[Center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/191025/b775f0ba0483060c7cb2b54cafacaf7b.png[/img]

[color=yellow]MENTIONS:[/color] [@Ambra] [@NachoBachoPacho][/Center]

[hr]

Okay, okay. He could handle this. This situation went to shit fast but all he had to do was get--

[color=yellow][sub]"Fuck!"[/sub][/color]

All he had to do was--

[color=yellow][sub]"Ahck!"[/sub][/color]

All--

[color=yellow][sub][sub]"Goddamnit!"[/sub][/sub][/color]

Every time Donny attempted to struggle to his feet, he was met with a boot again. Continuously he found himself getting kicked down, resetting his mind to getting up, only to get kicked down again. He was, needless to say, pissed. But he couldn't do much about it aside from keep trying. Blood leaked from his mouth as the kicks began taking effect on him more, not entirely sure if the guy had broken something important yet.

Eventually, Donny found himself stuck. Beaten, laying in the dirt, threats of a bullet causing him to struggle to no avail. So this was how he was going to go out, huh? Not winning the race, not even during the race: The man above him was about to turn his brains into a road decoration for the birds to eat. He gritted his teeth, trying to push up, but he felt all hope leave up as a shot rang out.

...

...?

Donny opened his eyes, finding that the pressure on his back was gone. A man crying out from a shot caused his eyes to dart around; A man, big stache, nice hat; He had shot the man? At least if the still smoking gun was any indication. He was saved. Donny hadn't expected anything but the end, over a few damn coins at that. But at this point he figured he ought to be happy he was alive.

A voice rang out behind him; Back where the men were. Sounded like a woman, talking trash to the men he had gotten in a fight with. Okay, maybe he had more help than he thought; Most people would've just left it alone, Donny was surprised. What were they getting out of it? He had nothing to offer; He was gambling with those shambles just to get a chance at some supplies for the race. But now they were fleeing? He wouldn't get his money... At least he had his life.

The woman had demanded he stand, but Donny was admittedly struggling a bit as she nudged him. He was taken by surprise as he was pulled up by the collar of his shirt, stumbling as she released him, finding balance as she dusted him off. Another action he hadn't expected, and overall this situation was somehow becoming more uneasy than having just gotten shot in the head. This was bizarre, to say the least.

[color=yellow]"Seems like I owe it to you."[/color] He spoke, seemingly talking to just the woman. But, after a moment, he did turn and point towards the gunman; Taking note of how he tried to hide his large figure behind what, compared to the man himself, was a tiny pistol. [color=yellow]"[sub]Ho, Ho...[/sub] You're a pretty good shot with that thing. I saw what you did, of course."[/color] He commented on the situation with relief for being alive, not wanting to say much, but... While his family lacked honor in any sense of the word, Donny still felt a little in debt to the gunman.

He figured it might be worth bringing up later.

[color=yellow]"You too, of course."[/color] He spoke as he spun back around to the woman, looking up to her face with some blood still leaking down his chin. Upon taking another look at her, she was... Surprisingly tall. Like, tall enough Donny had to tilt his head to look up to her face. It was embarrassing, in a way. But with a height like his, these things were expected. They usually weren't [i]this much[/i] taller than he was, though.

[color=yellow]"Donny Brando,"[/color] He introduced himself, holding out a hand. He offered a smile, but as he did so, one of his teeth fell out, leaving a gap. Seems like he didn't get away terribly free; But he also hadn't even noticed it happened yet, so he'd probably be just fine.