A Game of R&R
Tears matted his fur as the badger finally opened his eyes to the barrel of the gun that was pointed directly at his right eye. As it got closer and closer, he closed his eyes again, embracing his faith, as the barrel got close enough to where it could touch him, but he didn't feel it on the top of his eye... he felt the gun on the side of his head. Closing his eyes tighter, he was prepared to die... but the gun clicked, snapping him back to reality.
Confused and dazed, he looked at his surroundings, then the gun in his hand, and finally at the old wolverine that was smiling at him. After getting accustomed to his surroundings, he felt under his eyes. They were dry, no tears, nothing felt wet.
"DAMN IT ALL!" He shouted, gripping the fur on his head tightly.
"Took ya long enough, Clancey," the wolverine laughed. "An' don't grip yer head so hard, Clancey, may start to look like yer old man. Now, slide the gun over here. It's my turn."
Clancey looked at the wolverine. Even though his face held a more annoyed expression, his mind started to wander. Shaking his head, he finally slid the gun over to the wolverine.
"Finally." The wolverine sassed as he picked up the gun, instantly putting it up to his head and pulling the trigger.
"See! Heh-heh! Not that hard to pull a trigger, Clancey-boy!" The wolverine chuckled as he slid the gun back over to Clancey. "Your turn, pup."
Clancey couldn't bring himself to continue; his mind was too far elsewhere to keep going. Which was probably his subconscious pulling him away from it altogether. "Sorry old man, maybe next time," Clancey said as he picked up the revolver, pointing it in the air, and then pulling the trigger.
And with the click of the gun signaling his forfeit, he emptied his revolver, sparing it of the bullet that was yet to be fired and then holstering it.
"Later pops, stay outta trouble, okay?" Clancey said to the wolverine earning an ornery look in return.
"What 'trouble' is there to get into, pup!" He said, crossing his arms shortly after. "I don't do nothin'!"
"Just sayin' pops. You know you get bored without me here." Clancey said jokingly.
"Then what're we playin' R&R for." The wolverine said matter-of-factly.
"Touche... See you 'round pops."
"Be safe, pup."
By the time the wolverine even began to say his goodbye, Clancey was already out of the door. Walking through the streets late at night was a death sentence to some, but Clancey liked the late-night glow of the streetlights so he saw it as a worthy risk. As he continued to walk down the barely lit street, he could tell he was being followed. A hunch was the go-to word he would use to explain it. He has been through this multiple times, a quick little wave of his revolver was all it took usually, but tonight felt different.
Stopping and turning around, he saw a figure standing under a streetlight, "At least I was right," he thought to himself.
The best thing to do in these situations is to never think it is just one person, too many people go missing in this town for it be more than just "better safe than sorry". Cautiously, he pulled out his revolver. Hopefully, this would be enough to scare his stalker away, and anyone else for that matter... but the figure just stared at him. This time Clancey actually spoke.
"Hey! Get outta here with that, you aren't scaring anyone!" He lied. At this moment he was terrified. If there were more of them, what was his empty revolver supposed to do?
After a while of staring back at the stalker, Clancey holstered his revolver and started walking again hoping that the stalker would be dissuaded from continuing after he brandished his weapon. What felt like a second later. The sound of someone running at him boomed its way into his ears; wasting no time he started to sprint towards a random house.
Barging into the house as fast as he could, he unholstered his revolver before closing the door, but as soon as he closed the door, it was kicked open, knocking him to the ground and disarming him. In the heat of the moment, he tried running at the figure, earning him a kick to the stomach. Winded and disarmed, he was paralyzed by fear.
"Found you, stripes." That was all the assailant said as he picked up Clancey's revolver and started walking towards him.
Tears matted his fur as he saw the figure that towered over him, pointing the gun at his head. Closing his eyes, he was prepared to die as the revolver came in contact with his skull, forcing him to let out a gasp and choke on more of his tears. "So long, stripes."
For one last final time, Clancey opened his eyes to see his assailant. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on who you ask, Clancey didn't recognize who the figure was, but what he did recognize was the familiar sound of an empty revolver.
Adrenaline took over as the badger sunk his teeth into his assailant's hand, disarming him. As his attacker began to cup his hand, screaming from the pain. Clancey picked up his revolver, loading the bullet from the game of Russian Roulette and firing it into his attacker's leg.
Cursing his bad aim, he went towards the pained shouting of the animal that attacked him, punching him. "What is yer name!" He shouted as he punched him again.
"Please! I'm sorry!" Shouted his attacker as he held the spot where Clancey shot him.
This made Clancey see red. "Did I beg when you held me at gunpoint? 'Sorry' doesn't cut it. Just tell me yer FUCKING NAME!"
"I can't!"
"Listen here," Clancey said, pulling what he could now see was a lion, "I don't give a shit whatever yer gang or whatever the fuck yer in says! Just-" He took a breath, feeling a headache come in from all the shouting, "tell me your name."
"I'm telling you I can't! Just let me go! Please!" Begged the lion, but his pleas were falling onto deaf ears. Clancey was starting to get bored of hearing the same thing from this lion over and over again.
"Guess it's time to play the bad cop." That was all Clancey said as he went to go get his revolver.
"What are you gonna do?"
"We're gonna play a game. A game my pops liked to call R&R."
Clancey was about as calm as he could get as he loaded the bullet into the cylinder. "I'll go first," he said as he held the gun to his head, pulling the trigger without an ounce of hesitation, or even a flinch. "Your turn."
"Wait! Wait! My name is Gabe! There I said it! Now, please let me go!"
"Well, looks like yer forfeiting. Y'know, me and my pops have a special rule for forfeits." He said as he pointed the gun towards the lion's head. "Ya take the shot anyway. To see if you were safe or not."
"Plea-" Was all Gabe could say before a bullet was put through his right eye.
Trying to catch his breath, Clancey heard a creak at the door. Instantly pointing his gun towards the sound, he could see his dad entering the house.
"Looks like he was unlucky." The wolverine chuckled.
"Pops, what're you doin' here?"
"Oh! Yer picking up my accent must've been serious. Heh-heh!" He teased.
"Pops."
"What! I can't worry 'bout my son, sheesh! What has this world come to?" He said, smiling at Clancey, who was completely out of it.
"I mean, I coulda shot you if I loaded another bullet in this thing." He said as he waved his revolver in his general direction.
"Don't go worryin' 'bout these old bones. I thought I told ya to be safe, I woulda let ya stay the night if I woulda known this was gonna happen, ya reckless bastard."
"You are always right, aren't you?"
"There goes the accent ya must've calmed down. Ya want yer old man to give ya a hug before ya go?"
"Nope, but can I spend the night? It has gotten later than I thought."
"Ya know you can pup. I know my way around a fight or two." He said playfully giving Clancey a few light jabs to the arm.
"Keep punching like that and you'll probably be in the ground next to ma," Clancey said jokingly.
"I could never. Bless her soul, but I could never be as much of a badass as her. Woman nearly took out a bear to keep ya safe, not sayin' I wouldn't do the same, but she was something else," he said proudly as his ears fell back slightly, "God, I miss that woman o' mine."
"Me too, pops. Me too. Now, let's call the police and then head to your place."
"Pup, aren't you the police?" The wolverine asked.
"Do I look like a bastard?" The badger asked incredulously.
Before the wolverine could answer the badger pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
"Sorry, pops I'm on the phone. We'll get back to that." He joked knowing what the answer would've been.
"That boy's gonna get himself killed."