Texas Blood: Difference between revisions
m
→top: replaced: … → ... (2)
(Created page with "“Oh shit! Duck!” shouted Andrews as the flying scrap of aluminum shrapnel flew over their heads. “I don’t even know where in the hell these guys came from,” his partner Benitez exclaimed, “This place was almost empty. There aren’t even any other entrances.” “Whatever. Just focus on shooting these dicks for now. We’ll worry about where their greasy asses came from later.” “Right. Split. You move East, I’ll cover.” “Got it.” Benitez tur...") |
m (→top: replaced: … → ... (2)) |
||
(4 intermediate revisions by 3 users not shown) | |||
Line 1:
Benitez turned from behind the crates they were hidden behind and began to fire his Beretta 9mm as rapidly as possible towards their attackers as Andrews made a run for the support beams of the old warehouse. Everything seemed to happen so slowly to Benitez; he could see the casings of the bullets fall to the ground; he could even read the stamps around the bottoms of them. As soon as his clip emptied, he retook his cover behind the crates.
Andrews took a brief assessment of the opposing gunfire to best pick his time to cover
Benitez motioned to Andrews to ask if the three enemies were still in the same place. Andrews nodded. As fast as Andrews blinked, Benitez was standing, moving, and firing the shotgun into the group of three that he was flanking. Perfect maneuver. They
They
Down.
Benitez was the first to wake in the dark, bare room. He looked around and found Andrews lying in a fetal position a few feet away from him. As Benitez began to move across the cold, concrete floor, the pain shot through his arm, into his head, and down his spine. He winced, gritted his teeth and inched over to Andrews. After checking his pulse and realizing Andrews was still alive, he began to look him over to see where he had been injured. There was a wedge of jagged metal stuck in between
A door opened suddenly. Benitez saw the outline of a tall man wearing a cowboy hat standing against the incoming light.
"Sheriff?"
Benitez was bleeding profusely from the mouth. His lips were completely busted opened and there were a few pieces of tooth embedded into them. He
Benitez looked up at the sheriff and the blood flowed from his mouth like a faucet that
Benitez prepared to fire another bloody mass from his lips when the sheriff slammed his face into the floor. Benitez looked up at the now standing sheriff only to have his face kicked again. The sheriff stomped on him repeatedly; calmly though. His face never showed anger; it only showed indifference. When he finished, he turned slowly and stepped outside the room.
{{by-cpwuser|Linkotan}}
[[Category:Deletion Log Refugees]]
[[Category:Bad Creepypasta]]
|