The bodyguard shoves the girl in front of him, keeping the gun aimed right at Wolfwood's head.
"I knew you looked like trouble, preacher," he growls, eyes narrowing. "Just figures we had to have a would-be bounty hunter on board. Well, looks to me like you're in a pretty tight spot. Where's your God to save you now, huh?"
His hands are in the air, the Punisher at his back. There's no chance of being quick enough to avoid being shot, and it's damn near point-blank: this would be no clipping.
He's not ready to die yet.
His eyes slide to the girl, staring at him helplessly. "Sorry, sweetheart," he tells her. "You picked the wrong guy to back you up. Fortunately for both of us, I didn't."
(He hadn't looked, but there's motion at the corner of his eye, and that means either it's Michael, or they're all fucked.)
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"I knew you looked like trouble, preacher," he growls, eyes narrowing. "Just figures we had to have a would-be bounty hunter on board. Well, looks to me like you're in a pretty tight spot. Where's your God to save you now, huh?"
His hands are in the air, the Punisher at his back. There's no chance of being quick enough to avoid being shot, and it's damn near point-blank: this would be no clipping.
He's not ready to die yet.
His eyes slide to the girl, staring at him helplessly. "Sorry, sweetheart," he tells her. "You picked the wrong guy to back you up. Fortunately for both of us, I didn't."
(He hadn't looked, but there's motion at the corner of his eye, and that means either it's Michael, or they're all fucked.)