As I walk down a quaint street, a pleasant breeze blows through the streets, trees line the trash-free streets, and happy families stroll together.
Contrasting most of the other cozy-looking homes, the address on the note card reveals a depressing-looking rectangular house sticking out like a sore thumb. With the blinds down and no signs of life within, I cautiously sidestep up to the door.
Knocking twice, I prepare to run in case the ominous house is an accurate red flag for its owner.
A tired looking black haired woman walks up to the door. Her gray tactical hoodie encases her large breasts, and her black leggings squish against her thighs as the holstered Glock 17 is strapped around her thigh.
Her black hair is tied into a long, singular braid as it sways behind her. The underside of her hair is dark blue, with her long bangs trailing up to two hair intakes.
"Um... are you Folie Francais?"
She raises an eyebrow. "My squadron calls me Manta. So whose asking?"
"Alright, Manta, I know this is going to sound insane bu-"
Her eyes inspect me, making their way down, her ruby red eyes widen.
Jumping back, she whips out her pistol, aiming it at me.
"HANDS IN THE AIR!"
"Eh?"
"HANDS! DO NOT REACH FOR YOUR WEAPON!"
Slowly, I begin to raise my hands.
"Uh... I think there's been a mis-"
"I see that weapon! Walking up to my door to assassinate the ace officer like Paul Blart!"
"What are you even talking about? I don't even have anything."
Her eyes narrow as she maintains her aim.
I begin to reach down to show that my pockets are empty. "Se-"
*BANG! BANG!*
Firing two rounds into either shoulder, my arms fall to their side.
Biting my lip, I cry out. "FUCK!"
"Nice try, stupid criminal. But I have the fastest draw in the west."
We live in the fucking north. (;_;)
With watery eyes, I give her a look of pleading of confusion. "Why... The SHIT, did you just shoot me!?!"
"I saw you reaching for that Desert Eagle."
"I don't even own a gun! But you're making me feel like I should, just to protect myself from you!"
"Your smooth talking won't work on me, fool, give me one reason not to shoot you, criminal."
"BECAUSE IM A FUCKING UNAMRED MAN!?" shimmying my flopping arms I shout. "Quite literally!" I'm starting to lose my mind.
"Unarmed, well, we'll have to see about that."
With narrow eyes, she walks over, never loosening her aimed gun.
Standing beside me, she checks my pockets only to find them empty.
"Where are you hiding that gun, criminal scum?"
Her hand grazes the shaft of my penis causing me to lurch forward crossing my legs. "What the shit!? Thats my dick!"
"STOP MOVING!" Aiming her gun at my head, she commands.
Angerly biting my cheek, I stand still as my eyes water.
Cuatiously she pulls down my pants her eyes widening as my dick flops out.
"AH! A, pocket snake!"
Aiming her gun at my dick my eyes widen.
"Wait! Wait! Please don't shoot it!" It's like negotiating with a snapping turtle.
Grabbing my cock she holds it as though restraining a criminal.
"What?! Its your penis!? What's it doing down there!?"
"Where else would it be?"
My dick twitches.
She gasps. "Are you sexually harassing me?! Dad always warned me about pervs like you."
(-_-) Standing there neither of my arms are functioning and shes the one who still has her hand on my dick.
"You cannot have my virginity! Theft is wrong, you criminal!"
"Motifs of my life will likely disappoint you."
"I don't like his music! So he's already disappointed me."
Is she talking about Mozart?
Holstering her pistol, she looks at me. "So, what's your name,e weirdo?"
"Graves. And your Folie Francais."
Her eyes narrow. "How do you know that?!"
"It was the Garden of Eden's... file."
"Eh? I'm not big into religion, but I already promised I wouldn't eat the apple."
"The hotel."
"Oh."
"So why was a police officer looking for apartments there?"
"Twas a sting operation, its name may be deceiving, but you will be relieved to know there are no bees. Apparently, it's not where we send a nest of trained wasps after the criminal."
"...noted..."
"Oh! Then there was also that time on the rooftop."
"On...the roof?"
"Yeah, I accidentally shot you in the throat when that dude had you hostage."
Taking a superhuman inhale, I attempt to restrict my confusion, anger, and bewilderment from an unfiltered release.
"...THAT WAS YOU!?"
Giving me a thoughtless expression, she smiles. "Yep yep."
"So, despite fucking up a hostage situation in the worst way possible, the police said: yea this person should continue protecting the streets and its people?"
"Well, I kinda got put on temporary leave... something about rules and not shooting people. I don't know, they used a lot of fancy words that went over my head. My boss was also yelling at me, so it was hard to hear over my tears."
