Talk:Oomukade/@comment-25095137-20140808135024/@comment-70.234.1.10-20150825053803

Although I initially write it off as a futile endeavor, I lunge for my duffel bag next to the fire. For all the times I wrote it off as a 'cheap piece of Brazilian crap', the heft of the Taurus PT-92 9mm pistol feels reassuring as I bring it out of the duffel bag and aim it at the Oomukade in one fluid motion.

Despite the fact that the Mamono has most likely never seen a semiautomatic pistol before, she clearly senses my intent as she swiftly scuttles away from the firelight. Despite the close range, the first two rounds are high. I continue squeezing off shots as I realize that the Oomukade isn't fleeing, but attempting to approach from another angle. None of my shots seem to finding their mark as I hear them ricochet off the stony interior of the cave. I pivot and squeeze off one more round only to feel something hot and sharp tear into my right leg. As I slump to the ground, I realize that I've managed to shoot myself with my own weapon thanks to an unfortunate ricochet.

"Ah! Damn it...." I cry out, clutching the warm, moist spot on my left leg where I was clipped by my own errant bullet. If the phrase 'Hoisted by his own petard' were in the dictionary, it would be accompanied by a picture of me, bleeding and writhing in pain on the floor of this damp cave.

I didn't realize I was still clutching the 9mm until I felt someone tug at it, gently pulling it from my right hand. It was the Oomukade- she examines the Taurus with an expression of mild curiosity on her face before gently setting the weapon down on a nearby rock, well out of my reach.

Disarmed, I now have her undivided attention as she examines me. Considering I had just attempted to shoot her multiple times, her features appear rather stoic. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if pleading for my life would accomplish anything.

To my surprise, she almost tenderly begins examining my wound, withdrawing her slender hand from my left leg as I wince and cry out in pain.

"You're injured...." she observes absently. Her voice is surprisingly gentle and compassionate. However, a wicked gleam crosses into her eye and the corners of her lips twist into a sly grin as she continues, starting to coil her body around mine, making sure I see her stinger.

"It looks as though I'll have to administer some anesthetic".