"What's going on, then?" Mordecai wondered.

"Miss M. wants me and Freckle to protect the speakeasy in case Asa sends people over to attack us," Rocky explained.

"Is that why you have that?" Mordecai pointed to the gun Rocky held in his right hand.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Rocky held his hand up. He held the gun by its barrel, his fingers nowhere near the trigger. "I'm not really sure I can use it well, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Last time I can remember using a gun, I did this." He pointed to his left ear— the one which he had shot in the past.

"Hmph. On purpose?"

"No, of course it wasn't on purpose." Rocky very lightly pushed Mordecai. The two were a few feet apart from each other, Rocky leaned against the car in the garage. Mordecai simply stood in front of it. The light was on in the room, although it was still a bit dim.

"Well, why do you have a gun now?"

Rocky sighed. "Viktor reinjured himself, I guess, so Miss M. needs me to be the one who watches over the garage while Freckle stays in the speakeasy, serving drinks and all that."

"What did Viktor do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Reopened his wounds maybe? Slipped? I'll ask Miss M. later."

"Alright then. Do you think that you can use a gun again?"

"No," Rocky stated

"Did you tell Mitzi that?"

"No," Rocky groaned.

"Why not?"

"If I didn't do it, who would?"

"I know how to use a gun."

"Well, yeah, obviously. But she doesn't trust you. You know that."

"I suppose I wouldn't either." Mordecai muttered, practically an aside. He stepped forward. "Here, I'll attempt to teach you how to use that gun."

"You think you can?" Rocky stood.

"Yes. It's not too difficult."

"Alright, sure. Show me." Rocky handed Mordecai the gun.

For a split second, Mordecai thought about how he could escape so easily in that moment. He had a gun, and Rocky didn't. He was alone, far away from anyone who could oppose him. The door out was right there! But he pushed that thought from his mind. Instead he looked at the gun. He looked at… his gun.

"Mitzi gave you this?" Mordecai asked.

"Yeah! Why?"

"This is my gun— the one she took from me some weeks ago."

"Oh. Weird."

"This is a left-handed gun, Rocky."

"There are left-handed guns? I had no idea."

"Are you left-handed?"

"No, I'm not."

"Why in the world would she give you a left-handed gun, then? Or my gun, for that matter?" Well, Mordecai had stolen all of their guns only a few days before his capture. Maybe that was why. But if business had been doing so well, couldn't she buy more? Mordecai stopped thinking about it.

"Uh, I don't know. What happens if I use a left-handed gun?"

"Not too much. It might just be easier to use it left-handed. Or you can use it in your right hand, although it might be a bit harder to do."

"I doubt I'll be better with either my right or my left hand."

"Well," Mordecai handed Rocky back the gun, "Go ahead and aim at…" Mordecai looked around. "that box." Mordecai gestured to a small box sat upon a shelf.

"Uh, okay." Rocky started to move. "Should I shoot it, then?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. If your cousin hears it, he'll come in here thinking someone's breaking in. I would prefer not to be shot by him."

"Huh. Yeah." Rocky adjusted himself and ended up stood normally, holding the gun with one hand, maybe a foot in front of him, aimed vaguely at the box. It was an obviously bad way to hold the gun.

"Hm," Mordecai judged.

"'Hm?' Oh, no. That's not good."

"No. It's not." Mordecai walked in front of Rocky, who looked at him with concern as Mordecai further observed how he was stood. The Mordecai walked behind Rocky. "Stand with your feet at shoulder width; keep your feet facing forward."

Rocky repositioned himself, doing as Mordecai had instructed. "Like this?"

"Yes. Bend your knees slightly." Rocky did so. "Bend forward."

"What? Like this?" Rocky bent at a nearly ninety-degree angle. He was clearly not being genuine, but… no, he wasn't being genuine, surely. He didn't think that that could have been correct.

"No, no. Stand up." Rocky stood up completely straight. "Like this." Mordecai put his hands on Rocky's hips. He was bony, yet warm. Mordecai was stood behind Rocky, holding him as Mordecai tried to guide him through using the gun. In that closeness, with that touch, Mordecai realized just how much he was pining for Rocky, and in an instant, Mordecai's perception of the issues that had clouded his mind in the past week changed. Rocky was warm. It felt nice. But Mordecai continued on and bent Rocky forward slightly at the waist and quickly withdrew his hands.

There was a tangible silence that permeated the garage for a moment. The two simply didn't have anything to say for a second, simply existing in what had happened. Then, "Uh, what next?" Rocky, somewhat nervously, half-smiled.

