Reynard heard a chainsaw start up nearby, and let out an irritated, gravelly sigh. He'd just bent over to pick up one of the dozen gasoline cans in the shabby little building, but now he paused to consider how to deal with this.

He came to a conclusion quickly after scanning the room. He grabbed two cans, brought them over to a ground-level window – he was in the building's basement – and shoved them outside. Then he took two more and did the same. That would be enough for his purposes. The rest could burn.

As the chainsaw began eating into the door upstairs, he calmly popped the lid on another can and started pouring it all over the floor, careful to not let any get on him or his robes, which would go up like newspaper if they caught fire. He moved a few more cans near the bottom of the stairs, dumped a bit more gas on the steps, and just as the door came down, he laid a trail over to the window, crawled up, and forced himself through. It was barely big enough for him. Good thing he'd been losing weight recently.

His radio came on. "Reynard. Sheva here. I think I found your sniper rifle."

He smacked the transmitter. "What? Where?"

"Irving picked it up. Hope you don't mind if I use it to take down a few gunners?"

He could fear machine gun fire in the background. Good thing she'd found his rifle, and even better she'd taken it back from a miserable terrorist. "Guns like that were meant to be used. Bag me a trophy, will you?"

"Will do," she replied. The chainsaw-wielding Majini kicked down the basement door and started down, and the sound had flooded the air while he'd been replying. "Are you alright?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

"Yes, fine,"he replied shortly, pulling out a lighter from his pocket. He wasn't worried about his position. Sheva sounded like she was in a worse way than he was right then. Damn woman ought to worry about herself. As the Majini came down the stairs and spotted him, he lit a small piece of spare paper on fire and dropped it. Fire promptly shot across the floor. He rolled away and began loading himself up with the gas cans as the explosion in the basement went off. Muffled screaming started up in the aftermath.

"Say, how's that jeep coming along?"

"Got it fixed, but the fuel tank was nearly empty," he grunted as he picked up the last cans. "I siphoned off fuel from the other one, but not much. I just picked up some more gas from a place in town. Have a few ornery shoppers to deal with, though. Reynard out."

Indeed, at the sound of the explosion, about a dozen Majini had rounded the corner up ahead, shouted some curses and threats at him, and began sprinting over. He one gas can down – he'd only need two, the other two were a luxury – and ran away. Then, as the bulk of the mob passed by it, he shot it, sending most of them reeling. Idiot things.

Now that he was well armed and on his toes, he wasn't having much difficulty making his way through the area. He just needed to make it back to the warehouse, fuel up, and he'd be on his way. Off to that research facility.

He wasn't a man given to fear. When he was faced with death, he didn't get scared. He got angry. Such was the case now, and he regarded his attackers only with disdain as he gunned them down and ran, the heavy tanks of flammable fluid sloshing around on his back. He ended up using one more to take down another large mob.

He wasn't scared at the prospect of infiltrating that facility. Wasn't even nervous. He was pleased with the prospect of killing a few weasel-brained lab junkies, raking the data in from their computers, and perhaps even saving a handful of innocent civilians. The girl on the radio earlier had sounded very afraid. He wasn't a terribly sympathetic man by nature, more of a survival-of-the-fittest type, but he would help her if he could. Some people, it pained him to see dragged into such conflicts. Whoever she was, she more than likely did not belong here.

Send her useless little civilian ass home, he grumbled silently to himself. The battlefield is no place for a woman.

Well, he had learned over the years that this was not necessarily true. That Sheva woman was a considerable find. And there were others. Nevertheless, wars were ugly when women fought. He'd read that in a book somewhere in his youth, though he could not recall the title. Something charming and fanciful, which he'd been forced to read for school, had not expected to enjoy, and rather surprisingly had enjoyed.

Another Majini lunged out of an alleyway to his left, and he put a few bullets in its head. Ugly fucking things. He enjoyed the carnality of battle to some degree, but he'd be happy enough to be out of his hellhole soon.

With luck, he'd be taking a few decent people with him.

The jeep had two machine guns mounted on the back, but with no enemies in sight Sheva and Chris slipped up to the front to enjoy some water and air conditioning.

"I heard about Irving," their driver, Ritter, said. "Tough break."

Ritter was one of the members of Delta Team she was good friends with. He'd been the one who had told her she could nuke an egg to hard-boil it…and had subsequently given her that nice egg-maker. "Yes," she said. "But there will be other opportunities." She hit her transmitter. "Sheva to headquarters."

