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Matthew felt jostled around, a bit pained, and slightly nauseated by the acute pain that continued to shoot through him. Nonetheless, he kept calm and pressed his hand to the wound. He was covered in blood, and sorry to admit the the car's leather seating was probably stained. Samuel drew something from his pocket - a needle, wrapped in cloth as not to soil the fluid inside. Matthew shok his head, trying the back away, but when the back seat offered no escape he winced when the needle slipped into his artery. "Sorry mate, it's for the best." The drug took instant effect, the mobster's eyes fluttering before he curled up in the farthest corner of the back seat. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the wound was still open.
"Can you drive a little faster? He isn't gonna last for much longer."
"This is gay." Matthew chuckled, slung across the boy's arms. "...If you'd excuse my racism." Of all things he had said before when his life was on the line, that topped. Samuel suppressed a laugh and followed, trying to lighten the mood but failing horrifically.
Matthew craned his head to watch Xion brutally kill their enemies, while Sam's expression was aghast. The mobster pulled a crooked smile; and although he was in pain, it was certainly a pleasure to see his newfound enemy die a tragically graphic death.
"We could get a little help over here," Matt rasped, waving faux-playfully at the two. He winced as his muscles moved with each word. "I'm trying not to digest the bullet in my stomach, but with the amount of time you've spent I could've tried."
"He's coming, he's coming, hang in there buddy..." The guard whispered, hugging Matthew's body as if it would disappear at any moment. Sweat gathered on their foreheads, their hands shaking. Matthew ground his teeth together, forcing the tiniest smile on his face. His serpentine teeth didn't seem so daunting when he was in tears and reduced to whimpers.
"I f***ed up, mate."
And then, silence. The kind that lets you hear the beating of someone's heart, or even the sound of fabric shifting with each rise and fall of their chest. The mobster obliged willingly to Samuel's comfort, allowing him to brush locks of hair from his forehead and press his hand to the wound, despite the pain it caused. For a moment, it wasn't about keeping his boss alive. It was about saving his friend.
@bow and arrows;matthew and samuel are in an abandoned warehouse, and matt's been shot in the solar plexus. and there's a girl (i don't remember the character's name) who's currently regretting her... naughty behaviour x3
There was an eerie silence, the tension building to a peak. Then, a single gunshot rang theough the air. For one moment, everything was still. Matthew looked down at himself cautiously, a look of horror spread on his expression. From his middle came a spurt of blood, then another. His snow-bright shirt turned red. His breath came in strangled pants before he gave a wail, sinking to his knees and gripping his stomach as waves of agony coursed through him. "F- Fu- Sam-" The mobster could hardly form words as he gasped the little noises out, his grip around himself tight enough the tear the cloth of his shirt around the wound. The blood dripped into his lap and flowed to the floor. Eyes wide, he fell forward and forced himself into an instinctive fetal position, his voice still strangled as he gasped for help. Samuel watched in horror, dialing Killua with shaking hands. He fell to his knees before Matt, protectively covering the body (who was losing consciousness) and balancing the cell phone with his shoulder. There came no gunshots, no enemies. Only a horrifying silence and the mobster's helpless sobs. "Kill, Harley's down. Send a s***load of backup, now!"
"That's all? I think I'll use as much violence as necessary." He lifted the hem of his suit to reveal Butterfly's holster. "I work alone, Kill, and you know it." He looked to Samuel, who still held his revolver and held Killua's steady gaze. "I expect a raise from this, darling. If I'm not back in eight hours, send help without hesitation."
Samuel kept his head held low, walking behind Matthew in the pitch darkness. It had been an hour, ticking by with each mile they crossed. Knowing the path all too well, the mobster paused before a large door, already open a crack. He silently loaded his gun - the only sign that he was there was the soft click of the cylinder. He entered, the click of his heels echoing in the massive room. Heavily armed (with not only their handguns, but rifles slung over their shoulders) and adrenaline-high, the pair advanced, back to back. "We're gonna play a game of Russian roulette," The mobster hissed, his growl echoing off the walls. "Except for one thing -we'll be the only one without bullets in our heads. Any participants?"
With a short huff, the mobster steadied himself. "I still own a restaurant and earn hundreds of thousands in royalties. And my house in Loveleigh is live-able." he retorted, getting a small nudge from Sam. "Watch it boss, you're not the only one who'd be affected," Samuel whispered. Matthew slid his gun back into its holster. The mobster regained his composure and strode to Killua. "You want a cig? Wine? Let's sit down and talk about this."
Matthew unlocked the door, his fingers leaving his temples only to turn the knob. With a small sigh he flicked on the lights, seeing nothing unusual. Samuel, though, stopped short and barred the doorway with his arm. "Matt, it isn't normally this quiet. How about I go ahead and turn the other lights on?" Too exhausted to argue, Matthew let his bodyguard slip past, drawing his gun in response. Staring straight at them was their colleague, Killua. The standoff was daunting, with Matthew pointing the gun at the man's head, with the latter gripping a knife. Samuel had pulled a small revolver and held it warily.
"Did I say you could speak?" he growled, teeth gritted. He pinched the bridge on his nose and sat back down again. "...Look, this isn't the time. Why don't you make use of yourself and check in with Xion or something? Just... Do something that doesn't involve talking to me." He strode to the door, the handle complying with his hand in a gentle click. In the long hall, a familiar face appeared beside him. "Hello, Matt- I mean, Mr. Harley." Samuel smiled nervously, meeting his pace. When no response came, his expression hardened. "You've been talking with... Roxas, I believe. You've got high blood pressure and anxiety... His demeanor affects your health uniquely." Matthew gave a curt nod, rubbing the bridge of his nose with every stride. He pressed a button and the elevator opened, the two stepping inside. Leaning heavily against the wall, Matthew pressed a few buttons and the steady drop began. Samuel rubbed his hands together. "You should sleep... Or something. Try tea, or meditate." Matthew gave him a nasty frown, and the latter shut himself up.