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No I don't wanna die...

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... so you're gonna have to.

Story:

Sweeney opened his eyes to find himself bloody and dusty. He shook his head only to be interrupted by a pain in his chest. He winced and looked down at the source of the burning pain. He'd been shot.

"So that's why I was out cold." he muttered to himself in a wheezy tone. He rolled over onto his side and then his stomach to push his tired body up. He had to go after the person that shot him. They took his supplies, and without them, he'd surely die. With a determined growl, he pushed himself up and grabbed his left shoulder which also had the familiar pain of a bullet wound. It's not that he wasn't used to being shot, It was just a pain to move around until he could dig the bullets out, which he lacked the supplies to do so at this point. He took a deep breath, only to be cut short by the pain of his expanding lungs around the bullet. His eyes twitched in frustration, but he smirked when he caught a foreign scent. His thief.

After almost a solid hour of trying to find the coward that shot him, he walked upon a grayed river. In the apocalypse, water didn't always mean life. It sometimes meant radiation. Taking a chance, He slid his bloody hands into the cool water with a soft splashing sound. He brought his hands to his blood-wridden lips only to have a bullet hit the dry ground beside him. His icy eyes shot back only to see the barrel of his revolver sticking inches from his face. The rugged bandit behind it laughed with a crackled, glass-garggled tone.

"What are you laughing at." Sweeney demanded rather than asked.

"You! You should've seen your face!" The bandit continued to snicker and mock the white wolf.

Before he could wipe a tear, the bandit felt a firm hand grab his wrist and then his bicep. He went to deflect it, only to be cut off by the sickening crunch as his elbow was forced upwards. He yelled in pain, trying to grab his limp arm. Sweeney found his feet, still holding the broken arm. He growled warningly and grabbed his revolver before throwing the bandit over his shoulder and into the shallow water, head first.

Coughing, the bandit struggled to find his feet, shocked the man he shot earlier still put up a fight.

Sweeney stared at him for a minute, studying his movements, before he aimed his black and silver revolver in his face.

"n-no... Don't shoot. I didn't mean to hurt you." The bandit pleaded.

Sweeney's brows creased together into a large frown and he almost had a sneer on his face.

"Your words mean nothing to me, Bandit. Where's my supplies." He growled.

"Why do you need them.. you're about to die anyway, aren't you? No one can survive a bullet in the chest for too long." The Bandit hissed at him between bore teeth.

" Unlike you, I don't wanna die... So you're gonna have to."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anywho... Once upon a time, :iconbroken-arts: commented on a WIP drawing of Sweeney wearing his trench coat and said he'd like to see Sweeney aiming a gun. I only replied by saying " maybe one day"

So, today was that day. I've always wanted to draw Sweeney aiming his revolver, but i've had little skills to do so until now.

I hope you guys like this, and i haven't written a story in forever so i hope you liked it too ;)


Character and art (c) me

Inspired by:

-- I don't wanna die- Hollywood undead
-- Ain't no rest for the wicked- Cage the Elephant
-- Dragula- Rob Zombie
-- Coming Undone- Korn



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