# Ending 1 - Fang's Got A Gun

Title: Ending 1 - Fang's Got A Gun
Status: Complete
Characters: Fang, Naser, Naomi
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Anonymous
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Fang’s bootsteps rang heavy in the empty halls of Volcano High, her slow, steady footfalls beating out the final tempo she would ever hear. It was well into second period now, but she kept a sharp lookout for any other classmates who may be roaming the halls. If anyone spotted her, if anyone she knew called out to her, she may not be able to do what she had to do, may not be able to wake up from her nightmare of a life.
She wondered what Anon was doing right now. Last night with Anon had been…nice, a wonderful oasis in the lifeless desert that had become her life. But she knew it couldn’t last, she knew it for what it was; a mirage, a mirage conjured up by Naomi to drive her away, to smother her. Fang snarled wordlessly at the thought of Naomi, hands clenching hard enough to draw blood.
But that didn’t change the fact that it HAD been nice. Laying there in Anon’s arms afterwards, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest as she tried to collect her thoughts. Lately, those thoughts kept skittering away from her, the ever-present and indecipherable fog that clouded her mind making it hard to focus, making it hard for her to understand what she felt about everything that had happened. What she felt about Anon. Anon had been like a lighthouse for her muddled thoughts, a beacon that guided her like a ship to safe harbor. But now, after finding out who had put that beacon there for her, who had played her like a damn fiddle, Fang wasn’t sure how she felt anymore.
‘Then why did you unplug his alarm?’ A small voice inside her mind asked, interrupting her contemplations. ‘Why text him on your way over here if you weren’t sure what you felt about him? That voice grew louder whenever she thought of Anon, and no matter what she tried to silence it, it always came back. That voice had been VERY loud last night, singing a joyful tune the moment she had pulled him down to his bed. Now, at least, she had been able to reduce that voice to a buzz at the back of her mind, had been able to ignore it. She had to be able to ignore it, or else what she was about to do would be impossible.
Thinking of what she intended made her check her backpack again, made her feel the reassuring weight of the thing nestled beneath her notebooks and other school supplies. Fang chuckled softly: Volcano High had no security to speak of really, and yet she still had hidden that thing away at the bottom of her bag, feeling like everyone whom she passed on the way to school was looking at it. With any luck, her dad wouldn’t notice it was missing until…
“No, Fang. None of those thoughts, not today.” The small voice in her head cried out in agreement, attempting to divert her from what she had set out to do. Fang simply ignored it; she had gotten good at ignoring things lately.
Cresting the stairs to the second floor, she glanced around the still-empty halls, shifting her backpack to unzip the main pocket. Naomi was on this floor, only a few doors down, where no doubt Little Miss Perfect was giving a presentation to some committee, or lecturing them on some other bullshit, or…or… . Fang’s hand clenched around the thing, still hidden in her backpack. She couldn’t let anyone see it, not yet, not until it was too late.
Room 207. Fang’s hand hesitated on the door handle, that small voice in her mind screaming at her through the fog.
“I’m sorry, Anon,” Fang whispered, pushing open the door with one hand, the other still hidden in her backpack.
As one, all heads turned towards her as she stepped into the classroom. It was the Steering Committee: A group of students interested in the direction the school was headed, losers who planned school concerts, organized fundraisers, that kind of crap. Fang couldn’t give less of a shit about that, though. She had found her quarry at last, standing at the podium at the front of the class, shock and confusion clouding her stupid pink face. With a hiss, Fang started to pull her dad’s old service revolver out of her backpack…
“Fang? What are you doing here, are you okay?!” A familiar voice wrenched Fang’s eyes off of Naomi. It was Naser, standing up from his seat in the front row, his eyes positively sick with worry. Of course he would be here, Naomi wouldn’t let him out of her sight, now that Fang was out of the way. Fang tried to pay him no mind, tried to ignore that voice in her head, screaming for her attention.
“Fuck off, Naser, this doesn’t concern you.” Fang’s eyes narrowed at her brother as she fixed him with a withering glare. Inside, Fang’s thoughts were racing as she desperately tried to organize something out of the fog. Naser wasn’t supposed to be here, she had checked his schedule this morning: He was supposed to be at some dumb sports-day until lunch. He must’ve changed at the last minute, or Naomi had… Of course. Naomi, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong once more, meddling in Fang’s life. No more.
Standing there, Fang hadn’t realized Naser was walking towards her, her line of sight on Naomi blocked by her sibling. “Fang, is something wrong?” Naser’s voice snapped Fang out of her daze at once, her eyes re-focusing. Gripping the cold handle of the revolver in her bag, she snarled once more, her teeth barred.
