Someone tried to kill me today.
That feels new, oddly enough. It's not that it's never been a possibility, but this time it was different.
You can kill people lots of ways, we're fragile, breakable little things. Before it was always a chance that you'd live through being stabbed or bludgeoned. This one had a gun.
Stupid. Was he trying to get himself killed?
Maybe. That's the point of a gun. You can, presumably not kill someone with it, but at the end of the day, it's what it was made for. Killing. Using it another way goes against what it was made for. Against it's... purpose, so to speak.
He's not exactly doing so well.
Bullet wounds will do that.
Gun's mine now. Not doing so well though. But I'm still alive.
The important bit, right?
Back on the fucking road then.