This Isn't Going to End Well

I don't care much for guns. They can be such casual weapons. Some of the people that choose to wield them seem to do so without regard for the consequences. Honestly though, I think what I really dislike is having guns pointed at me as this one was soon to be. It's not a very entertaining way to spend an evening. Therefore, finding a way to prevent this gun from being pointed at me was a priority in my mind.

Thankfully panic didn't cause me to freeze, it gave me a plan. It might have been a crazy plan, but it was a plan. As the suited man crept forward, unsure as to my location, I worked to fold up the nearby chair into attack mode. Under the best circumstances, folding chairs aren't made to be silent as they transform and this chair proved to be no different in these somewhat unique circumstances. It squeaked and squawked a bit. While this did something to identify my location, it must also have sounded a bit odd to someone not expecting this noise in the dark as the man paused for an eternity, looking only vaguely in my direction.

I was moving, my heart pounding furiously. There are only a few sections of solid wall to the design around the Pow-Wow diorama and he was approaching the angled wall nearest me. Chair in hands, I flattened myself to the small piece of wall around the corner, waiting for him to appear and hoping I had something in my chair-swinging ability that would make El Hombre de Silla proud.

Waiting like that is horrible. Every second becomes a minute. Every minute a day. There's no sound apart from the sound of your own heartbeat. Please tell me he hadn't backed up and was going around the exhibit the other way. What was taking him so long? He'd seen me move, hadn't he? I should sneak back to the opening and look for him. No, that was stupid. Except, where was he then if he hadn't spotted me and changed course? Wait, is that the barrel of his gun?

Everything went from slow-motion to fast-forward. His next step made him visible to me. I swatted him in the face with the folding chair, knocking him down, his gun sliding away into the darkness. Chair still in hand, I ran the long way around the exhibit, hoping to confuse the other gunman a little. When I reached the area in front of the 'Jewels' exhibit, he was on the ground, clutching at his groin. I must have looked surprised as the lady commented “I'm not helpless you know.”

“Who said you were? Come on, this is the part where we run.” When she didn't immediately agree, I grabbed her by the hand and dragged her on.

As we went past the man I'd hit, he was starting to rise. I cracked him again with the chair as we ran past, returning him to the floor. Funny how casual violence becomes in situations like this.