Shit Happens

This was inspired by Leningrad. No time constraints, I just listened to the same song until it was over. First draft, all mistakes mine.

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Shit happens surprisingly fast. That was the only thought in Masha's mind as she dived behind a car, followed by a rain made of bullets and noise. She reloaded her guns, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

The facts: she went to a bar.

She had fun and drunk a lot. She danced.

A man tried to grab her as she went to the bathroom, she broke his nose. Well, she was known for doing that.

She cleaned the man's blood from her hands, then she pissed. Her clothes were clean.

A bunch of fuckers broke in, distributing bullets to the presents.

She left the bathroom and used the door to smash someone's face.

She lost one of her heels to one of the guys' eyes and took his gun. The other heel went through someone else's hand. That was when she had time to recover the guys' guns.

She lost her buzz. But it was much better to be sober during conflict situations, at least that was what her psychiatrist said. She was trying to follow his advice, so it kinda fit.

She took one of the fuckers' leather jacket for the pockets. She quickly  got all their guns and took whatever ammunition she could find too.

She ran to the street where a second group was ready to get her. So she dived behind a car.

Masha still didn't know what happened exactly, so her little mental exercise didn't really help much. Well, psychiatrists weren't god, they are bound to fuck up sometimes.

She stood up when the bullets stopped, the fuckers were probably reloading. One man, one bullet, just like her mama taught her. “Bullets are precious, don't waste them. One bullet, one man.” She still could hear her mama say.

Five bullets later, she saw a man ready to shoot back and she crouched again behind the car.

“Masha, give it up. You can't kill us all. You killed the old boss, the new boss wants you dead.”

“Maybe not.” She shouted back. “But I can kill enough of you to send a message. Where is the honor amongst assassins?”

“New boss doesn't care about that.”

“He will, don't worry.” Now things made a bit more sense. Masha awaited for the moment to stand up again, now holding two guns. It would be a bit harder to hit all the targets, but mama would have to forgive her for the waste.

She shot both clips, at least two thirds of the bullets reach their targets. While they regrouped and reloaded, she ran. She ran until her feet were all scratched by the asphalt.

When Masha got too tired, she ran to the middle of the street and stopped one of the cars. The driver would probably run over someone else who jumped in front of his car, but she was just a small woman with brown hair and big brown eyes, bloody feet, wearing a leather jacket too big for her.

He didn't really expect the gun.

Or getting shot.

Or being thrown off his own car.

But it was ok. He would survive. Masha was careful. Sometimes.

Now it was time to get the new boss. There were a few unspoken rules of the trade he had to respect. A few lessons to teach. Masha was a good teacher.

But there would probably be the need a new boss by the time she was done with him. That was life.