Just saw Wanted-- understood why it ended that way-- but really? I thought Fox was way too badass, so I'm not satisfied. XD (I don't own Wanted by the way, so you no sue)


Title: Dismantle.Repair

Genre: Action/Romance

Warnings: hardcore cursing, mentions of gore

Word Count: 606


To be or not to be?

Her teasing smirk ever so slowly grew on her face and without another doubt, without another thought-- I knew what she was thinking.

My eyes widened as she tilted right, flinging her arm around and with the slightest of pressure from her calloused but deadly finger-- her trigger was pushed, her bullet was bent.

Ya know when you're on a high? When the adrenaline pumping through your veins just has your brain go dead for a couple of seconds? And in that time, isn't there always a decision, a fucking choice you have to make? Then there's that fact, that damn fact that if you don't make up your mind, you'll miss an opportunity to just, do something right for once? Yeah... been there.

It felt like I was underwater, like instead of time stopping or slowing, it felt like my body, her body, her bullet, and the revolver she tossed my way ebbed slowly through a crap load of H2O-- it felt fucking awesome.

Gritting my teeth, I didn't care about the code, about what I had claimed that whole time-- what I had learned through sweat, tears, and a shitload of blood. Fuck Sloan, that bastard had done this, had started all this shit-- now my dad's dead, I'm not, and that woman, that damn woman (I had to, no, I needed to know why was it 'fox?') that showed up in my life, literally stole my identity, beat the crap out of it, and built me as I was now-- was about to be dead.

The bullet tore through each head, it's bloody red trail spiraling around the room intent on getting to it's last target.

Fuck that.

Shifting my weight on my left side, I kicked out with my right leg using the momentum to slowly spin. I grinded my teeth, sweat slicked off my lashes as I shot out my right arm, shot out my right hand to Fox's revolver-- taking it, cocking it, grasping it-- I glanced up, catching that grin (oh man, those lips), as if she was saying all sorts of things, things that I couldn't understand or wasn't able to, or just wasn't ready to. I threw her back one of my own, probably one like that retarded grin I had had after she kissed me (god, those lips) in my cheating girlfriend and shitbag best friend's apartment? Who knows.

Her eyes widened and her grin faltered.

Fate huh? I think Fate's telling me something right about now--

Her bullet swung around and streaked closer to her head, inches, seconds from the side of her crown.

--But really? I don't give a shit.

I clenched my teeth, stiffened my arm, swung my wrist and let my own bullet bend. Flying, screeching, tearing through the air--in front of her face (like before, just like before), and towards her bullet.

She's gonna kick my ass for this.

They collided (weirdly, it was kind of sexy-- if you think about it) and fell down, down, down and landed. Bodies fell, one by one, but the only thing I heard was the oh-so familiar delicious sound of the smashed bullets hitting the floor and trains, a rush of trains (remember that one time?) in my ears, in my head, all around me.

She's so gonna kick my ass for this.

Our eyes locked. She breathed out and I breathed in. Out and in, out and in, out and--

Damn, I can't wait.