Two Birds, One Stone
Twoshot
It was laying there, an instrument of death and wrath that had plagued his world for two years and his previous world for centuries. The pistol he had used to inflict terror and pain on both the sentient and insentient was now turned in a collision course against him.
Various voices were heard outside, some keeping a stealthy profile while others went above and beyond and erupted in huge vocal distress calls. It was the same with the sounds of the door, rubbing made one end of the spectrum whilst strong pounds like huge African drums made the other end.
"Gwin! Let us in man!" a deep and tense voice called out, "Whatever you're doing in there is not Harrier style!"
"Gwin, come on!" another voice, this one soft and childish, added, "Please, it doesn't have to be this way!"
The man by the desk muttered as he looked at his pistol, then stared at the lone lamp that provided all the illumination his room currently had.
"It's useless." Gwin muttered as he stared at a picture frame by the pistol, which had him and another young man next to him, "We came here just to lie to ourselves we kept it all."
Muffled voices outside question what was just spoken inside.
"Had I realized sooner that moving to Mira was just an illusion to keep us content." Gwin grabbed the weapon and loaded a magazine into it, "I would have joined you sooner, man."
The Interceptor grabbed the pistol with his right hand and the picture frame in his other hand, then looked coldly at the picture.
"I did all I could to get you onboard, man..." Gwin wept, "But all I tried was useless! It was all for nothing! Now look at me... if I can't help myself... how could I even help you?"
The pistol was cocked, the voices were crying out, the door was sounding like booming drums. The hour of destiny had come, but even in this darkest time, even when the barrel was ready to fire and the bullet ready to do its deed, a light shone into his room.
A foreign ray of brightness appeared into the darkness of despair and isolation, a light that could only have been caused by one person. The one person Gwin trusted enough to give his own life and security to that was still alive.
"Gwin, stop!" a strong and feminine voice called out as the sound of a closing door followed after.
Gwin sighed, set down the gun and the frame, and turned his chair to face the owner of the voice, "Irina... what are you doing?" he muttered and looked up to her.
"I'm trying to stop you." the woman said as he looked at the broken man.