Laughter, past the spittle and froth that reddens.
That collects at the bottom of his mouth, trickles out past teeth that no longer set so well in the jaw. That pools underneath him in a small, but ever-growing lake. His eyes close, head bowing a little as the arms that hold up shake and quiver.
His strength is failing, and the holes in his gut are a good reason why.
He’s not surprised to have met the other here, not when the target had been easy- even for him. When it had been such a good Ops, getting his people in and out with the information- and even a target. When it had gone off almost effortlessly.
When he knew it was going to go to shit as soon as he’d heard the soft surrsation of ash and nanites behind him- only to twist and catch buckshot in the unprotected and armored side of his gut.
And Gabe’s guns always made a bigger exit than entrance, just like the man himself.
He murmurs- waiting for the wraith to kneel down to hear- because Gabe couldn’t ever control his urge to gloat when he thought the chips were down in his favor. The old soldier waits, waits until that mask with it’s mocking laugh is just within range—
- and he lunges, capturing the sides of that kevlar armor, digging fingers in to hold him in place.
That owl mask is knocked off, a bloody kiss planted against the ruined lips there, a fitting goodbye for what’s going to happen, for their parting once more. He smiles as Gabe snarls at him in disgust, rearing back to let him fall.
But it’s okay, even as his head cracks on the sidewalk.
—because it’s hid the ping of his remote detonator, the soft whine increasing in pitch as explosions begin to go off around him. For, you see- it’d been a set up the entire time, though they’d planned to blow it without him in the middle.
But as he watches, with blackness encroaching the edges of his vision- as the Wraith try to get away, only to be driven back by fireball after fireball-
— he really can’t think of a more fitting end for the two of them.
