Like Getting Sued By Katy Perry

My arms were screaming, barely holding the aim on Ashley, knees starting to buckle.

“Oi, Hiro… poor bugger…” she said, mocking me with a finger to her bottom lip. “Don’t wanna cark it, mate… swear that shot wasn’t on purpose—well, yeah, it was, but not to bleed ya dry, just wanted ya in a wheelchair. Reckon how funny it’d be writin' ya, draggin’ this yarn with you rollin’ ‘round?” She waved her gun, barely containing her laugh.

“Huh? Who's writing about what?” Sick fucking cryptic kangaroo.

“Crikey, ya losin’ brain cells through that bloody hole too? No dramas… he sheila I do wanna waste is this one.” She stepped toward Cher, the barrel of her gun connected like a kiss against her forehead.

“Cher, drop the fucking gun...” I nearly shouted, seeing her finger tighten on the trigger. Didn’t matter who shot first—this wasn’t gonna end pretty.

Okay, stay cool—what the fuck do you do in a shitshow like this?
How bad did I fuck up?
Could offer a trade and take Cher’s bullets myself but knowing her she’d probably drag me back from the afterlife to bash my bones. And there were still her two thugs…
Though… now I think about it, no tactical gear, no vests.
Even in this dim light, their suits looked tight as hell... those shirt buttons seemed ready to pop if they flexed too hard.

I slid down the wall to the floor. “Hey, Ashley, mind if I try stop the bleeding a bit? You’re loving this drama as far as I can see...”

“Do what ya want, mate. Just mullin’ whether to turn this sheila into swiss cheese or cart her off for… everythin’, and I mean the whole bloody dictionary…” she said, smiling from ear to ear.

“Can I borrow one of your dudes then?” I asked, setting one pistol down.

“Help yaself. None of ‘em know jack ‘bout first aid.”

Gotta say, end justifies the means. Desperate times, desperate measures, you know, all that cliché shit.

“Hey… blondie…” I nodded, lifting my shirt. “Gonna sound real forward, but I need you to stick it in…”

Swear, if Ashley’s eyebrows weren’t glued to her face, they’d’ve shot through the ceiling. She was still aiming at Cher, but her eyes were locked on me.

“Oi, Rico, move it! Didn’t ya hear? He’s practically beggin’ for it, don’t keep him waitin’, chop-chop!” she said, snapping her fingers. Suspiciously, the guy didn’t hesitate.

Maybe he feared Ashley.
Maybe, folks, ‘cause we’re back to math: one plus one equals two.
He crouched over me and… shit, dude was jacked, but that’s not the point.

I felt his finger circling my wound.“Come on…” I said, faking a gasp. “Need it inside me…” I grabbed his hand, guiding his finger into the bullet hole. Yeah, I moaned on purpose. Don’t judge, alright? I was just trying to survive.“Come on, a little deeper… keep it there…” I murmured, my free hand was slowly creeping up his arm. “Feel the bullet in there?”

Two plus two equals four.
Ashley was hooked—more focused on me and her thug than shooting Cher.
Obvious as fuck at this point: her face flushing or the drool practically dripping.

“Y-Yeah… like that… leave it in…” My hand traced his arm and went up to his collarbone, I kept the movements slow right up to his cheek. “What’d… you say your name was?”

Ashley wasn’t even glancing at Cher, yeah the gun was still up, but she was leaning our way, eating up the show.
Cher, though… her face screamed if we got out, she’d kick my ass so hard every bullet in me would fly out.

“R-Rico…” he exhaled, pressing my hand harder to his cheek. “Name’s Rico…” He leaned closer.

I seriously hope you sick fucks are enjoying this 'cause I ain’t doing it again.
So four plus two equals six, like the song… or some shit.

“I think…” I pressed my lips to his, parting them with my tongue. Yeah, nobody in your damn life’s gonna kiss you like I kissed this guy.

“Fuck me dead house mouse, you seein’ this? Bloody hell, you fucking seein’ this?” Ashley shoved Cher with her barrel, like she forgot why she came here to begin with. “This is straight-up porno, and I’m front row! Oi, ya nong, film this—I want it for later, now!” she was almost barking at the other thug, snapping her fingers like an annoyed customer.

I tapped my pistol’s edge twice on the floor, dumb, but Cher and I had a code, did I mentioned it before? No? Well... maybe cause no need to spell it out until now.

“Think I’ll remember your name…” I whispered, breaking the kiss.

Before he could answer, I jammed the barrel under his jaw and pulled the trigger. First had Rico inside me, now I was covered in him, fucking ironic.
His body didn’t hit the ground before I emptied the mag into the other guy.

By the time Ashley snapped back from her porno fever dream, Cher already had her 1911 to her temple. “You flamin’ mongrels! Keep fuckin’ me over, eh…” Ashley froze feeling the gun.

“Aah… think I only watch action flicks? I’m a romance fanboy and this is fucking Nothinghill.” I grabbed my other pistol, shot Rico’s hand, he was still warm tho. Needed something to plug the bleeding and his finger made more sense than dragging his damn corpse.

“What, ya gonna blow me skull out and call it a day? That bog-standard? Or buy your escape usin’ me as a hostage?” Ashley dropped her gun, and raised her hands. “When my boys rock up—and they fucking will—they’ll rip ya new arseholes from arse to neck.”

“You know that’s biologically impossible without killing us in the process,” Cher said, pressing the barrel harder like she was pissed off.

“Not bein’ literal, ya brain-dead bogan!” Ashley snapped, looking at Cher like she was a brain operating under a single neuron.

“Something… I’ll figure out something…” I muttered, eyeing Rico’s corpse. “Heh… shit, his shirt buttons really popped…”