Just another random writing exercise. Doesn’t mean anything or go anywhere. Except a bar, at the end. Spoiler alert.
Warning: Contains the F-bomb. Sensitive readers should avert their eyes.
George peered to his left, around the corner, slowly, as if moving slowly would make his gigantic pressure suit helmet less visible. Dust spattered from left to right. Once, twice. In a vacuum, he could see the bullets, but their impact was silent. He retreated from the corner. They couldn’t hit him here, and they were unlikely to change position. But then, neither could he.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot at since he arrived in Luna City. Nobody liked a P.I. snooping into their business. It was, however, his first firefight outside the dome. Just getting winged could make for a very bad day.
Just then, his sandwich buzzed in his pocket. More jets of dust burst to his left. One. Two. Three. His sandwich buzzed again.
Continue reading “A lethal weapon”