The red shadow observed Samael Ambrazo Zakos' corpse with the slightest sense of satisfaction.
The bullet had entered right between his eyes, so the contents of his skull had been deposited all over the pillar behind him. It was a hasty coat of paint, but the bastard didn't deserve anything more elegant.
Crouching down, the shadow plucked the bullet from the bloody remnants of Zakos' seat of consciousness, depositing the metal object into a pocket. It wouldn't do to leave any unnecessary evidence. That was why Samael Ambrazo Zakos had had to die in the first place, apart from the obvious reasons.
They scanned the room one more time, making sure they'd left no trace of their presence save the corpse. The training they'd received made it a simple matter not to leave footprints, and the blows they'd dealt to the guards outside should keep them unconscious for an hour or two with minimum after-effects.
Their punchpoint pistol was equipped with a heavy-duty silencer, so there was little risk of anyone overhearing the execution.
Satisfied with what they saw, the shadow turned on their heel and ducked out of the tent. Things had gotten awful for a period back there, but they'd managed to make it out of the situation intact.
The second their foot made contact with the ground outside, the red shadow was bathed in light. It was as if the stars themselves were glaring at them.
The shadow brought up a hand to shield their eyes, and so they saw what was going on around them. Numerous people - humanoid silhouettes - were standing in a circle around them, pointing lights at them. The shadow recognised those lights as part of the equipment they'd been using to map out the ruins. In the hands of some members of the crowd were stun sticks too, electric polearms used to deter local wildlife while exploring ruins. They hadn’t dared go for them while the automatics were guarding them, but it seemed the crowd had gone for them now.
They tensed their body, heart thundering in their chest. Could they run for it, rejoin the crowd from another direction before their absence became obvious? How much did they know already? No, no, this was not good, this was awful.
They had no doubt they could dispatch this crowd - dispatch the present member of Skipper's crew, too, if it came to it - but the damage would be irreparable all the same. The life they'd built would have already collapsed like a house of cards.
What should they do? Their hand trembled.
This should not have been happening. This should have been easy, like mopping up the floor after a spill. Even so, they had to do something - or else this would be the end of everything they'd worked so hard for, both here and back home.
They tensed their body, getting ready to move, getting ready to do something, when the voice of Dragan Hadrien rang out.
"It's over, Helga."
Helga the shadow's eyes widened at the sound of her name, and she let out a soft sigh. So that was how it was.
Making sure to keep the entire crowd within her line of sight, she turned to the brightest source of light - that would be where Dragan was, judging from the Aether tic that made his eyes glow.
"How did you know?" she said, voice low.
Dragan stepped forward, the light from the other observers revealing his resolute expression. "There were a few things. The way you manage to sneak around without being noticed. The endurance you showed when we went into the ruins that first time. And what you told me in the medical tent, just before Zakos arrived."
Helga closed her eyes. "I see." She'd known that had been a mistake. She'd known the second the words had left her mouth, but she couldn't keep them bottled up inside her anymore.
Dragan continued on unprompted. Well, he seemed the type who liked to lay his reasoning out. "You mentioned how you needed medicine to maintain your body, but you never said how you got it. I looked it up, and the stuff's not cheap. The answer was obvious, once I thought about it. The Supremacy pays you to report on the Humilist fleet's activities."
Helga sighed. He pretty much had the whole thing down. It was strange - she should have been panicking beyond reason from having her secret exposed, but she didn't feel like that at all.
Instead there was a sense of … relief? Relief from her lies being exposed.
She spoke, the words seeming to flow out without end once she opened her mouth: "You're absolutely right. The Galactic Intelligence Division reached out and arranged to provide medicine to myself and my siblings, so long as I did as they said."
Dragan glared. "And you just accepted that? Becoming a traitor?"
"Yes." There was nothing else to be said. Well, perhaps one thing: "If I recall correctly, you're a traitor yourself. You deserted the Supremacy. What exactly separates me from you?"
His glare intensified. "I didn't get anyone killed. Remember Dian? You were fine with him being burnt to a crisp?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. "That wasn't supposed to happen."
There was no sympathy in Dragan's voice. "Well it did. You brought a Special Officer here, and he ran wild. Can I assume his corpse is in the tent behind you?"
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There was a shuffling in the crowd, a mumbling that ran through it like a wave. Eyes that had once looked to her for leadership stared at her with fear instead.
It was as if they could see the blood dripping from her hands.
She looked up, removed any trace of hesitation from her stance. "That's right. I killed him just now. I'm sure that's not a surprise to you, since you're all stood outside waiting for me."
Dragan glanced at the tent behind her, but he understandably didn't look too concerned. "Was it painless?"
"Single shot to the head. Instant death."
"Ah. Shame."
Helga glanced around, taking in the crowd, judging distances. Without a doubt, she could escape once it became necessary. Then she could take control of the rocket and pilot it to safe harbour.
But … if she did that, how would the Humilists get home? She supposed Skipper could probably give them a ride home on the Veritas, but -
No. She couldn't waste time thinking about that now. She had to think about herself and her family.