"This is HQ. What's your situation?"

"There's a high probability that Irving is on his way to an oil field in the marshlands. We're rejoining Delta Team and heading there now."

"Understood."

At this moment, Sheva looked around, through the windows. A steady drone had begun to fill her ears, and looking around revealed long, trailing clouds of dust to either side of them, off in the distance. The clouds were gaining on them rapidly, and Ritter said, "Ah, we've got company."

Motorcycle Majini. Whole packs of them. Again. "They don't let up, do they?" Sheva asked conversationally as she and Chris crawled out to man the machine guns.

The guns were, thankfully, very well stocked. Ammo wouldn't be an issue at all. But as the first group came in range and Chris started firing, Ritter called back, "Do what you gotta do to stop them! But don't get too trigger-happy or the guns'll overheat! If that happens, we'll be sitting ducks until they cool down!"

She let Chris handle the bulk of the crowd, and covered for them when any slipped under his aim. She also kept an eye on the rest of the savannah. That's where they were just then – the savannah. Dry, dusty expanses of shrubs, a few low, yellow grasses, and sparse, pale acacias. They gunned down the first group and Ritter yelled, "We've got some sharp curves up ahead! Hold on tight!"

They did. She hunkered down and gripped the railing on the side of the vehicle, straining as centrifugal force threatened to tear her away and send her flying off the side. She kept her grip, as did Chris, and they soon straightened out.

The radio came on. "This is Captain Stone, Delta Team. I just received word from HQ. Based on the data you uploaded from that hard drive, most of the townspeople have been infected by the parasites known as Las Plagas. The data refers to the infected as Majini."

Funny. Looked like the name had stuck. She wondered if the townspeople Reynard had overheard had picked the word up from the terrorists, or vice versa.

A tall bus was now converging on them as well, loaded up with Majini on top. More cyclists were coming from the opposite side. Chris took the bikers while she took the bus, and she really had to lay into where she thought the fuel tank was to get it down. Once it was nicely on fire, she raised the gun to the top and blasted the tottering Majini off to scatter on the rock below.

"What does all this have to do with Uroboros?" Chris asked, breaking the gunfire to voice his question. Then he blew the last few pursuers away, the bus crashed and burned on her side, and they had a brief moment to breathe.

"You got me. The file didn't say. They seem to be keeping that secret very close to the chest."

"Looks like the only way we're getting answers is from Irving," he said. More bikers were on their way.

They didn't get a chance to gun them down from afar as Ritter once again called sharp turns back. By the time they'd straightened out, the Majini were close, and she and Chris both started firing heavily.

She wasn't a fan of bloodshed, but she had to admit, this particular segment of the fight was almost fun. Okay, tell the truth and shame the devil – it was very fun. The wind whipping past her, the warmth of the late evening sun, the thrill of their speed, and the rush of unleashing such power on the gang of monsters pursuing them…could she be faulted for enjoying herself?

She decided to ask. "Is it wrong that I'm enjoying this?" she yelled back to Chris.

"If it is, I'm wrong, too. We can talk it over with the shrinks later."

She laughed and gunned down another few Majini. Then she let up on the trigger – the gun was getting toasty.

The next truck had crossbowmen on it. They didn't wait to get in range before they started firing wildly, but they all missed. Chris took them down. One small group managed to sneak up on their right, coming out of a long stretch of bushes, and Sheva got all but one of them. The last, in a mad suicide rush, rammed right into the side of the jeep. This wasn't a normal car, though – it was designed to deal with impacts. The vehicle barely wobbled, and Ritter called back, "What was that?"

"Kamikaze motorcycle Majini," Chris replied.

"Ha! That won't even scratch the paint!"

The scenery was stunning. The light was now shining on the far, low hills, turning their dull orange soil crimson in the glare. The sky, a bit smoky and a bit cloudy, was not red, but varying shades of gold, with faint tones of white and blue far off in the distance where the light was fading. The shadows turned the normally dreary landscape to a complex canvas of life and lifelessness.

Can you imagine a more glorious setting for a battle, my fierce desert hawk?

She gritted her teeth and cast the voice away…but reluctantly, she had to agree. Valhalla itself might have been shining down through that golden sky.

Then her mind was dragged back down to cruel reality as Josh's voice came on over the radio, loud and strained. "We're under attack! There are too many of them to handle!"

