You’ll curse yourself for it, but you stay where you are.

Marcus has a big dumb smile on his face as he comes around the back of the car and opens the trunk, searching for the rope as you crouch, still hidden by the back door.

You take out your machete and take a breath.

“Eyes sideways, fucko,” you snarl quietly.

Marcus frowns and looks down to see your covered face. Before he even registers it, you leap up, slamming a hand over his mouth and turning down; slamming him down hard against the ground.

His screams are muffled against your palm; hands scrambling for the pistol on his belt. Liquidly, you raise the machete above your head and bring it down hard against his throat.

Once. Twice. Still twitching. Thrice.

You lift your blood-slicked blade from his flesh and he grabs weakly at it, any noise he might have made reduced to gurgling red in his mouth. Then the hands fall away and glassy eyes stare up at the sky sightlessly.

You stare at him for a moment, then glance up at your blade. Clean as a kill could be. Michin would be proud.

Slowly, you stand up, back arched over the trunk and risking a glance at the last bandit.

He’s not aware of anything; lost in his lust. The girl’s shirt is in tatters by this point; one of his hands squeezing at her breast and his tongue on her face; her struggles and screams doing nothing to move the big man away.

You lip curls in distaste under your scarf and you return the machete to its sheath; reaching for your rifle as you step out from behind the car.

Your footsteps are soft as you inch closer. You couldn't shoot; couldn't risk him hearing or seeing you - not when he had the girl pressed up so close against him and with the dusty wind almost completely dead. Nothing obscured anyone’s view now.

Unfortunately, this worked for the girl as well, and her eyes dart to you as you slowly edge closer. You quickly take a hand off your rifle and bring a finger to your lips. Incredibly, she doesn’t make a sound.

In fact, all sounds stop; her screaming included. She seizes up, not moving an inch, eyes locked onto you. The lead bandit must have taken this as meaning company, because he laughs and starts speaking, stopping you in your tracks.

“Finally get the rope?” he chuckles. “Let’s get her back and then we can have our–” he turns to see you standing there. For a solid moment he stares with wide eyes, then he sees the gun in your hands and curses, scrambling around.

“STOP!” you yell out, pointing the barrel at him. Your finger is on the trigger but he’s moving too fast; the girl too close.

He turns around, one hand on the girl’s chest as he forcefully holds her against his own, and the other gripping a pistol that he presses roughly against her temple.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he warns, thumbing back the hammer. “Not a step closer, fucker.”

You curse to yourself as you point the rifle at him.

“One more step and I’ll blow the spic’s brains out, you fucking get me!?” he spits.

“You do that and you’re eating lead,” you call out, eyes trained under your goggles.

Sweat runs down his head as he stares at you. “Either way, the bitch dies. You really want that, fucker? Huh!?”

You say nothing; a million thoughts running through your head. He’s not pointing the gun at you, but he seems crazy enough to actually kill the girl, come what may. Fuck. Your eyes flick to the girl, whose hair is strewn about her face; tears streaming down and to the rags that was once a shirt.

Fuck!

Then, like a stray bullet, the old man’s voice comes to you unbidden, reminding you of what he told you all those years ago.

Remember all the possibilities, Jonito. When you’re back’s at the wall, there’s a solution in this hell around us. You just have to look.

Lovely advice. What the fuck were you supposed to do with it!?

The bandit is still screaming as you wrack your brain for a solution; looking around. There were roots and cars strewn about, useless to you. The sun was peeking out behind a slowly moving cloud, and the goddamn wind was completely gone now.

That sparks something in your head. The wind is gone, which means you can see clearly. You focus on the girl’s skirt, which is still shivering with her. Thin material. Very thin. Sun blazing above.

Ok.

You step to the side slowly, calling out to the bandit. “Fuck makes you think I care about some girl?”

He grins at you and subconsciously steps to the opposing side. “You would’ve taken the shot by now if you did.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of killing people.” You continue walking to the side and he follows you slowly; the both of you circling each other.

He grunts at you. “Walk away then. We both go home happy.”

“Please–” the girl starts before he presses the gun harder into her head.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, making her gasp.

“Not walking away with nothing,” you say, continuing your walk that he mirrors. “Need supplies.”

He growls at you and points at Davis’s bike with his chin. “You can take what’s on the bike. Then fuck off.”

“Mighty generous,” you mutter, right as you step on a pebble, making a sharp scraping noise.

This is enough to spook the bandit, who stops walking and digs the gun into the girl’s head. “Hey! That’s enough! Put that fucking rifle down, NOW!!!”

Shit, you think. He’s away from the van and out in the open, which is good, but the cloud is still in the way of the sun. Just a little more and…

It takes what feels like an age, but the cloud edges away and the sunlight streams down; through the girl’s skirt; illuminating the silhouette of her legs… and the two thicker legs of the bandit holding her. You crack a smile under your scarf.

“You think I’m FUCKING JOKI–!?” the bandit screams.

“Alright!” you yell, lowering yourself. “Alright, just… stop.”

He grins at you as you slowly lower yourself and the girl whimpers. You crouch down slowly, onto your knee… and take aim, his leg obvious behind the girl’s thin, sunlit skirt, and you fire.

The bandit screams and drops the gun, loosening his grip on the girl; who tears herself away and falls to the ground. The bandit drops, still screaming, clutching his bleeding shin. You walk forward fast, aiming with your rifle, until you’re standing right above him; his pupils wide and terrified as you point your rifle between his eyes.

Bang.

You stare at the lifeless man, adrenaline still coursing through you. It takes a while, but the jitters cool, and your shoulders slowly slump.

You hear grunting and turn to see the girl walking unsteadily to the corpse of the bandit; something dark and heavy in her hands. She falls to her knees opposite from you, and lifts the - was that a rock? - high above her head and screams as she slams it down into his face.

Ouch. She screams and keeps doing it, twice, thrice, until there isn’t much left of his head but a messy, fleshy paste. Blood is squelching and flying over her face and her arms are trembling now, but she isn’t stopping.