Snake made his way down the litter-lined street, his eyes alert for trouble. Not that he was expecting any, but one never knows. He had made enemies of some very bad people. And they were the type to hang out in this part of town, and at this God-forsaken hour.
Yet, so far, nothing out of the ordinary concerned him. Bums, mostly, but no one he couldn't take with one hand tied behind his back. Their stench was worse than any physical threat they posed. He walked around the few who chose a piece of sidewalk for their bed.
A small grouping of young men lingered across the street, under one of the few working lamps. Snake smirked at the sight of them, all tough and angry. And so young. He thought of himself a few short years ago, just as clueless then as these kids were now.
As he rounded the corner, he was immediately plunged into blackness. A single street lamp was lit, creating a cone of light in a tunnel of dark.
Then his eyes caught sight of her.
Frankly, she was hard to miss. She was the only other person on the street. That he could see, anyway.
As if the light was meant for her alone, she stood in its center, one hand on her hip, the other holding a long cigarette. Her height was exaggerated by too-high heels and a skirt so short he didn't see a need for it.
As he grew closer, his attention was pulled from her legs to her chest. The top she wore was taut, to say the least. It was red and shiny, probably faux leather. Obviously, she needed help getting into it. And out of it.
He stopped short of the circle of light that surrounded her. The smile on his lips was practiced, but the lust in his eyes instinctive.
Red hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. She looked him up and down, taking a long drag from the lipstick stained cigarette.
All the warnings, all the advice to avoid women like her was quickly hushed by the rush of blood in his veins. His heart pounded. He reminded himself he wasn't a kid anymore and willed himself to act cool. He opened his mouth to say hello, and that's when he saw the small gun, as her hand moved from her hip.
His intense training took over and her wrist was in his hand before she could aim the weapon. He twisted it, enough to get her to loosen her grip, but not has hard as he wanted to. The gun was in his free hand before he pushed her into the brick wall. They were now partially hidden in the darkness.
"Who sent you?" he asked, his face inches from hers, their bodies pressed together. "Who are you?"
"Mountains." she said, her red lips barely parting.
He thought he misheard. "Mountains? Is that some sort of code?"
For the first time, she smiled. Red hair fell over one eye, and down onto her chest. She was beautiful, he had to admit. He felt the tension growing between them.
"My name." she answered, her breathe so hot on his neck. "Rocky Mountains."
He audibly gulped. Distracted, he wasn't quick enough to stop her as she pushed her cigarette into his neck.
"Damn!" he yelped, pushing away from her.
As he did, she stumbled and the heel broke off one of her stilettos. She grasped at the wall for stability, wobbling unsteadily. As she adjusted herself, the poor quality of her top became apparent. The buttons, loose from the strain of holding her femininity in tact, broke free and soared through the air.
And that is how Snake Plissken lost his eye.
Check out what the other Theme Thursday participants have sewn up for "button".