Lady Luck: Hoodie x Reader

Chapter 2

            Logical people would run away. They would ignore the crazy masked guy who killed a drug dealer in cold blood, even if he was in obvious pain. No, more than that, they'd probably call the police and an ambulance so he could get treatment and a fair trial. No matter what, though, they would not go near him.

          Logic and I apparently do not get along well.

          "Well (Name), you're officially insane," I muttered under my breath as I carefully made my way down the hall, the man's voice growing louder with each step. Why was I doing this? Hell if I knew. I don't know why I do half the stuff I do, I just know that I do it. Reaching the final corner, I paused to take a deep breath and collect myself before stepping forward.

          The hooded man was now in view, rubble and debris strewn about his body as he furiously struggled to break free. Up close, I could see that his injuries were even worse than I'd first realized. Splintered fragments of wood protruded all over his body, and the cuts were getting worse and bloodier with all his thrashing. There was even a knife embedded in his leg, making me shudder. Just about the only thing that wasn't turning red was his head, which was good. As soon as he saw me his struggles stopped, his head rolling to the side to stare at me warily.

          Glancing around, I noticed a red case with a glass front on the wall nearby. Inside was a hatchet, a plaque with the phrase "IN CASE OF FIRE" inscribed on it hanging below it. Funny, I didn't know they actually have cases with hatchets instead of fire extinguishers. I thought that was a cliche for action movies and stuff, but lucky for me it was real. Approaching the case, I opened it and wrapped my fingers around the plastic handle, carefully adapting my grip to the hatchet's weight as I lifted it.
   

          Hatchet in hand, I turned and the hooded man's thrashing began anew as I started walking towards him. As it stood he was losing even more blood, and with each step I took his struggles grew more and more intense until finally I was right next to him, towering over his form. And then, his struggling just... stopped. He gave one last thrust, one final thrash, but then his body went limp. He just stared at me silently, not even twitching or shaking.

          We both understood that he was completely helpless, totally at my mercy. All it took was one swing. One swing, and he'd be dead—and there was nothing he could do, and nothing stopping me from doing it. Just thinking about it made my blood stir, filling me with a strange sense of empowerment as my fingers tightened around the handle.

          "Don't move," I told him, raising the hatchet above my head. He winced and clenched his fists, rolling his head to the side as he braced himself.

           WHAM!

          The wooden beam pinning his chest jolted in place before a small split formed where the blade had struck, and I swung it down once again. Bit by bit, I chopped away at it until finally the beam split with a loud crack. Tossing the hatchet aside, I quickly pushed the smaller part of the beam off his torso, grunting at the effort it took. Dust rose as it landed on the floor with a thump, but I ignored it and grabbed hold of the larger part still on his body.