HQ came in. "Reinforcements are en route. Hold your position until they arrive. Repeat, hold your position!"

"Let's pick up the pace!" Chris barked. The roar of the vehicle's motor picked up, and their speed increased at least ten miles an hour, slowing down only for curves.

A large truck loaded up with Majini came roaring up to them from the side. She loaded it up with lead, but it got to them anyways, bashing into their side and trying to run them off the road. She took to shooting the Majini, who were trying to throw axes and things at her. The driver's sides of their cars were level, and she heard Ritter fire several rounds.

"That's gonna affect the resale value," he griped as the truck drifted off.

The sun was going down. They noticed Ritter slowing, and Sheva turned and saw a truck barricading the road. The landscape around was too rough for them to ride around. "There's no getting past that unless you two do something about it!" Ritter yelled.

Sheva spotted fuel cans on the truck, which was surrounded by Majini. She turned the gun full around while Chris covered their rear, and she fired at these. They blew the barricade sky high, and Ritter was able to force his way through.

"Nice!"

They passed over a bridge. Another truck came at them. She got this one down, though they caught the explosion, and it knocked her askew. Just as well. She needed to let up on the trigger. It was hot again.

"They're going to try and drive us into the river! Don't let them get close!"

Yet more Majini were coming up, most of the enemies on her right, now, as a river had appeared to the left. Chris was handling all the ones coming up from the rear, so she had to deal with the side. The gun was still hot, but there was not enough time to let it cool. She started up again.

The light was fading from the sky. The golden clouds were turning grey and sullen, and shadows were travelling visibly across the terrain, draining the life from it. She got a few more Majini, then had to let up, lest the gun overheat. She pulled out her handgun and started firing, catching Majini in the head when they got close.

"Stone here! We are sustaining heavy casualties, we need to fall back!"

"Maintain your position!"

"The town is just up ahead!"

She glanced back and saw how close they were. They must have traveled a good five winding miles, four as the crow flies perhaps, and were now entering the town limits.

"We're almost there," she radioed. No response.

"The bridge is out!" Chris yelled. "Shit!"

Her heart fell once again. No – damnit! They could not tolerate such a delay. Josh needed their help now!

But instead of slowing down, the jeep sped up. "I see that," Ritter said calmly. "Leave it to me."

"Uh, oh," Chris said. "Uh, Sheva…hold on."

She did. She hunkered down, gritted her teeth…and a moment later, she felt them go airborne.

The Majini squealed to a halt before her as the bridge disappeared beneath. One was too late, and went screaming over the side into the river. The jeep sailed smoothly through the air…

Then crashed back down on solid ground. Ritter had made it.

The light vanished shockingly fast in areas like this. It was already largely dark, though the sun had dropped fully only minutes before. Perhaps it was the smoke rising in the west. But then, it wasn't thick enough to obscure the large, nearly-full yellow moon. Just the season and landscape, she supposed.

They rolled into town. She expected gunfire, and was very unnerved to hear none. As they slowed down, headlights now on and flooding over the dark streets, she caught a glimpse of two bodies in an alley nearby. She quickly shone her light over there. They didn't look like locals.

As they went, they passed two more. Then a group of three. No denying it. These were the remains of Delta Team, and they were scattered about like discarded rubbish.

Sickness was welling up in her at the sight, though she was working to quash this. She couldn't afford to mourn.

Ritter's head was drifting back and forth, she could see, and she could only imagine what was going through his head as he beheld the carnage that had befallen his friends. The bodies looked crushed and distorted, as though by a great force.

"What could have done this?" she asked. There were no notable tire tracks nearby. It didn't look like they'd been mown down by vehicles. Yet the force with which they'd been hit…

Ritter was silent. She caught a glimpse of his face as he turned to take in a particularly brutalized pile of bodies. His expression…she hoped it would not imprint itself on her memory, but she suspected it would. These were the men he'd been working alongside since before she'd even come to America. And it looked like every one of them was dead.

Josh, she thought.

Isolate the pain. You cannot afford to let it paralyze you, one part of her said. The warrior, the desert hawk.

This is your fault, another voice said. A cold, quiet, cynical voice. You didn't get here soon enough. You failed them. You—

They pulled up to a halt, and before the thought could conclude, she was jumping out of the jeep, gun drawn. They needed to move, see if there were any survivors. Ritter ran forward, dropping to his knees beside the nearest Delta Team member and checking his pulse. She could see by way his shoulders tensed that he found nothing.