“I said GET OUT! Get the FUCK out of here, Naser!” Screams rang out from the other students in the classroom, students Fang hadn’t even noticed where there. She realized she had pulled her hand out of her backpack, brandishing the gun towards Naomi, towards Naser. The room suddenly went very still.
“Fang, it’s going to be okay,” Naser said slowly, holding his hands up, trying to get Fang’s attention once more. “Look, what happened at Prom, that was fucked up… Those guys had no right to do what they did, but, Fang, it’s going to be okay...” Naser’s voice appeared calm, but Fang could see out of the corner of her eye his one good wing shaking, the same way it always did when he was afraid. Slowly, Naser took another step towards fang, walking down the row of desks, still blocking her line of sight to Naomi.
“Of course it’s going to be okay, I’m going to MAKE it okay,” Fang hissed, spittle flying out of her mouth. Fang could see Naomi over Naser’s shoulder, see her cowering behind her podium. “Is this what was supposed to happen, was this how you wanted to ‘fix’ me? Was I just a, a PUZZLE to you?! Just an obstacle you had to get out of your way?!” The gun rattled in Fang’s hand as she gestured wildly, her motions eliciting more screams from the room.
Naser had stopped moving, his eyes tracing the gun. “Fang, no one was trying to-“
“SHE was trying to! Anon told me about your little plan, Naomi, how you set us up, made us the perfect little couple. How could you do that, how could you USE him like that?!” Naomi had gone white as a sheet, her hands half-raised to protect herself. “You BITCH! I thought I loved him, and instead you just fucking USED him to make me think that!” Fang’s hand was steady now, the barrel aimed directly at Naomi. All she needed was for Naser to get out of her way, and… But Naser wasn’t getting out of her way. Her sibling, who for some reason just would NEVER get out of her life, was still standing there.
“Fang, please, people love you, I love you! Please Fang, j-just put the gun down, it’s going to be okay…” Tears were spilling down Naser’s cheeks now, matching the ones that ran down her own cheeks. Fang could see him getting closer now, could see him standing only a few feet away.
“No Naser, it’s not,” Fang whispered softly, tightening her grip in the revolver. Naser’s eyes went wide, his mothing failing to find his final words.
Several things happened at once. Fang took a step to the side, attempting to clear her line of fire to Naomi. At the same time Naser leapt, throwing his body in the way, the shot intended for Naomi ripping through his abdomen. He landed on a desk with a heavy grunt, sending the whole thing clattering to the floor as he landed hard. One of the students screamed, their cry partially drowned out by the echoing of the gunshot. A metallic scent hung in the air, blue smoke rising from the gun still outstretched in Fang’s arm.
Chaos erupted. Students flung themselves at the door in a desperate attempt to get away from Fang, from Naomi. Naomi herself could only scream, watching as Naser fell. She was still screaming as Fang stepped over the body of her sibling, holding the gun level with her face. The screaming stopped suddenly, another shot echoing through the classroom. Several of the students had been shoved mercilessly by their peers in the mad dash to the door, and were frantically scrambling to their feet as Fang turned away from what remained of Naomi. Some didn’t even try to run when Fang pointed at them, their pleas for mercy silenced with a single gunshot.
Panting, Fang tuned her attention to the open door, the noise from the frantic students echoing down the hall. She could feel her heart pounding, feel her ears ringing from the loud booms of the revolver echoing in the confined space of the classroom. Still clutching the revolver, she began running her other hand mechanically through her wing without noticing, her eyes glazed as she walked into the hall. Other students, initially curious at the shouts coming from room 207, were now cowering back in their rooms or in secluded corners of the hall, attempting to hide away from the growing carnage that was unfolding around them. More screams rang out, gunshots quickly silencing all who dared to speak.
The entire thing lasted barely over a minute. Fang found herself standing in the hall, all alone. She knew she had to stop, a part of her acutely aware of how many bullets she had left. All around, the bodies of students lay where they fell, blood already starting to pool. Fang walked by them all, unseeing, the small voice in the back of her mind sobbing at what she had done. Already the feathers were starting to fall as she continued to preen absent-mindedly, her wing covered with her own blood, the blood of others staining her legs. Fang walked on, past the dead and the dying, past the screaming and the crying, heading up the stairs to the roof where her final bullet would find its target. Thoughts of Anon ran through her head as legs moved mechanically, memories of the time they spent together, of the only happy time in her past few years. Fang could feel the tears starting to flow once more, thinking about Anon, and she hoped somehow he would never discover what she had done. Whispering to herself, Fang pushed open the door to the roof, opening the door to her own grave.
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“Goodbye, Volcano High.”
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