Paco Valdez
AM
"I ain't going," You tell them flatly.
Jorge looks at you like you're stupid and Claire's jaw drops. Jose just stares impassively at you.
"I don't think you understand," Jorge begins.
"No," You say, interrupting, "I don't think you understand. I am not going anywhere."
Jorge looks at the big Mexican. "Take him," he orders.
Jose walks up behind you and grabs hold of your shoulder as you rise to your feet. You lean in and pound a heavy fist into his thick jaw, knocking him back a step where most men would have fallen.
His dark brow furrows and anger is evident in his eyes as he steps forward swinging in with a fist the size of your head. He is strong to be sure, but his size makes him slow and you duck under the blow like a prize fighter taking on an amateur. You strike back with a heavy fist to his stomach that you hoped would double him over. In reality you punch did little more than give him an opportunity to connect with a fist to your face. You stumble backwards from the impact, falling over the chair to the ground and rolling to your feet.
You find yourself standing beside Claire, and you make to grab hold of her, intending to use her as a shield, but when your hand grabs her shoulder you feel a stabbing pain enter your side. You look down as Claire withdraws the bloody knife from your ribs. "You should've just got out of town when you had the chance," She tells you as you fall to your knees. You lifeblood flows from the wound like a river of gore. You begin hacking and choking on the plasma which drips into your lungs. Things start to go very dim for you as you vomit up the blood in your stomach, and vainly attempt to pull in breaths of air that gargles with blood and let out a low whistle as it exits through your wound.
You lay face first on the ground, a pool of blood spreading about you. How long will it be, you wonder as your body numbs. How long until it finally ends?
"I ain't going," You tell them flatly.
Jorge looks at you like you're stupid and Claire's jaw drops. Jose just stares impassively at you.
"I don't think you understand," Jorge begins.
"No," You say, interrupting, "I don't think you understand. I am not going anywhere."
Jorge looks at the big Mexican. "Take him," he orders.
Jose walks up behind you and grabs hold of your shoulder as you rise to your feet. You lean in and pound a heavy fist into his thick jaw, knocking him back a step where most men would have fallen.
His dark brow furrows and anger is evident in his eyes as he steps forward swinging in with a fist the size of your head. He is strong to be sure, but his size makes him slow and you duck under the blow like a prize fighter taking on an amateur. You strike back with a heavy fist to his stomach that you hoped would double him over. In reality you punch did little more than give him an opportunity to connect with a fist to your face. You stumble backwards from the impact, falling over the chair to the ground and rolling to your feet.
You find yourself standing beside Claire, and you make to grab hold of her, intending to use her as a shield, but when your hand grabs her shoulder you feel a stabbing pain enter your side. You look down as Claire withdraws the bloody knife from your ribs. "You should've just got out of town when you had the chance," She tells you as you fall to your knees. You lifeblood flows from the wound like a river of gore. You begin hacking and choking on the plasma which drips into your lungs. Things start to go very dim for you as you vomit up the blood in your stomach, and vainly attempt to pull in breaths of air that gargles with blood and let out a low whistle as it exits through your wound.
You lay face first on the ground, a pool of blood spreading about you. How long will it be, you wonder as your body numbs. How long until it finally ends?
