Cool Move | A flash fiction story
57 of 💯
A shower of bullets ricocheted off the back of the overturned car. Maya glanced at Jax and saw the undisturbed face of stoicism. They had their back against the corpse of the vehicle, a machine conquered by rust long ago — not a great shield.
She unpocketed a little chrome sphere while sweat trickled down her forehead. She gently rolled the metallic ball to the side of the car while erratic flurries of bullets sent little pieces of rusty metal flying up in the air and raining down over them. The little spherical battle scanner stopped a few feet away from her, studying the enemy, communicating with the screen attached to the wrist of her red jacket.
“There are twelve of them,” she said wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “I don’t think it’s worth it. Let’s bail.”
“This artifact is valuable.” Jax rummaged with two hands in his ragged bag. “We won’t leave without it.”
Maya rolled her eyes and licked her dust-covered lips. Sometimes it was hard working with Jax.
His search finally ended while yells of “fuck off” flew over their heads. “You said twelve?” he asked.
She nodded.
One by one, Jax bit the pins out of four grenades — two on each of his massive hands. He threw the explosives over the car without looking, his unblinking, expressionless eyes deep into hers.
There was an eruption of screams followed by four distinct explosions, all concatenated in a well-punctuated sentence.
Maya smirked as the number on the screen went down to three. “Cool move,” she said, pulling out two submachine guns. She rushed toward the smoke and the debris, guns blazing.
