Uncharted

[Caira Ayryn]

Merik caught the bullet in his hand, well, through his hand. The crushed ball of lead embedded in his palm seared like flint as the fire of pain began. He was lucky the bullet hadn’t passed through and landed a fatal blow, however as his mind traced back the events that had seemed to occur in a slow motion, and yet now he recalled them in faster than a blink. At the last second his offensive telekinesis had acted as a mainly stopper to the bullet mid-air.

Now, as though leaching into his flesh like a venomous poison, he looked at the bloodied palm and realized how horrifying tangible pain really was. The crimson wound dripped and draggled with waves of throbbing agony.

Everything had gone south. As one can expect, the two bandits had turned their pistols on them, and a shootout ensued. Tumbling of wooden tables, the splatter of splinter shards in the room, and the fresh explosion of crystal liquor bottles spraying glass everywhere. Classic, old west style, and everyone raced to their stallions.

A flurry of bullets thrilled the air, and the two Primes were chased off through the rocky mountain range once more.