"Hold the gun with your left hand, put your right hand on over that," Mordecai muttered. Rocky seemed confused for a moment. Mordecai stepped around Rocky and slowly repositioned his hands on the gun, holding Rocky's hands in his hands. He held the gun in the proper way then. Mordecai looked up, as did Rocky. Looking into each other's eyes for an awkward, hurried second before they pulled back and Mordecai took a step backward. He cleared his throat. "Hold the gun up at arm's length and aim at the box."

Rocky took aim at the box. Mordecai could clearly see that if he pulled the trigger, he would miss by several inches. Stepping to the side, Mordecai grabbed the end of the gun and gently repositioned it. "Look at the front sight, at the end of the gun. Use that to aim at the center of the box." Mordecai pulled away. Rocky observed what Mordecai had done.

"This is good?" Rocky questioned.

Mordecai took another glance. "That's good."

"Do I have to do this every time I shoot at someone?"

"If by whatever means you get involved in a shootout, no. You probably won't be able to get into this exact stance, but remember to get as close as you can. Hold the gun in front of you to avoid the gun's recoil. Hold it with two hands, especially while you're new and using a left-handed gun. Keep control over the gun and make sure that you aim exactly where you want to shoot," Mordecai lectured.

"Where do I shoot people?"

"Do you want to kill them?"

"Should I?"

"Probably. If you don't want to kill people, you should shoot for lower arms and lower legs. They'll most likely stop shooting at you and can survive if they get medical assistance." Mordecai thought back to the very similar thoughts he had had while aiming at Viktor. He shuddered slightly, but talked through it. "But if you don't kill them, they can still be a threat if they're hellbent to kill you, and they'll shoot you through their own pain and blood loss." Viktor sprinted through the complete destruction of one knee, and it took the other getting shot to topple him. Mordecai didn't want to think about that. "If someone breaks in here, it might be better to shoot with the intent to kill."

"Where do I aim for that?"

"Between the collarbones," Mordecai gestured on his own body with his hand, "down to about the sternum." He mimed a triangle on his chest, going from left clavicle to right, down to the sternum, and back up to the left.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Your heart and all that stuff's there."

"Indeed."

"Can I… stop standing like this?" Rocky was still standing with his feet apart, arms outstretched towards the box.

"Yes. I don't know why you didn't stop earlier." And with Mordecai's lesson finished, he and Rocky continued talking. Rocky set the gun aside, and it wasn't brought up again. The two simply began conversing as they did whenever the two of them were together with nothing much else to do. It was nice for them to talk to each other, though, of course, and they probably would be conversing even if there were other things to do.

It was nearly an hour later, with the two playing with a pack of cards they had found on one of the shelves while sat on crates against the wall, with another one serving as a table between the two of them.

"So what did he actually say?" Mordecai wondered.

"I've got no idea. Something about that cake, but how was I supposed to know what he said? I mean, even if he hadn't been mumbling it, his tongue had still been stung by a bee," Rocky continued.

"I faintly remember being in a situation that wasn't too unlike that. I think—" There was a clang coming from one of the garage doors.

"What was that?" Rocky looked at the door itself. It sounded like something metal had hit it. "Did something fall off or something?"

"I hardly think that th—" There was someone in the small window in the door. They looked in, and peeping up beside them was a large gun. Perhaps a rifle of some kind. "Oh no." Mordecai stood and Rocky jumped up off of the crate and grabbed the gun, feeling it integral to defend the garage, himself, and Mordecai. Adrenaline began to course through his veins.

The door was beginning to be opened. Mordecai saw Rocky with the gun and began to quickly repeat what he had said earlier as a refresher right before the intrusion. "Feet shoulder-width apart. Gun arm's length in front of you. Focus on the front sight. Put your finger on the trigger. Aim for the upper chest."

Rocky adjusted himself as each command was sternly listed out. The door burst open, and a large grunt holding some sort of hunting rifle rushed in, aiming at Rocky. Rocky pulled the trigger before the other could aim past the door, and Rocky's bullet landed right below the base of the neck, slightly to their left. The intruder nearly immediately collapsed, dropping the gun. A pool of blood was forming quickly on the ground.

Rocky looked aside and released his held breath. "That wasn't diffi—"

"There are more," Mordecai pointed to the door, quickly.

Rocky looked back, and indeed, there were more. Another simply stepped over the man on the floor bleeding out and brandished a Tommy. Rocky hastily put himself back in position and aimed again. Mordecai was sat nearly behind the car, trying to avoid being shot. Rocky landed a shot in the right shoulder of Tommy guy, and he recoiled, nearly dropping his gun. As he moved to the side and tried to get out of the way of gunfire, another came from behind and aimed at Rocky's head. Rocky leaned to the side the moment he saw that. It missed, although it would have missed without Rocky moving, as it were.

