The Obama Drama. (Aka, The Worst Quackity Fanfic)

Chapter 3: The Gun

Everything gets progressively quieter the further you walk from the highway. Despite this, you feel as though someone is watching you. You look around the empty street and see nobody. Still, something feels wrong. Not even quickening your pace shakes the feeling.

You turn down a dark alley way in hopes that you can trick your brain into thinking you'd lost whatever imaginary figure was following you. This isn't your normal route, but at least it's not completely out of the way. The darkness shielding you gives you a sudden sense of security. If anyone had been stalking you, there was no way they would trace you down here.

Wrong.

Right as you're approaching the end of the alley where it meets the street, a silhouette of a person steps directly in front of you. You hear the click of a gun.

"Hey, pretty, what'cha got in that bag of yours?" Says a raspy voice,

"Nothing that's going to you," you say bravely.

This can't be happening.

"Is that so?" He steps closer

"I swear it's just clothes. Nothing of any value!"

"Just clothes, you say? How did you pay for these clothes, huh?"

Where was secret service when you needed them? You'd think the former president of the United States would have some sort of security.

"I-I" you stammer

"Listen very carefully, girl. I don't wanna hurt ya. I just need your wallet and anything of value you might have on you. Don't try to scream for help either, cuz that would end badly for you,"

Carefully, you reach into your back pocket for your wallet. The man with a gun steps even closer to you. You can smell his horrible breath.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask.

"You and your nice jacket just happened to catch my eye. It'd be a real shame if I had to but a bullet through it because someone was taking their sweet ti-"

Suddenly, a rock strikes the man in the head, causing him to cry out and drop the gun. Another figure emerges from the shadows. You instinctively snatch the gun before the robber can get it back. Not knowing how it works, you just keep a tight grip to make sure he can't get it back.

"I'd leave this young lady alone if I were you," says familiar but unidentifiable voice.

"I do whatever I want. Now I suggest you scram before I-"

"Before you what, punk?" The other person taunts, "What are you gonna do? Don't have your little gun anymore, do ya?"

Your attacker looks down at the ground where it had been. Then he frantically spins around looking for where it could have gone. While his back is turned, the other silhouette pulls the gun from your grip and knocks him over the head. The man crumples to the concrete with a loud thud.

"Oh my god, should we call the police?"

The person standing beside you doesn't say anything, but instead fires the gun at a nearby trash can. You cover your ears and the sound is deafening. The echo isn't even finished bouncing around the neighborhood when they fire again. Lights turn on in the windows above you.

"That'll call them over," they say before breaking the gun over their knee and tossing into a dumpster nearby.

You stand open mouthed.

"Th-thank you..." you say quietly "Jesus Christ thank you so much,"

"Second time I've had to rescue you from peril today," they step backwards into the light and you hear yourself gasp.

It's the boy from the electronics store.
You try to say something, but the adrenaline rush that had taken over your body is now fading rapidly. The world starts to spin in circles and you feel like you're about to lose your balance. He gives you a confused look before he realizes what's happening.

"I don't feel good," you say, leaning backwards quickly.

The mystery boy catches you again and holds you in his arms. Everything goes black.