@lxzarus :: never let me drive the angst train...
“You don’t have it in you, Crowe.”
Words designed to taunt her, no doubt. When their roles had been reversed, had he hesitated even for a second? No. He’d pulled that trigger with no regret and left her there to die alone in the dirt in Leide. Now she was the one holding the gun, she held the power and yet she hesitated. Could it be the memory of the man she’d once called brother? No. Couldn’t be. That person no longer existed.
“Don’t I?” Weapon held in her left hand, right raises to steady her aim. Firearms had never been her weapon of choice, never her strongest suit but she could shoot in a straight line. Magic had been her go to — now beyond her reach after the death of the King and so she made do. Blades were still a work in progress, skill considered rusty but improving with training and so, despite vehement protests, they’d given her a gun. The noise got to her less these days, she could hear shots without invoking memories she’d rather forget.
“I’d ask you why you did it,” eyes lock with his, “But I don’t need to hear your bullshit excuses.” The radio at her hip crackles, a report requested and a request ignored. It could wait. She keeps the weapon aimed squarely at his chest, hands still steady. “I don’t need to know who gave the order,” head cants to one side, “Don’t even need to know who was in it with you.” All the questions she’d thought she’d ask if ever the opportunity arose seem unimportant next to her desire to make him feel what she had. That same agony — after all, she’s not above revenge.
“Are you going to stand there all day? Just pull it already!”
Left index finger tightens around the trigger as her aim lowers. “I hope it was worth it,” her gaze never wavers, her dark eyes remain locked with his, “I really do.” And with that, barrel aimed at his lower abdomen, she pulls the trigger. One shot, that’s all. Her plan had been to put that bullet in the same place he’d shot her but her aim is off by an inch or two. Oh well. Close enough.
A few steps is enough to close the gap between where she had stood and where Luche had crumpled to the dirt. “Guess these aren’t hollow points after all,” she holsters her weapon and pulls the radio from her hip, “Think yourself lucky, Lazarus.” She spits his name as though it leaves a bad taste in her mouth before turning on her heel. The radio crackles ones more, another request for her status, no doubt that shot would’ve turned a few heads.
“Altius reporting,” she walks away, leaving him the same way he had once left her, “The shot? Just some Niff traitor, taken care of. On my way back to HQ now.”
