The echoing gunfire sound faded into silence, and the smoke rising from the gun barrel vanished into the air.
"... Either you're an idiot, or you're just a masochist."
A look of disappointment painted the redhead's face.
A bullet was fired, but before it could reach its target, a wall appeared in front of it—a wall of muscle covered in white fur.
Werewolf stood with his eyes wide open. After parrying that missile, a bullet seemed like nothing. Not only was it slower, but the force behind it was barely enough for him to feel a tingle.
The bullet itself wasn't what left the white hero shocked— it was the fact that the redhead didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, almost as if he had intended on killing the old man.
"You… you were about kill him…"
"In self-defense," the redhead replied. "Didn't you just see him try to blow up my head?"
A sound argument, but Werewolf wasn't about to buy it.
