Axel Griffin

The mall was packed, like always. Axel wove through the crowds, his boots thudding against the worn linoleum that should have been replaced years ago. The familiar scent of pretzels and cheap perfume filled his nose as he dodged around groups of teenagers. He came to get a new hoodie, not deal with wannabe scene kids or whatever they called themselves these days. He didn't bother looking around- he didn't need to.

Just the usual crowd of girls skipping school to hang out at the mall and guys desperately trying to get their attention.

The familiar darkness of Hot Topic welcomed him, My Chemical Romance's "Helena" playing through the speakers. He moved through the racks of band shirts and studded belts, fingers trailing over the jewelry display. The silver lip rings caught his attention - he did need a new one. His current one was getting worn, the black coating chipping away. But it could wait, right?

His Blackberry vibrated in his pocket. Ziggy, again. Messages about Jarvis hooking up with... what was her name? Stacy? Sophie? He couldn't remember, and honestly, he didn't care. She was just another willing body in a long line of hook-ups. Protected, of course - he wasn't that stupid. He sent back a short "whatever" before grabbing a few hoodies and that damn lip ring he tried convincing himself he didn't need.

Standing at the counter, something felt... wrong. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, a chill running down his spine despite the mall's stuffy warmth. Call it paranoia, call it intuition - something just felt off. The feeling followed him out of the store, as he clutched his shopping bag.

He headed toward the food court, actually looking at the crowd now. Families eating together, couples sharing milkshakes, normal everyday scenes that suddenly felt threatening. He shook his head, chastising himself for being so damn paranoid. He needed a cigarette, as he looked over the crowd.

His fingers had just brushed his phone when the first shot rang out - a sharp, distinctive pop that he knew too well. Being a drug dealer taught you things. Like the difference between fireworks and gunfire. Between backfiring cars and bullets finding their marks. This was definitely the latter.

Another shot exploded through the air, and then the screaming started. Pure chaos erupted as people began to run, parents snatching up their children. Boyfriend's grabbing their girlfriends. It turned into a stampede of people running, rapid gunfire filling the food court.

Through the pandemonium, he saw them - someone standing completely still, frozen like a statue while death danced around them. Without thinking, Axel moved. His body acted before his brain could process the danger, tackling them to the ground and sliding them both under a table. He covered their smaller frame with his own, creating a human shield.

"Don't move," he growled, his heart hammering so hard he was sure they could feel it against their own chest. The shots continued, a horrifying rhythm punctuated by screams and the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the floor. The metallic scent of blood and the acrid scent of gunpowder began to overpower the mall's usual food court smell, making his stomach turn.

He could feel them trembling beneath him, their breath coming in short, terrified gasps. Instinctively, he tightened his hold, trying to make them feel secure even as his own fear threatened to overwhelm him. "Shh, shh, don't make a sound." His voice was steady despite the fear. "I'm Axel," he whispered, lips close to their ear, "and I swear I'll get you out of here alive, but you have to trust me, okay? Just... trust me."

He pulls back to meet their eyes, his heart breaking at the fear he sees in them. They're not made for this shit and that... That makes him feel more protective over them. This stranger that was thrust into violence on a day they were just meant to be shopping, enjoying their day.

The gunfire seemed to move farther away, each shot echoing through the now-empty food court. Axel's heart continued to race as he carefully shifted, trying to get a better view of their surroundings while keeping his body firmly over the stranger beneath him. Empty trays littered the floor, abandoned meals growing cold on tables. A forgotten phone buzzed nearby, screen lighting up with messages that would go unanswered.

"We need to move," he whispered, his lips barely moving. "There's a service corridor behind the Chinese place. Used to use it for... business." He felt them nod against his chest, their breathing still rapid. "When I say go, we're going to go. Stay low, stay quiet, and follow my lead."

He waited, counting the seconds between shots, trying to gauge the shooter's location. The sounds were coming from the west wing now - they'd have to move east, toward the service corridor. If his memory served right, it would lead them to the loading docks. He blows out a breath, slowly rising to a crouch beneath the table. He looks around, not seeing anyone. He looks back down at them.

"Stay with me, okay? Don't shut down. I need you to hold my hand and do not let go. Whatever you hear, whatever you see. Keep your eyes on that counter," he points to the counter. He helps them to a crouch, and he nods. "Good, good. You're doing great, babe," he squeezes their trembling hand for reassurance. He starts to climb under the table, his eyes moving around the food court.

"Don't look okay? Keep your eyes on that counter." He can't let them see the bodies that litter the floor. Blood and violence. "Let's go," he whispers, pulling them toward the counter.