Nickelback

nickelback

My name is Enrico. I am a member of a neo-revolutionary guerilla front with my friend Dorian. We did not want to join, we had no choice.

It all started at the cafe. We were sitting with two women, joking and drinking whiskey. Everything was enjoyable, we thought we would both get laid. But there was a blonde woman sitting at a table across the cafe from us who would not stop staring at us. I asked Fabrizio, the cafe manager, and he told us that she was a gunrunner by the name of Gabriella, and that we should keep away from her. We agreed. We bought another bottle of whiskey to take away with us.

Dorian, the two girls, and I all ended up at a parking lot down by the waterfront. We had fun. We got drunk. Dorian and I were sure we'd get laid.

The bottle was empty, so I went to throw it away while Dorian and the girls figured out where to go next. As I approached the trash can at the end of the parking lot, I heard a man talking. He was about ten meters away, but I could hear what he was saying quite well.

"So when you say his name, that's when it goes down." I couldn't tell who he was talking to.

A voice from inside a big yellow van answered in the affirmative. The short man by the trash can went over to another car and pulled out a sawed-off shot gun. I ran back to try to warn the others.

I wasn't fast enough. I looked over my shoulder as I ran back to my friends in time to see a large group of men come out from a warehouse across the street and head over to the man by the trash can. Words were exchanged. Voices were raised. The men drew guns.

I got to Dorian and the girls just as the shooting started. I yelled as quietly as I could for everyone to hide, but Dorian was the only one who listened. The girls both stood up and walked towards the gunplay like it was a radio show. They were spotted. They were shot dead. I stayed crouched behind a car, hoping that I wouldn't be found, hoping that Dorian was all right. Then I heard a noise by my side. I turned.

The man stood over me like a wide-beaked vulture, gun in his hand and saliva hanging from his open, grinning mouth. I thought it was odd that I felt nothing when I heard the gun go off, then the man fell to the ground.

Gabriella, the woman from the cafe, stood behind him, gun raised. I grabbed his gun from his lifeless hand and suddenly felt brave. I thanked the blonde for saving my life, then ran off in search of Dorian. Gabriella did the same.

I had shot down two men on my way to where I had last seen Dorian ducking for cover, thereby alerting the others to my presence. I found Dorian clinging to the edge of an overhang above the river. A tall black-eyed man was running up to him. So was Gabriella. I tore off two shots at the man, but Gabriella got in the way. She crumpled to the ground and fell off of the overhang before I could even gasp. The black-eyed man turned to get a line on me, but I shot him dead
before he could fire.

I helped Dorian to level ground and gave him the gun of the black-eyed man. We stayed crouched behind a car firing clear our ground for what seemed like a day. Then the rest of the army arrived. They cleaned up the mess and then came to Dorian and myself. I told them in all honesty what had happened to Gabriella, whom they had come to as back up.

They understood.

They handcuffed us and took us back to their campgrounds. They never removed our guns.