"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.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Kris breathed again. He hadn't called it, bluff or no. She'd gained a little breathing space. For now. Kris wasn't entirely sure she deserved it. Yet... for her guilt... Kris didn't want to die. She didn't want to be another corpse. RJ was staring at her, then... backing off. But the intent look in his eyes told her simply that it wasn't the last she'd heard of this. Heading back to the girl, was he?

She had a bad feeling about this, Kris's hand holding the detonator wavered. RJ didn't have the look of somebody who'd given up. Kris watched RJ, half an eye on the squeak that had come from nearby. Less of a threat, much less. Kris watched, and swiftly, she realised.

Not retreat.

Farewell.


...What was she sitting on?

Cool metal.

Snatch of...

The voice.

Best kill award.

Town center.

BKA.

Town center.

This box...


Kris slowly, in a near daze, rose to her feet. Turned. There was the box at her feet. Large, cuboid.

A box... a container.

Kris looked down at it, back to RJ. Back to the container. RJ was moving towards her. Time for a gamble. Time to put her faith in the man that had made her four times a murderer, purely because like before... she was too selfish to set aside herself.

Whatever, Kris was never a saint. Repentence. ...tear. That wasn't going to change anything, not anymore.

She opened the box.

...

Beautiful.


A light came into Kris's eyes as she looked on it.

An M79 grenade launcher.

Gently, almost reverantly, Kris reached down, picked the weapon up, hefted it, cradling it in her arms like a child.

Smile.

Kris swerved around, her attention on the weapon and the box before it meaning she hadn't yet spotted Aston. She raised the grenade launcher, pointed it straight at the advancing RJ. Pulled the trigger.

Click.

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