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Atara Raven · (05-07-2020)

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A diner. Symbol of Americana and the working class, the setting for a plethora of tropes seen in television and film. A seemingly harmless setting where the worst things tend to always happen. Now it could add pin attempt to the resume and Felix Jones to the list of victims unlucky enough to take a seat and order that slice of apple pie.

There he sat, exhausted, beaten and battered, wearing the badge of Xtreme in all it's black blue bruised glory. Cigarette in hand, the X-treme title thrown haphazardly on the counter, Felix caught the stares of patron and waiter alike. He reeked of trouble and each of them had a forboding sense it was coming.

And they were right.

The hunter was being hunted. The hunter had been found. Felix had been unknowingly cornered. Hope that pie was as good as advertised.

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With every click and clack of their heels, Felix's demise loomed closer. Two lionesses of the XWF came to reclaim stolen gold.

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A jingling of door bells was his only warning, a ducking waitress his last hint. Through the door came the Themis girls, shotguns drawn already.

Bang. Bang. That awful sound. They shot them down. Peppered everything in sight, if it moved it died.

Bang. Bang.

Drink glasses exploded, plates shattered, pie splattered everywhere, luckily, Felix has spatial awareness enough to know and had jumped the countered. Lot of good that pea shooter at his wrist was gonna do though. The minute that hand peaked over the countertop it...

Boom, it would've been gone. He knew it. Around the corner came Atara, gun already drawn back and falling. Felix caught the stock right to the dome and before he could react both women stood over him.

Like she had before, Atara dug her heel right into his chest and Osira began the count...

1....

2....

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