With another shot, the third guy's neck was blown open, a bullet landing in his trachea. Rocky looked from him to a fourth guy. He took aim at Rocky's abdomen. His aim was off, and he only grazed the right side of Rocky's hip. It hurt, but with adrenaline, he didn't yet feel it. Instead, he pulled the trigger again and struck the arm of the fourth grunt, who flinched with a shout. He went back to the first guy who was taking aim again and hit him in the right thigh.

Rocky was managing the slow trickle of intruders through the bottleneck that was the small doorway. Mordecai handed him ammo that Mitzi had given him, and he ducked down out of the way of gunfire as he reloaded. As he popped back up, he continued to manage alright, only being grazed one more time, this time by his shin. he was considering himself lucky, through everything that was happening. The intruders were thinning and the ones that entered now were more apprehensive, with the remaining group nearing retreat before they entered the garage.

Mordecai watched on with anxiety as well as a sense of near-pride; Mordecai had prepared him to do all of these things. But he also saw as one of the last few grunts slipped past Rocky's attention and to the walls at the side of the room. He approached Rocky from the side, somewhat behind. Rocky couldn't see him, and the grunt's gun was drawn, pointed right at his heart. Mordecai stood up and grabbed a chair missing a leg from behind the car. He turned back around and with as much force as he could muster, smashed it over the head of the assailant. Rocky turned to see the grunt recoiling and no longer aiming at Rocky, who took the opportunity afforded to him by Mordecai to shoot him in the chest, square in the sternum.

It felt like forever had passed by the time it was all done, but it had not even been a minute. Rocky had gotten out of everything practically unscathed, and before him lie maybe ten dying or dead shooters. And by the flowers pinned upon their lapels, it was easy to see that they were Marigolds. The door was propped open by corpses in the threshold, and the blood puddle was yet still growing. So, while Rocky and Mordecai calmed down from what had just unfolded, they quickly realized that they would need to clean this up.

Just then, an utterly panicked Freckle popped up from the trapdoor in the garage. His gun was aimed out, and he was about ready to shoot at the pile of corpses until Rocky, winded, said, "Freckle?"

"Rocky?" Freckle blurted out, searching for the voice's origin. "What's happening?"

Rocky reached out and opened the trapdoor all the way. "Some Marigolds visited us."

"Is it done?" He began to step up the stairs, the steps which had been made slippery with blood that drained downward.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Freckle asked, looking over the blood-spattered Rocky.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Both of us are alright." Rocky looked to Mordecai who was walking over from the side. Freckle looked at him as he appeared out of the corner of Freckle's eye.

"Everything's alright now? They're all dead? You haven't been shot?"

"I mean, there's this to deal with." Rocky gestured to the near pile of corpses. "And I think I might have actually been a little injured, now." Rocky's free hand went to his hip, which was bleeding. It could be seen through the small tear the bullet had created in the fabric of his clothes.

"Are you alright? Are you bleeding?" Freckle was getting nervous again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, Freckle," Rocky somehow smiled. "I'll be fine in a bit. You just go get Miss M. so we can deal with all of this, and I'm just gonna… sit here for a minute." Rocky slowly lowered himself onto the crate he had previously been sitting on with a groan. He was starting to feel the pain and notice the blood.

"Yeah. Okay." Freckle nodded. He looked over to Mordecai. With a disgruntled look, he stated, "Stay here." And Freckle went back into the tunnels to go get Mitzi.

Mordecai sat down back on the crate he had been sitting on. The cards between them were still there, although they now had drops of blood sprinkled onto them, blasted from the flesh of the intruders and flying across the room onto their game. Mordecai looked up from the cards to see Rocky, clutching his hip and wincing. "Did you get shot?"

"No, I don't think so. I think it just missed me," Rocky groaned. He pulled his hand away from the injury, revealing blood and a small, but significant, gash in his side. It seemed to miss any major arteries or veins. He probably wouldn't even bleed too much more. Rocky's hands returned to the wound. "And I think the same thing happened to my leg, too." Rocky extended his injured leg, revealing another ripped piece of clothing. Through the hole in his pant leg, Mordecai could see a slightly smaller gash in Rocky's leg. It probably didn't hit a major blood vessel, but Mordecai wasn't completely sure.

"Your hip hurts more?" Mordecai asked.

"Yeah. Why? Is my leg worse?" Rocky tried to get a good look at it.

"No, I don't think so. But there are more blood vessels down there. I think you'll be fine."

"I hope so. And I don't think I really wanna do this again." Rocky winced, then pulled a weak, yet genuine, smile. "Next time, you do the shooting."

Mordecai looked down slightly, feeling an empathetic, slightly anxious, and uncharacteristically genuine smirk form on his face. "That might be a good idea."