The Death of Bigbird

Someone was knocking. I came to wakefulness slowly, letting my senses feel out the room before I dared move. I took stock of myself and my surroundings. Gun was still in shoulder holster, nothing changed in the cramped hotel room. I smelled like a foot from sleeping in my clothes, which was new. Otherwise everything was the same.

Whoever it was knocked again. I got up as silently as a cat and walked to the door that joined the "suites" together. I pulled out my lockpick gun a jammed it into the doorknob, pulling the trigger several times before the lock gave and the door swung inward. Luckily my neighbors were out, but not gone as all their stuff was lying around in differently stages of carelessness.

I crossed to the front door and cracked it open the tiniest bit, pulling my .44 colt from of it's holster as I did. It was a huge revolver and unlike most handguns, I had made the bullets myself. Full-metal jacket with enough density to poke a hole straight through Kevlar.

Bigbird stood outside my door.

Bigbird glanced in my direction--

I threw the door open the rest of the way and leveled my piece. Bigbird, renowned assassin and grifter dropped his bouquet of flowers and leveled a small sub-machine gun my way. I got the first shot off, taking him in the shoulder and staggering him, sending his first burst wide. As the recoil left my arm I re-aimed and squeezed off another shot as I ducked around a corner. My second shot missed by a hair and the birds second burst ate through the wall just above and behind me.

I ran down the hall and ducked around another corner and waited. Despite his size, Bigbird was surprisingly light due to hollow bones. How he managed to fire guns without falling over is something I'll never know, but his lightness made him stealthy as a couger when he chose. This was not one of those times.

"C'MON MURPHY!" Bigbird screamed in his odd, high-pitched voice. "TIME TO END THIS DANCE ONCE AND FOR ALL!"

"EAT SHIT!" I called back and was rewarded with a round of bullets flying through the wall just above my head.

I walked down the hall and pulled on the fire alarm, was rewarded with loud noises but no water. I frowned and took out my lighter and held it to the sprinkler. After a very nervous moment the waterworks turned on, drenching me and the bird (hopefully) with gross, stagnant water. Most sprinkler systems have a cistern of standing water, instead of getting the water from the plumbing, so whenever there's a fire you not only get the smell of smoke but also of rot.

Hopefully his plumage would hold more water than my clothing and slow him down. At the very least if I fail to kill him today the shoulder wound I gave him will probably be infected. I began walking away from the bird, made a right at another hall instead of a left, circling around behind where I thought he was. As I walked I unloaded the spent shells from my .44 and replaced them. I hoped the gun would fire wet, as revolvers can't fire underwater. I guess I'll find out.

"OOOH, CUTE!" Bigbird yelled surprisingly close. "A LITTLE WATER--"

I snuck a glance around the corner and had to drop suddenly as the bird spotted and instantly fired a salvo. I felt a bullet tear through the bunched up sleeve at my elbow and graze my skin, messing with my aim as I fired a round back at the bird that just kissed through the feathers of his long neck. I hit the ground hard and the wind was forced from my lungs.

I rolled to the side and got to my feet, firing blindly in the birds direction. Pain exploded in my back and I shouldered through a door, terrifying a family as a trail of bullets followed me. The bullets suddenly stopped and I reversed my momentum and ran back out to find the bird grabbing another clip from under his feathers.

I approached him and pointed my piece at his head. His furious reloading slowed to a stop as he saw the barrel of my gun pointed at him.

He did his bird imitation of a grin. "Well what do you--"

I put a hole in his head.

I watched his body fall, oddly weightless. I put my last bullet in him just for spite. My body grew cold, and the part of my mind that cared about things like breathing and not being in pain informed me that I probably have a bullet in an organ right now and that I should go see Vinny about it. It also informed me that being cold, covered in stagnant water with a bullet wound all spell bad things. I decided it was probably right and took a step in the direction of the fire escape--

And promptly fell. Oh well. The cops will show up in a bit. They'd take me to the hospital so I could be alive to answer questions. I'll give them the slip later.