Damien slid down the wall, hand pressed to his side. His vision blurred and the gunshots dulled.
A vase shattered above his head as Vera ducked around the divider beside him.
“V?” Damien looked at the empty clip of his gun.
“What?” She ducked around the doorway and fired at any movement.
“Have you ever thought of living a normal life?” Damien screwed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth.
“What? You’re asking now? We are a tad busy,” Vera snapped.
“If we lived a normal long, life,” Damien’s head lulled as he looked at his best friend.
“Damien stop.” Vera’s eyes were full of fire.
“Would you go to my funeral?” Damien muttered and took a sharp, wet breath.
“Damien. Stop.” Vera leaned back around and unloaded her gun.
“Will you give me one now?” Damien wondered aloud.
“You aren’t dying dammit!” She pressed her hand against one of his many bullet wounds.
“You didn’t answer the question,” He watched windows shatter on the far wall.
“Yes, I would.” Vera ground her teeth. “I’ll go to your funeral when you die old and bitter and rich and with me.”
“I don’t…” Damien’s vision went black and all the sound vanished. His senses snapped back and he frowned, “I don’t think I’m going to make it that far.”
Vera looked to the back door and to her blood soaked hands.
“Go,” Damien breathed.
“You will get a funeral,” She whispered and her hands were gone.
The gunshots came faster then stopped. More hands grabbed him and dragged him away from the wall. Damien felt his smile go slack and his head dropped against the floor.