Wednesday, October 21, 2015

100 Words a Day 727

Smoke and noise filled the room. Crinkles was backed into a corner, struggling to see the hostile gunmen through the chaos. His companions were dead. Hawk had died in the hallway when the bomb went off. Crinkles had seen his head blown almost clean off. Glassjaw and Badger were on the floor in the room with him. He could see their boots, unmoving, from where he stood. There was no hope for them; he had seen them riddled with bullets.

He dove to the side, landing heavy on the ground, when a stream of bullets splintered the wall around him.

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