They'd spent years on the streets, desperately working any job in order to afford that medicine. Those damn green pills had been the only thing standing between them and an early grave, and they'd done whatever was necessary to get them, no matter how undignified. Even the thought of those days made her arms itch, memories of the way the skin would fall away rising to the surface.
"Thinking about escaping?" said Dragan, still staring right at her mask as if he could see her eyes through it.
Well, the thing didn't really have a purpose at this point anyway. She took the mask off with one hand and tossed it away into the dirt, savoring the feel of the cold night air on her face.
"If I was thinking about escaping," she said, adjusting the angle of her foot. "Could you do anything to stop me?"
That was right. Dragan was injured, and Bruno and Serena were definitely still unconscious. She knew for a fact that there weren't any other Aether users among the Humilists, as well.
She could very well break out of this situation without much trouble. If things went well, she could do it non-lethally, but at the very least she could do it without harming any of the Humilists.
Her eyes drifted back to Dragan's face. All she needed was the right moment.
"I've already had a signal sent out containing everything I've just told you," he said, now actually staring into Helga's eyes. "I'd bet the Humilist fleet has already received it - they know exactly who you are already. You're screwed whether you run or not."
Helga narrowed her eyes. Was he telling the truth? It seemed unlikely. He couldn't have been certain that she was the mole until just now, and he didn't seem careless enough to broadcast a potentially false accusation like that.
If he was telling the truth, then she had no choice but to run for Supremacy-controlled space and get in contact with the GID. If not, then there was a possibility that she could dispatch Dragan and just hash things out with everyone else.
No, that was just wishful thinking. If the GID found out about what had happened here, there was no way they'd let it stand.
They weren't nearly that kind, after all.
"I think," said Dragan hurriedly, noticing her shifting her stance. "That surrender might be the best option for you."
"You think wrong," said Helga, now returning Dragan's glare. "If I stop doing this, I'm dooming my siblings. They're on a GID station, relying on their handouts."
Olga, Nicolai … was there a way she could get them out of there before the GID found out about this? If Dragan had really sent out that signal, she'd need to head out right away in order to make it in time.
It felt like she was in a labyrinth, and new walls were presenting themselves all the time. There had to be a way out of this - an ideal path - but she simply couldn't see it.
She knew for a fact that path wasn't surrender, though.
Helga looked up at the sky. The moon really was beautiful tonight, shining down on them like a giant white star of its own. Even the ruins behind looked wonderful in this light.
She would have loved to explore them properly.
"Well," she said, still looking up at the sky. "It seems that I won't surrender, and you won't let me go. It's a tough situation we find ourselves in, isn't it?"
"Yeah," said Dragan. He had the same look in his eyes. "A tough situation."
"Mm."
The clearing emptied itself of noise, punctuated only by the hasty breathing of the crowd and the rhythmic clicking of some nearby insect.
Helga and Dragan stared at one another with gaze unbroken, daring each other to make the first move. Dragan's hand twitched against the makeshift plasma pistol strapped to his hip, while Helga's was still.
Dragan pulled out the pistol, pointing it at her and firing. The movement was painfully slow. To be honest, Helga expected more.
In the time Dragan was doing that, Helga was able to do three things.
First, she whipped the red cloak off her shoulders, throwing the spread-out sheet in front of her in order to block the crowd's vision. The cloak was for concealment only - the black bodysuit she wore beneath it provided all the protection she needed.
Second, she kicked her leg across the ground, sending a hail of dirt and stone flying upwards behind the discarded red cloak. They'd stay in that position for only a fraction of a second, but at the speed Helga moved, that wouldn't be a problem.
The crowd - Helga's people - started to shout in panic and fear. With a pained expression, she blocked it out.
Third, she unleashed a series of rapid jabs upon the hail of stone, sending each fragment flying through the red cloak, leaving tiny holes in its surface. A moment later, a series of shattering sounds rang out, and the bright lights that had been illuminating the square were snuffed out.
She'd judged the angles correctly, then, and managed to destroy the lighting equipment using those projectiles.
Oh, and for good measure, she ducked out of the way of the plasma shot. It struck the tent behind her, and the structure burst into flame.
With visibility reduced, she'd be able to approach and dispatch Dragan without him getting an accurate shot off, but she'd have to be quick about it. Otherwise, the fire from the tent behind her would just provide new visibility.
No time to waste, then.
She kicked off the ground with a burst of dark-red Aether, keeping her body low to the ground as she approached. Dragan let loose another hail of plasmafire, but she easily weaved around them. This kind of situation was something she'd been trained for.
In a second, she was upon Dragan, almost face to face. She slapped his pistol away with one hand, and it went flying off into the crowd.
She thrust the other hand forward fingers first, aiming directly for Dragan's forehead. It was unfortunate, but she had no choice but to drill right through his skull and destroy his brain. Otherwise, she had no guarantee he wouldn't come after her.
Sorry, she thought, and went in for the kill.