It was evening, the sky and sunset covered by harsh clouds, coating everything in a dark grey as rain heavily downpoured. In this depressingly dark day, one person could be seen running desperately. But running from what?
"Fuck! Fuck!" The man cried out in pain, holding his bleeding shoulder as he ran through the tight alley. His feet causing puddles to create loud splashes of water.
"Haa... haa..." Slow, muffled breathing echoed out in the damp, dingy alleyway. The man's breathing grew more frantic as he heard the cause of his fears. He looked back only for-
BANG!
"Ahh!" Blaring pain from his calf assaulted the man. He tumbled to ground harshly, scraping his knees and hands as he tried to get back to his feet. His blood diluted in the puddles.
Splash Splash Splash
The splashes of the boots stopped in front of him. The injured man looked up. There He stood. A man in a Gas Mask with greenish yellow lens, wearing a black leather coat with the hood up, staring down at him. He just stood there, as if waiting for him to make a move, gun in hand.
"Haha..." The man laughed miserly. But he wasn't done yet.
He just needed to stall, enough for his quirk-
BANG!
"Agh... ahh... fuck, fuck... why the hell-" The man cried out in pain, tears running down his distorted face as the Man in The Gas Mask shot him in his only good arm.
"Why the hell are you doing this?! What the fuck are you waiting for!" he shouted out, only for him to get the deep, muffled breathing back in response. At least his anger took a bit away from the pain.
"I'm a good person! Why... why are you doing this?" he whimpered.
"Are... are you going to say something! Why the fuck are you just standing there!?" He demanded. His quirk just needed a little more-
BANG!
"AAHHH!" He squealed like a pig being butchered as he was shot in his other thigh. But he finally got what he wanted, as The Man spoke. His voice was deep and muffled as He said,
"Try it again, and the next one is going in your spine." His blood went cold. The man then holstered his gun, and pulled out a knife from a small sheathe on his thigh.
"Wait, wait, wait, what're you doing?!" He screamed, yet it fell on deaf ears.
Going to a bullet wound, he stabbed the knife into the hole and twisted until he got the bullet out. He stared at it as he held it between his gloved index finger and thumb, the rain pelting it washing the blood away. He pocketed it.
"Please stop! Ahhg!" The man did it three more times, putting it in the same pocket along with the other bullets and casings.
"What... whaaat're yooou doiiing now?" The injured man asked, half delirious from the pain and blood loss. The man was checking his pockets, and eventually, found the guy's phone. Turning it on, he pressed emergency call and put in 911.
He tossed the phone next to the guy's head. It clacked against the ground harshly.
"Pray your phone's water proof." With those parting words, he began walking away. Only to stop and turn his head as he heard the man mutter something softly.
"You're a hero... aren't you... aren't you supposed to help people?" he pleaded, sobbing. He was unable to move most of his limbs. He was... he was going to die, wasn't he?
The masked individual grabbed his gun, raising it up for him to see, and cocked it before saying, "Want me to help you?"
"Ah." The crippled man got the gist, shaking his head and crying no.
After walking a few blocks, the masked man took off his gas mask, dropped his backpack, unzipped his nearly fully zipped leather jacket, folded it up, and shoved it into the backpack. Pressing on his ear piece, he said,
"Admirer, make sure he get's to the hospital. Alive."
"Sure thing Gas Mask!"
The Vigilante smiled bitterly. 'I really need to find a better name,' he thought.