Victim or the crime

3 Word Wednesday prompts are: bait, jump, victim



Shane reached for his pistol. He steadied the Glock 9mm and aimed it right between the fucker's eyes.

"Move away from the woman," Shane yelled. "Now, scumbag."
The tattooed teen was defiant.
Her purse in one hand, a blade against her throat, Jason had pegged her as the perfect victim.
She was blond, pretty, a little chunky with a nice rack and, most importantly, she wasn't paying attention. God, how Jason loved dumb people listening to iPods. The world could end and they wouldn't know until their playlist was over.
He didn't know her faux Gucci handbag was bait.
He also didn't count on being confronted.
But then again, he didn't care. He knew no chickenshit fucker wouldn't shoot him with this blond human-shield in front of him. Most people wanted this shit to be over as quickly as possible.
"Take my wallet."
"Here's my purse."
"This is all I have, please take it and go, just don't hurt me."
Those were the refrains. No one wanted confrontation. No one wanted any trouble. No one wanted to be a hero.
Jason knew the station was quickly approaching. He would wait for the doors to open, toss the bitch toward Johnny Law and jump off the train and into the crowded platform. No one would dare fire at him as he ran away, not even a limp-dick cop.
"Fuck you, bitch," the vato spat. "I'll kill this cunt."
Shane had the shot, but missed. Right as his finger squeezed the trigger, the subway train lurched. He lunged, fired and grazed the kid's left ear.
"Motherfucker," Jason screamed.
It wasn't the first time Jason had been shot, but, still, it's something you never get used to.
"I told you, asshole," he screamed as Jason slid the blade across the woman's throat. He held the bitch up tight to him so that fucker couldn't squeeze off another shot. Jason shuffled toward the door, dropped the woman and bolted.
He got two steps off the train before a gunshot ripped through his spine, dropping him instantly.
Shane looked to see where the shot came from only to see the blond, with blood spurting down her chest, holding her own pistol.
He ran to her, leaned down and whispered, "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't think he would cut you."
She looked up and smiled through the pain.
"Just get me out of here before the cops show up. They arrest vigilantes, you know."