once_janus | Little Hades MiniFic: Challenge Mode

[Challenge Mode:
* 500 word limit (CHECK)
* Include at least 1 Metaphor (CHECK)
* Include at least 1 Simile (CHECK) ]

“Runnin’ low on ammo here!”

“Working on it, give me a minute!”

It’s difficult to make out the words among the roar of the brawl; to see the party of three in the center of the chaotic ring of violence. Demons circle them like prowling predators, looking for a weakness to exploit. How did such a brawl bloom so wildly around so few people?

“Hancock, catch!”

“Thanks, DeWitt!” his raspy words are punctuated with the crackling blast of electric buck exploding from his shotgun. There’s two women with Hancock as well—probably got dragged into whatever trouble he stirred up; poor girls, it’s totally all his fault. Both of them are diminutive as dangerous, hot gold and ice blue eyes, scalding the hapless demons that charge them. One woman seems especially skilled with the speed of her knives; a graceful and fluid serpent that strikes with brutal twin fangs. A stranger to the cavalry that Hancock summoned; a knife-dancer whose wild curls swing with the slashing of her blades.

But will the Ghoul’s second companion be a stranger or a friend when the last gun arrives?

A blood colored skirt that is ankle-length in the back, and a few scintillating inches above the knees in the front has been shredded at the edges, torn and frayed, and darkened with small blood spatters and flecks of dirt and filth. Her skin is strikingly pale, a stark contrast to the deep dark ruby of her clothing, notably where one fishnet stocking seems to have been torn away from its twin. Sharp black heels don’t seem to affect her ruthless grace as she dodges a charging demon, and lifts her hand.

The white of the tiny blizzard that storms her fingers is so much purer than that of her clinging top, which pours sparsely over her chest like a thin coat of cream. Holsters are strapped tightly to her thighs, ammo packs on her bare shoulders. Her strikingly blue eyes are ringed with pretty smoke around the dark curls of her lashes, framing the intensity of her glare. She flings the tiny vicious storm and four demons from the thinning crowd get caught in the blast, instantly freezing solid. Not so useful in Hell, right? Surely they’ll thaw in moments…

Only, the woman with the dry ice eyes takes an ornate hand-cannon from her holster. A sizeable weapon that makes her milk colored hand appear especially small. Four effortless headshots shatter the demon-popsicles into a thousand pieces each; so perhaps an especially effective way to destroy an enemy in Hell. The pieces might come back together…

… You know, eventually.

The stunning gunslinger brings the tip of the metal shaft to her wet blood colored lips, and blows the smoke from the heated tip of her weapon.

She doesn’t notice, beyond the unthreatening pile of dispatched demons, that the cavalry has finally arrived.