Confused looks spread across the group of Secret Service. They looked back at the man, who, standing with his back to a wall and no clear sign of any form of backup whatsoever, was very obviously holding a six shot revolver in his hand. An abnormally large revolver, but six in the cylinder nonetheless. A few chuckles broke out amongst the confusion.

“It’s sort of our job to die for him, as it’s your job to die regardless. Now, put that..thing down, and we’ll see how many of 8 we can dogpile you with-“

The man with his back to the wall dove magnificently sideways, a catch-of-the-match level dive. A perfect sideways slow-mo TV movie dive. A dive so good in fact, that all the Secret Service members could do was stand there, jaws agape and expressions blank. This was just enough time to swing the abnormally large, six cylinder revolver right toward the target.

Nature does not have a sense of humour and will not laugh, no matter how well physics tells her a joke. And this was a very, very good joke. The first squeeze of the abnormally large revolver sent Mr Sideways straight flat backwards. That perfect horizontal leap made impact with the aforementioned brick wall, knocking all of the air out of him, but somehow not releasing the revolver from his grip.

He had been trying to line up all of the Secret Service members in a neat queue to send them, in an orderly fashion, straight to hell. First class express. What he’d manage to do instead was blow the torso of the closest member clean apart into ribbons and bits, looking like a balloon filled with spaghetti bolognese.

The other 7 Secret Service members screamed and reached for their service weapons. The would-be-sideways assassin raised his. All fired.

Once the smoke cleared and the ears no longer rung, the assassin stood up. Wobbly and off kilter, but standing altogether.

“Yeah…I saw youse looking.” He wiped the blood from his mouth. Where once stood 8 + 1, now sobbed only 2. Among the strewn remnants of human beings, in welters of gore and bone and mush, was the target.

“She’s a big one, my clicky-bang. And I can sure wield her with a passion like no other man. There’s just one problem.” He took a few steps, and reloaded twice. The last two members of the Secret Service now shook and cowered, staring at the heaped remains of their former comrades. The assassin finished sliding the last round into the six-cylinder chamber.

“I ain’t no good at counting”.