Assassin: Part 1
"Well. It seems that you walked right into my line of fire, how exactly could I have not shot you?" I looked up, trying to ignore the burning pain that was spiking through my calf where Q's .303 bullet had pierced my flesh and torn most of my calf muscles.
"You probably could have at least looked before snapping off that shot you fucking klutz." Q looked down at me where I had taken refuge from any bullets that cared to fly my way. He was standing, his ears pricked up, and his tail gently wagging.
"Oh well, its only a flesh wound, come on, you can still walk, right?" I looked at him in disbelief for a second then decided that an argument was futile and pulled myself up, we were in the heart of Belfast, a bullet wound wouldn't look too suspicious.
"Shit, that must hurt," I heaved a very angry sigh and cursed under my breath but then Q took my arm and heaved me into his arms, carrying me firefighter style. I nearly dropped my gun, but caught ahold of the butt and looked at the surrounding streets all of which were curiously dark. My calf was stinging like a mother and I began mentally debating what the proper combination of Valium and vodka would be to dull the pain. Combining sleeping pills and alcohol is usually done by suicidal furs, but when you don't have access to morphine or Oxy-Contin you have to make due with what you've got.
Q used the alleys to navigate our way back home, and I have to admit, while he might have been a complete asshole in social life, he was rather good at being stealthy when he wanted to. Just a shame he was rather good at friendly fire as well.
Q kicked open our door and deposited me on the couch. I looked at my leg and winced, the bullet had gone clean through, but my pant leg was soaked in blood and my fur was matted with it.
"Take me to the bathtub, I need to clean this shit off of me." Q helped me hobble over to the tub then exited the room, closing the door behind him, leaving me to clean my wound as best as I could. I had never been shot before, and knew next to nothing about dealing with gunshot wounds, I couldn't go to a doctor, because that would just get me arrested for involvement in a gun fight, and I couldn't just leave it, it was still bleeding and I was feeling faint already from a combination of blood loss and shock.
The furs in the movies who were shot usually just wrapped a bandage around it and walked off, but I doubted that I could do that, I had plenty of cloth that could be used as bandages, but I could barely put weight on my leg without my wound sending a bolt of pain up my leg from calf to groin.
I ran a hot bath and gingerly laid my leg in the water. My vision flashed from the sudden bolt of pain and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. I drained the bathtub and reran it with cold water, which I had heard closed up blood vessels and reduced blood flow.
My wound still hurt when I stuck my leg in , but not nearly as much as it had when I had stuck it into the hot water. I looked down and was dismayed to see the water already turning a light pink, I was bleeding more severely than I thought.
I gently raked my hands through my fur, just below the wound and released another bunch of blood that stained the water a deeper red. I was becoming frightened now, the blood wasn't even slowing in its flow, so I withdrew my leg from the tub and quickly grabbed a cloth from the towel rack, wrapping it around my calf with a hiss of pain.
I looked at the steadily expanding blossom of blood and felt a prickle of fear growing inside of me. I needed a doctor.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWO...