Faust

Mourning ring

It's quite amusing, how two people knew exactly what's about to happen. But neither incept actions for both are thinking if there's an alternative way.

Until the moment I look back do I remembered how often Enzo peak at his watch in nonchalant stretches or adjusted his shirt sleeves under his black jacket. And the suit he's rocking hugs his waist perfectly to emphasize his slim but tall figure, it is clearly tailored, then how could it have misaligned shoulder pads?

The three people in this room. Each felt a distinct coldness at their coccyx, a taste of metal and fish's intestines on the edge of their tongue.

Enzo's face now matches his eyes. Stern and ready with a smirk that drags the lines by his eyelids. Shining blue pupils depicts a vision of the purgatory I'm going through when I'm dead.

Piece or hand?

He's standing, I'm crouching with my back facing him. From his position, I'm at 2 o'clock, one meter away. Execution position.

Hand.

His Longines is on his right wrist but that doesn't necessarily mean he's left-handed. Shifting my focus off his eyes for a millisecond. I noticed there is a bronze signet ring on his pinky and a silver mourning ring with no name or date on his index finger. Both on left hand. His right hand is completely free of any decorative objects.

Mainly right-handed, I bet he's keen on his left hand too. But gut instinct will tell him to use his right hand first.

A small movement almost went unnoticed. His left index finger twitched.

Did I guess it wrong......
Before the voice in my head could finish the sentence. The frigid blue ocean broke apart, the venom, bitterness underneaths it rising from the seabed, to surface.

I rotate my body with my right hand shooting forward toward his hand, which is  moving away from his belt with a CZ 75. I was a blink slower than him, my right hand barely reached him when his sights were already in the adumbration of my face, my right eye can almost see the round through his barrel before I dash to the left.

         Thankfully he didn't want to fire without consent, probably because it's going to be hard to explain why there was more than one gunshot and the merc is missing.

          His caution gave me the chance to grab his right wrist and force his line of fire off me. An irritation appears on Enzo's face as his brows slightly got closer to each other. The kind of face you make when you missed the mosquito on your arm.

        Almost at the same time, we both launch a punch with our free hand and they landed on each other's face simultaneously. But I'm still applying pressure on his right arm which pushes him further from me. Despite his reach is further, punching someone at you right with left hand while not being able to rotate your body wouldn't do shit.

The punch only touched my nose leaving a pressure on it and destroying my sense of smell for the next few minutes.

        Ain't nothing compare to him.

        Mine landed directly where his jawline connects his ear. My right-hand draws back a bit while I wind up my punch, rotating my body to make my punch pack an extra speed. The adrenaline accompanied by the feeling of breaking your own hand felt goddamn nostalgic, especially when you see your opponent's face turned in a violent motion because of your strike. I swear Enzo's eyes roll back for a second as his head lowered, and his right upper arm's tensed muscles seem to let go a little.