:: Dear Diary… I don’t like to take it in the back. ::
[https://66.media.tumblr.com/572f45ad3ccb6622a0d8a75591cbb043/tumblr_pnr1czw6jv1wqnuuso1_1280.pnj]
<< WARNING! An enemy has locked onto your head. Please Evade. Please Evade. >>
“Hello there sugar. Mind putting down that sweet little girl and stop pulling on her ears."
“…F**k, wh-when did you get behind me!?”
Pastrache felt like she messed up. First, she lost sight of her mission when she went blind with rage. Before she could stop herself, she was already lecturing, berating, and pulling the cheeks of the misbehaviing Lycan Girl. The same girl she was sent to rescue.
It was the complete opposite display of professionalism, compared to tactical exfiltration executed by Navy SEALS.
Because she was focused on punishing the little Lily Tiger who wanted to... drink milk... The Half-Elf failed her passive wisdom saving throw, and didn't realize the barrel of a rifle was touching the back of her skull. It was only when her notification screen that told her of the imminent threat.
... The second mistake she made, was the fact she had chased this little Werewolf Girl down a narrow alleway. So narrow that a certain companion had no way available to squeeze through and follow after her.
So, she was by herself... behind enemy lines......... yeah, bad move.
"It would help to ease my maternal instincts if you let that poor child go. She's only hungry, you should have indulged her."
"It's obvious you don't have the same lycan features as this little brat. So there is a good chance you're not the biological mother. Is there really any need to go Mama Bear over such a trivial matter?"
"Oh my. If she truly was my daughter, I wonder what lines would a charming werewolf man say to lower my guard... How raunchy."
"...Please don't paint a terrible image in my pure mind. I'm still single."
"Even if she isn't my child, I still treat that girl you're throwing around as my daughter. It would be in your best interest to release her, before I open a hole in the back of your brains. Some of the undead here find such a sight... attractive."
"...Sh*t."
The Half-Elf was shaking, worried more about the wierd fetishes that existed in these parts of the Undead Lands, than the fact she could be virtually killed in a single shot. Having her hands full by pulling at the Lycan Girl's face and ears, there was no way she could dodge, grab her Mosin-Nagant rifle, load the bullets, and fire at her enemy in a matter of 10 seconds.
Pastrache knew the moment she would released the Werewolf girl, even with the Half-Elf's ridiculous high Dexterity Score - she wouldn't make it past the first phase of dodge.
She'll just fall over across the ground with a sexy hole in the back of her head.
"G-goddess, I-I don't want to know what zombies and skeletons will do with the second hole in my skull... Please give me strength to block out such traumatic imagination."
"...How's this. To make this a fair fight, I'll give you a handicap☆."
"...What?"
Pastrache dropped the Werewolf Girl, letting the latter's body fall with a rubber ducky squeak. Taking her chance, the Half-Elf spun on her heels to see who was attacking her.
It was a tall woman.
Although her image was obscurred the Half-Elf could see how beautiful she was. Long hair as black as the night, naturally curled to make it billow like a slumbering thunder cloud. An elaborate blue dress that made her look like a waterfall in the desert born from a mirage. A wide brim hat curled back to give a Western feel, sleeves and shoulders flowing with dancing leather tassels. The reason why her image was obscurred was obvious.
The handicap meant turning her back on Pastrache Mooneye.
"A tarnations. The dust is ruining my mascara. Where did I put my mirror again?"
"...Wh...Hah!?"
As much as Pastrache wanted to move... she couldn't. She knew she wasn't put under any spell, or blasted with a wicked hex. Rather... what she was seeing stunned her brain too hard.
Because the woman with her back turned was busy trying to fix her make-up... in a hand mirror she pulled out from her pocket.
... She didn't look like she was going to take this fight seriously.
"...PULL!"
<< SKILL ACTIVATE! Quick Draw Lv. 8. Weapon Armed. >> << PASSIVE SKILL 'Dead Eye Shot' IN EFFECT. >> << FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! >>
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
*BANG!* *PTAAANG!*
"HA-HA! GET WRECKED MOTHER........father.......I....Where'd my gun go?"
Pastrache Mooneye felt something was wrong. It was wierd, she had the advantage, the enemy had her back turned. Not to mention, she increased her Quick Draw ability to the point where she could pull out her rifle at the ready in a matter of 0.5 second. She even updated her reactions to support it.
But she didn't understand, why her hands were squeezing empty air...As if she was 'acting' in a play without any propers.
"Shame. I thought you could impress me with a new skill. Maybe I shouldn't have bother giving you a handicap."
"Oh f**k, it's a trap."
The Half-Elf saw the reason why. She had indeed pulled out her weapon... but within that 0.3 second window, something ran faster and shot her Russian Rifle right out of her hands.
