Last Man Standing
Onyx locked eyes with Tate.
"Look at you, all gutsy! You think I'm scared to pull the trigger?" Tate barked, "I'm counting to three, and you'd better say you're sorry!"
"You've made your bed," Onyx replied, his voice like gravel.
"One!" Tate started the countdown.
Swoosh!
Before he could even finish, Onyx's wrist flicked, and a blade flashed out lightning-fast.
Thump!
A hand and the gun it held dropped to the ground, blood gushing forth.