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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Click. Click. Click.

Three dry pulls of the trigger and Jerry finally realized that there were no longer any bullets in the chamber. His wrist felt numb from the sudden kick of the weapon, but that couldn't have been right. It had felt nothing like he thought, like a cannon going off in his hand, something maybe more accurately represented by a .44 or some other crazy handcannon. But, all the same, it was a solid enough pop that it scared him into pulling the trigger again and again.

Until Trav finally fell with only two holes in him. Jerry shivered, stared, shook and pondered if maybe, just maybe, he should nudge Trav's body with his foot to make sure he was dead. Just to be sure.

He hadn't the energy nor the bravery to attempt it. If Trav snapped to life, like something straight out of a horror movie, Jerry's heart would have burst out of his chest then and there and exploded, as if the kidnappers had implanted a bomb deep down inside his guts rather than haphazardly strapped one to his neck. His face was a wreck and poured blood down his lips. His temples weren't faring much better. His head was pounding, his ears ringing from both injury and gunshots.

Jerry collapsed onto his back on the beach and, for a while, all he could do was pant.

"I won... I won..." he breathed. He could breathe easier, now. There was a start.
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Spoilers, Ricky didn't win V5

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