"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Namira
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Null sheen.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Abruptly, focus snapped into Kris's eyes. Crystal clear clarity. For once.

For the first time in ...quite a while, she actually saw. No filter, no obscuring mist, no justifications... no excuses. RJ was bearing down on her, sword raised above his head. Half of Kris felt like she deserved whatever he intended to do to her - which was pretty damn obvious. Part was wondering what the hell he was playing at, coming towards her so blatently; what, did he not think she had any capacity to harm him?

A good part though... froze up. This... was fear, genuine fear. Not fear of getting found out, like she'd had the first time she met R.J. Not fear of what she could do to somebody else, like had happened with Amber. This time, Kris was afraid because she didn't want to die.

The feeling came out of nowhere, yet for all that, wasn't entirely unfamiliar, like an old friend that left years back and then made a sudden dramatic entrance. The surprise was still there though, that brief moment of lacking comprehension... before the subtle changes could no longer hide what remained the same, and recognition clicked into place. This... this fear, that was how Kris had felt when holding the gun she'd pulled out of her pack, in those few moments where she was still innocent, still unsullied...

Still not a murderer.

Before she shot Reika.

Lucidity, of a kind. Seeing a replica of a destroyed painting no more restored the original than memories of the dead kept them alive.

With it... guilt. Crushing guilt. Reika. Kimberly (not dead, yet...). Amber. Albert. Janet - oh god what had she done to Janet? Everyone around was treated to the odd sight of Kris's gaze suddenly snapping to the ground, accompanied by an audible whimper.

With that... understanding. It was impossible to use reason, impossible to try to ally with anybody, to seek to be diplomatic. Perhaps, if she'd stuck with Etain, they could've... he might've- no... what happened was all that was ever going to happen. Kris should've forced him to go, ran away from him, the way she had done when he'd stumbled upon her in the swamp after Reika... He wouldn't have left her just because she asked, because... He loved her. The same way, Kris had come to realised, that she loved him.

Too late.

In any case, talking civilly was out.

Which left fighting... and that wouldn't end well for her.

And talking... not so civilly.

Kris held the detonator above her head, fist thrust towards RJ - instantaeously spawning a legion of 'clever' photoshopped screencaps of Nazi imagery. Her face was set.

"There is a block of C4 in my bag, RJ," Kris said matter-of-factly. "Either nobody dies or..." Kris caught sight of somebody not far behind RJ, and her eyes narrowed. "Or everyone. Turn around. Leave."

Was it a bluff?

Kris... wasn't sure.
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