"That's concerning for so many reasons."
"But, don't worry, once I show them how trustworthy I am, I'll be back on the streets protecting you common folk."
"I wouldn't trust you with a colored pencil and a piece of paper."
This entire time shes been holding my dick, playing with it to match her theatrical movements.
"So how long are you going to playing with my penis?"
She tilts her head. "Oh." letting go of my dick it remains at attention "It felt warm." Her eyes narrow. "I still don't get what your Willie is doing down there."
It seems my arms have healed as I've gained movement in my shoulders once more. I wince, pulling up my pants. "Where else have you seen a guys dick?"
"Well, this was only the second time, the first was a drug case, some guys girlfriend chopped off his dick, so when we stormed in I accidently stepped on the wormy thing."
Standing there, my jaw hangs open in disbelief, disgust, and partially wincing as I imagine... that.
"...Okay... well don't take that as a reference and cut mine."
"Kay, so you're saying it's not a friction-based connection, like a Lego? Just replace them when you use them up."
"Wha- what even? Did your parents never give you... The talk?"
She tilts her head. "?, I talk to my parents all the time."
Clearly not enough.
She points with an exclamation. "But, you ARE supposed to cut it off like corn. I know THAT as a fact."
I'm getting a headache talking to this woman.
"No, no, and no to your next question."
Her eyebrows widen as she suspiciously nods, slowly sheathing her knife.
If I'm gonna die today, it's definitely going to be by the hands of this woman.
Walking toward the kitchen, she stretches. "Well, can I get you something to eat?"
"Am I allowed to move? Or are you going to shoot me?"
She pauses, genuinely thinking about it. "...no?"
No to what?
Marching towards my grave, I walk through the house, following her to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, she presents: a box of cereal... for some reason, a half-drunk beer, a passport, and... one shoe.
To think she's the type of person allowed to kill for a paycheck.
"You know, I'm feeling a little guilty for shooting you, so feel free to have whichever you want."
"I think I'll starve."
There's a crack of a thud as something slams against the door.
The door suddenly slams open.
"Tie up the bitch! Don't kill her, we're gonna take our time for what she did to Tuco."
Three masked guys make their way through the front door
Standing in the kitchen, our eyes widen.
She pulls me into hiding.
Her expression softens, leaning in, she whispers.
"Go out through the back door."
"What about you?"
"I'll fight them off. This has nothing to do with you. They're probably here because I was a part of the team that arrested their boss."
She loses any air-headed expression as she gives me the warmest smile. A smile as if she knew she was going to die, even so, she wanted to ensure my survival.
It nearly broke my heart.
Taking a breath, the footsteps begin to approach closer.
"No, you go..."
"But why wo-"
"Then flank back in through the front door."
"Eh... wh-"
"Just do it. This plan is gonna be sick." If it works.
"This really doesn't seem sm-"
"WE KNOW YOUR HERE BITCH!"
Grabbing the knife from her sheath pocket, her eyes widen.
Grinning, I push her towards the door.
With a concerned expression, she obliges. Quietly opening the door before carefully clicking it closed.
The pair of footsteps approaches
My heart is racing, and my head is a jumble.
One of the bald guys walks through the doorframe to the kitchen.
In a panic, I grab him, stabbing into his head, but it's not like the movies!
The skull is too fucking thick!?
He cries out as his head bleeds.
Shit!
Panicking I just slit his throat.
Facing me, his eyes widen as he claws at his throat.
With a gurgled cry, the man falls to the ground.
The other two turn.
"Hector!"
"FUCKING BASTARD!"
The remaining two fire in my direction.
Dropping to my stomach, the bullets rip through the wall above me.
Despite dying 3 times already, this is fucking terrifying!
Crawling towards the corpse of the first guy, my hoodie sleeves soak up his blood, I yank the pistol from under his corpse.
I begin to scream out, which was pretty easy to do if I simply visualize yesterday and having my skin melted by oil.
"PLEASE! DON'T SHOOT! I'M SORRY, I WAS SCARED! PLEASE! I- I DON'T HAVE A WEAPON! JUST LET ME LIVE!"
It seems to have worked as one of the guys approaches the kitchen with his gun aimed toward the ground
Jumping out from the corner I smirk.
"Whomp whomp."
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Firing three shots I manage to hit the man square in the chest.
One last guy!
I kinda feel like Wohn Jick!
And I know I shouldnt be saying this after killing two people, but this feels amazin-
*BANG!*