Darius’s head didn’t just snap back. It opened . A spray of red and grey painted the wall behind him—a grotesque Rorschach. His body sat there for a full second, hands still loosely holding the shotgun, before it tilted sideways and crashed to the floor. The smell hit immediately: copper, cordite, and the hot, organic reek of bowels releasing.
Marta took it. Two hot shells. Eleven left. She put it to her temple again. buckshot roulette
BOOM.
Darius smiled. He held the shotgun like a lover. He looked down the barrel, then pressed the muzzle to his forehead, right between the eyes. Darius’s head didn’t just snap back
Click.
BOOM.