She could see a trail of smoke wafting off from the barrel of another rifle. It was a over-the-top double barreled weapon. Not as modern looking as the WW2 Russian weapon, and had more intricate engravings in the iron plating.
It also had a lever under the trigger...
And it was sitting right over the woman's slender shoulder... The butt of the rifle held in line with... the hand-sized mirror.
The Half-Elf could see the woman's grin in the reflection.
"... The h*ll!? Do you have auto-aim or something! You cheating little wh--"
"Now, now. No cursing in front of the children. You'll be a bad influence."
"Tch! Th-this is the worst situation possible!"
Pastrache was an adventurer, but she didn't have the same habits as them. That meant, carrying on them 'extra' set of weaponry in case they lose the one they relied on the most. At most, she had a dagger she could use to defend herself.
Which was in her backpack... which was in a T-34 Tank's crew compartment... which who was far away somewhere.
... What are the odds.
"D-don't come near me, I-I know J-Jeet K--Kun doh! I-I'll kick your @ss like a mule!"
"Dance☆."
"What?"
*BANG!* *BANG!*
"SON OF A B*TCH!"
"Na-ah-ah. No cursing please~☆"
Two more shots rang out in the backalley, hammering across the narrow walls. Two bursts of sand popped violently across the ground, half an inch away from Pastrache's toes. Of course the Half-Elf had to dance away from such a frightening stimulus.
And the woman with the mirror in her hand never once turned around to properly face her. She could only show how much she struggled to not giggle in the reflection of the mirror.
"F**k! F**k! M-my pink toe almost tore off!"
"Left☆."
*BANG!*
"D*MN IT! S-STOP PLAYING AROUND WITH MY FEET! PUT DOWN THE GUN AND FIGHT ME LIKE A REAL WOMAN!"
"Right.☆"
"Don't you d--"
*BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!*
"SH*T! Th-that clipped my finger nail! Th-that was too close to death! Help! Help! S-someone call the Royal Constabulary! Crabapple! Crabapple! Wh-where are you to keep the peace when I need you!?"
"I hate to say this sugar, but in this town were everyone is essentially the walking dead, no one can hear you scream. Either they're deaf or they'll pounce on that cute body and gobble you up.☆"
"OH DEAR GODDESS! D-DON'T LET THEM RAPE MY BRAINS OUT!"
"... So, any last words before I help you?"
"................N...not in the crotch... please."
"Okay~♥."
*Ka-chuk. BANG! BANG! BANG!*
"WHY THE H*LL DID I SAY SOMETHING SO STUPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID!?"
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"NELLO! NELLOOOOOO! WHERE ARE YOU MY BELOVED NELLO!? HELP ME! HELP MEEEEEE!"
Pastrache was rolling.
Not running, not diving, not dodging. She rolled, as hard as a barrel, fat cat, or even the wheel of a hamster cage. She moved as violently as possible to evade all possible bullet trajectory and kept bolting forward. She wasn't sure how far the shooter was, neither did she take her chance and look behind her.
But somehow... she felt the enemy didn't bother to chase after her at all.
"I still see you☆"
"TH-THE H*LL! I JUST TURNED FIVE CORNERS! DOES SHE HAVE A THIRD EYE OR SOMETHING!"
"You're rear end looks too big. You should cut down on the calories and midnight snacks sugar."
"I'LL FREAKING PUNCH--"
*BANG!* *CRACK* *BTOOOM!*
"NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE!"
Pastrache could feel it, the bullets whizzing past her like leaping hounds. She could see their aftertrails bouncing off metallic surfaces everywhere she ran. Whether it be the iron band of a sign frame, the chains that dangled from catwalks, to even long forgotten horseshoes that were half-buried in the ground.
Bouncing bullets... no, no. Magic Bullets.
And no matter how many times Pastrache glanced over her shoulder, she was the only one running away right now. No one was chasing after her.
"...Geh! I-is she using the reflection in the glass and reflective surfaces! Th-that's God level cheating right there!"
"It can't be helped. Vampires have a 100/100 perfect vision. It's very handy to notice even the shape of a fly when I look through 30 mirrors facing each other."
"THIS WORLD IS BROKEN!"
The Half-Elf yelped those words out and she did a tumble. She had to, or else the bullet she heard coming at her would have push into her spine, come out of her ribs, and through her solar plexus.
So there was only one thing to do...
"... Oh h*ll no, I'm not hiding in these barrels! I don't want to see what guts or body parts they store in there to eat later!"
*BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!*
"THIS IS TOTALLY UNFAIIIIIIIIIIIIR!"
And so continues side character Pastrache's adventure of misfortune.
"WHO THE H*LL IS SINGING OVER MY WOES!? SHUT UP!"
"Run, run, Rudolph. Santa is LEAVING town." [https://data.whicdn.com/images/206253826/original.gif]