“I meant a fucking cond—”

“Can you two shut the fuck up!? You’re really talking this now!? What the fuck’s wrong with you, you damn psychos!?” Yeah, Aya was having a full-on freakout, building a mini barricade with the Molotovs.

Someone should tell her that ain’t protection—it’s a fucking invite to be the Human Torch. But I wasn’t teaching that class tonight.
Still… this wasn’t the same Aya I saw in the car. Misread her?
How bad was I fucking this up? Worse—how much was I underestimating Ashley?

“Chill the hell out… we’ve been in worse…” I said.

“You know that’s bullshit,” Cher laughed. “We’re fucked right up the ass.”

“Then what the fu—”

“Aya, shut it or I swear I’ll snap your neck.”

“Hiro!” she tried shouting over me.

“Shut it, I don’t give a fuck—equal rights here. I’m a goddamn defender of gender equality, everyone gets the same treatment.” I cracked the door open.

Pitch-black hallway, no windows, fucking unreal a place like this lacks emergency lights.
I suppose rich people can see in the dark or some shit like that.

This time there was no buzz—it was like hail on a tin roof, one of those that seem to never finish.
Like Chad…
Okay, sorry, getting carried away. I mean, from their position, even with their precision, we weren’t in the line of fire.
So, one plus one equals two: obvious as fuck.

“Aya, quit screwing around and toss me the bottles.” I holstered one pistol.

“Finally got a brainwave, huh?” Cher said, watching bottles fly from Aya to me.

“Now what?” Aya asked, chucking them like shit, but I couldn’t say anything about it. Haven’t seen fear like that in a while… well, not from someone not about to eat a bullet from Cher or me, redundant as that sounds.

“Haa… they’re flushing us out…” Cher said, crossing her legs.

“Fucking classic,” I replied. “Go down, we’re dead… they come up, same deal, but least we take a few with us, right?”

“How the fuck do you accept this so casually?” Aya stammered, staring at us both.

“Well…”

“‘Cause fighting the inevitable’s the point,” Cher cut me off. “Guess I’ll cover your back—someone’s gotta save that roundy ass.” She slid off the bed, lazy as a bear waking from hibernation.

“What if they lob something?”

“No. No rocket launchers, grenades don’t reach twelve floors… and if they had that or wanted to blow us up, they’d’ve done it,” I said, stepping out with the bottles. “Ashley wants face-to-face… that gives us some time.”

“They’re never this quiet…” Cher said, tucking two bottles into the hallway chandelier. “Maybe they stayed downstairs.”

“You think?” I cracked the stairwell door and ate a round of bullets that nearly sent me to live with my dead parents. “Fuck my entire existence, they’re down there.” I slammed it shut.

“Your dumbass face!” Cher doubled over laughing. “Of course they’re waiting, and you stick your head out.”

“Almost got me killed, idiot!” I set the remaining bottles by the door. “Eh… but you almost shat yourself.”

“Not even a little,” I lied.

If I had this gut feeling all night, how the fuck didn’t I see it?
Didn’t even hear it? How fast did it happen?
Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.
Dizziness hit fast, didn’t need to look down, just touched my gut. Soaked.

“Heh… shit…” I muttered, staring at my blood-drenched hand.

“Oi! Sorry, mate, sorry… meant to hit ya spine, reckon it’s too bloody dark—missed by a coupla' fingers,” that voice, folks—Ashley. “Ya pack o’ drongos… didn’t think, eh, maybe the call wasn’t from downstairs? Really miss a detail that fuckin’ stupid, Hiro?”

Cher and I instinctively aimed at someone already aiming at us.

Just Ashley and two thugs, but in a tight space... everything that could go wrong would.
Worse, I was by the door, Cher halfway down the hall.
Did we fall for the shitty cliché this time?
Didn’t even need to shoot—just hit the bottles, and we’re that flaming meat dish I can’t name.

Fuck you, Bruce Willis.

“How ‘bout ya drop the gun, sheila? Pointin’ at me’s pointless, your bloke’s leakin’ like a cracked Kool-Aid jug,” Ashley said, stifling a laugh with her hand.

Cher’s eyes flicked from her to my bleeding wound. “He's not my boyfriend.”

“Just a figure o’ speech, darlin'”

“A what of what?”

Ashley went quiet, head tilted, staring. “Oi, Hiro, what kinda dimwit writes her lines? Gotta talk to her like she’s a bloody galah or what?”

“Haa… you get used to it,” I said, slumping against the door. Not scared, just weak—couldn’t stand on my own… no clue how long I had until the lights that went out were mine. “Fine… let’s all go to fucking hell then.” I aimed at her, grabbing the second pistol from my belt.

“Strewth! Akimbo, ya' mad bastard! Fuckin’ cinema lover!” Ashley laughed but didn't raise her gun again.