fiction - brigits_flame - Then and Now

[hwango]

Sir Hatter spared a quick glance at his arm to see how badly he was bleeding, and then immediately returned his attention to the doorway. It wasn't that bad, really – the bullet had only grazed him. Certainly he'd had worse. Or seen worse, at least. Now that he came to think about it a bit more, it was usually other people standing near him who tended to get injured. That being the case, it was something of a pity that he was currently alone in his study.

Hatter silently chided himself for thinking such a selfish thought. Then one of his assailants leaned out into doorway long enough to fire off another shot, and as the bullet tore a chunk of wood out of the corner of his desk he couldn't help thinking it again. He fired back in reply, but succeeded only in hitting some unseen bit of pottery further down the hall. Hopefully it wasn't that rather large pot he'd brought back from his expedition to Llu. In addition to being quite irreplaceable, it was also a handsome shade of green, and currently contained a rather lovely rhododendron.

Ah, Llu. What an amazing place that had been. The spectacular Underground Cathedral. The majestic Howling Cliff. That incredibly colorful variety of poisonous snake that he had found in his boot one day. That tree that burst into flames when you tried to pick a piece of fruit from it. So many wonderfully interesting memories.

Such thoughts led Hatter to consider again how absurd it would be to be killed in his own home, and by something so mundane as men with guns. He'd been attacked by giant squid, tigers, a quite astonishing variety of dinosaurs, more carnivorous plants than he would have ever dreamed existed, all manner of unquiet dead, and quite possibly every curse and booby trap ever concocted by men who didn't want other men poking around in their tombs, temples, or root cellars. To have survived all that, only to be shot? It was unthinkable.

A long moment passed as everyone seemed to waiting for someone else to shoot next. Perhaps they had all run out of bullets, Hatter thought. Wouldn't that be marvelous? He frowned as he considered his own reserves of ammunition. Hatter reached up to open the top drawer of his desk and awkwardly rummaged in the corners for any spare bullets that might be lurking there. It would have been nice to stand up and conduct a proper search, but that would have meant surrendering the cover provided by the heavy wooden desk.

Two more bullets. He added them to the three still remaining in his revolver. Five bullets for two more targets. Not quite the ratio he might have hoped for. At least the weapon was of sufficient caliber that a single hit for each would be all that was required. The size of the hole that he'd blown in the third attacker was probably the reason the remaining two seemed to be exercising so much caution in spite of their superior numbers.

Hatter smiled. Superior numbers? There were only two of them, and he was Sir Reginald Hatter. He was not going to die today.

Comments

[missflyer.livejournal.com]

I'll look forward to it, then! (btw, may I friend you, please? :) )

[hwango.livejournal.com]

Of course! I have people I've never heard of in Russia who friend me. I certainly can't complain about being friended by people that I've actually talked to. = )

[missflyer.livejournal.com]

Thanks! :D