Shalee’s heels clicked as she walked along the pavement. Garst had just gotten back from a two week leave of absence. She was on her way to see him at the small get-together that was being thrown as a celebration. She reached the door to My Blue Heaven and pushed it open. Entering, she saw Garst and Raphael talking, laughing, and dressed in their Praetorian uniforms. They looked over as she entered Garst’s eyes widened as a grin spread across his face; Raphael waving her over with a friendly smile.
“It looks like we’re all a bit overdressed for this place,” Saint joked as Shalee joined them.
“Don’t listen to Saint. You look great, Shalee. Absolutely beautiful.” Garst said as he slid over, allowing Shalee to take a seat.
Always up for a compliment, Shalee flashed a smile and said thanks as she took a seat next to Garst. The three began to drink and converse, a cheerful mood permeating the conversation. Garst grew bolder the more he drank until he finally asked the question he had been wanting to ask all night.
“How’re things between you and Zenton?” he asked, looking at Shalee.
“Not well,” she sighed. “The last kiss I got was from Raph.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t meant to say it, it just slipped out. She looked over at Saint, who was busy looking to Garst, awaiting his reaction.
“What?” Garst asked, surprise in his voice.
“Garst….” Saint started, but was quickly cut off.
“Shut up, Saint.” Garst growled. He turned to look back to Shalee. “When did this happen?”
Shalee remained silent, not knowing what to say. Her silence only enraged Garst.
“Saint!” he yelled, leaping up and diving over the table. The rusty bolts holding Saint’s bench in place gave way and both of them tumbled backwards. They both wrestled for a second, Garst’s inebriation giving Saint a chance against his military training. They traded blows to the face and side until Garst finally got Saint in a chokehold.
“Damn you, Saint! Damn you! Is this how you treat your old friend? You make a move on the woman I love while I’m gone!?”
Saint attempted to choke out an explanation, but could only sputter as Garst throttled him. Shalee quickly ran over, trying to stop Garst. He took one of his hands off of Saint’s throat to brush Shalee off, giving Saint the opening he needed.
Throwing a punch to Garst’s jaw, Saint was able to knock him back enough to get his foot onto Garst’s chest, kicking Garst off of him. Still coughing, Saint stood up and pulled his gun from his holster, pointing it at Garst, who was still on the ground.
“Goddamnit, Garst, you wouldn’t even let us explain!?” Saint yelled, his voice hoarse. “Have I not earned your trust? You don’t even give me a chance to speak, you just go for the throat and try to kill me!?” There was a mix of anger and hurt in his voice.
“Put the gun down, Saint.” Garst growled, loathing dripping from every word.
“Goddamnit! I’m not going to kill you, you hateful bastard. But god help me, I’ll shoot you if you so much as move. I’m getting the hell out of here. We can talk once you’ve cooled down.”
Garst reached for his pistol. Unable to shoot his friend, Saint hesitated, his trigger finger twitching but otherwise remaining still.
“You stay right the fuck there!” Garst yelled, training his pistol on Saint.
“Goddamnit.” Saint muttered, unable to think of anything but this short prayer.
The two kept their pistols on each other, Saint standing while Garst lie on the floor. Shalee stood pressed against the wall, wanting to say something but finding her voice gone.
Suddenly a shot rang out and both Garst and Saint began emptying their guns into each other, each of them shuddering as each round struck their body. Once the gunfire stopped, Garst lie dying in a pool of blood as Raphael fell backwards and began doing the same.
Shalee slid to the floor against the wall, her hands, shaking, slowly making their way to her mouth to hold back the scream that was quickly rising in her throat.
--
This story was a fun little one that I wrote for Shalee Lianne during the "affair" part of the relationship between our two characters. I had just come off of an "Inglourious Basterds" high, and wrote this in spirit of the shootout in the basement bar.
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