Suddenly, the ground shook. The noise was so loud she couldn't tell where it was coming from. She and Chris were both looking around, wide eyed, and then—

"Look out!" he shouted. She looked, and saw their jeep flying clean over their heads and coming to rest on its side behind them.

Ritter screamed. They turned just in time to see a massive, dark shape stepping out of the shadow of a large building. It must have been twenty feet tall, bulky, powerful…and it brought its foot right down on Ritter.

Grief, vicious and intense, cut through her. She flung it ruthlessly away, and without allowing herself a second's hesitation, darted behind a nearby vehicle with Chris, hoping the monstrosity hadn't spotted them.

The thing roared, its deep bellow assaulting her eardrums, and she thought she saw it turn towards them just as they slipped behind the jeep. Then she heard it sniffing.

Another car, a short ways away, went flying. They couldn't stay here. Before they could move, however, the jeep was lifted and tossed away, and the giant was peering down at them.

It was a giant, too, straight out of an old, grim fairy tail. Its skin was grey-brown, its skin taut, cracked, and in some places stitched like the Executioners'. Its form was distorted, back hunched, and its muscles bulged horribly. It had no neck. Its head just melded disgustingly with its torso in a thick ripple of flesh.

It growled like a lion. Chris swore, and they both began shooting. This was what had killed Delta Team.

It raised both fists into the air. Both of them reacted the same way, running forward under its legs rather than back or to the side. Its fists rocked the ground as they hit, but the move threw it for a loop. It stood up, looking at its knuckles as though expecting to see them coating it. No luck.

Then it turned, saw them, and they took off sprinting for the jeep they'd come in on. The one that was still upright, with guns and plenty of ammunition.

"Get to the truck!" Chris yelled. He didn't need to tell her twice…but then she had to force herself to keep running as she heard him start firing behind her. The thing was rushing after them, but Chris was staying behind to cover her.

She heard another blow thrown, and a real bolt of fear pierced her as she heard Chris grunt in pain. If she lost him, she wouldn't survive this.

I don't think I can survive this even with him, she thought desperately. Alpha…Delta…Josh. We've lost too much. Too much, and for so little. We can't do this…

But giving up was not an option. Not yet. So she leapt onto the truck, wheeled the gun around, and screamed as she fired it into the giant's face.

It hadn't killed Chris. It had only clipped him, and had been bending over to grab him and finish the job. Her gunfire distracted it, allowing him time to regain his feet and get to the jeep. He hopped up as well, and now they were both armed.

"Take this, you ugly bastard," she hollered as she started unloading once again. The pain and fury inside her were torrential and uncontainable, and it was at least a minute relief to be able to vent it some way. Nothing short of this monster's death would quell the feeling, though.

Together, they started hailing bullets on the beast. It stepped into the light as it came for them, and what she saw made her vision go red. Men from Delta Team, four of them, were strung from their ankles around its waist. Their corpses flopped and dangled like obscene trophies.

Her fury thickened into something very like hatred. She felt sick. Deeply, viscerally sick. She screamed again as she continued to unload lead into its face, intent only on causing as much pain and damage as possible.

Chris reacted differently. He began firing, not at its thick skull, but at the long, wide, dark scars on its shoulders, the ones she barely noticed. The giant grunted, jerked its head away like someone being pestered by a fly – a bee at the very most – and stalked up to them, raising a foot to do to her what it had done to Ritter.

No go. Chris swapped his aim and shot its foot, and it yelped and stumbled back. Then he resumed fire on the scar.

Something burst out of it. It must have been a Plaga. It seemed to her that there had been something like this in the Kennedy Report, but she was blanking just then. Her mind was too full, her thoughts too burdened. She couldn't think back on her studies.

The gun isn't the only thing that can overheat. Cool you head before you get killed!

"Aim at that thing!" Chris hollered, and switched his gunfire to the devil on its shoulder. She did so as well for a moment, then saw Majini in the background. They were making their way over, and if they got too close, they could be very dangerous. She swapped to them, taking them out, trying to think strategically through the fury.

Trophies. It's wearing those men as trophies.

Maybe this was a bad idea. The thrashing parasite only stayed out for a few moments, then retracted back into the shoulder. She should have focused on it while it was out, and dealt with the Majini afterwards.

Focus, or Chris will be the next one on that belt!

This steadied her a bit. The giant ducked and roared, coming at them again. With the Majini down, she turned her attention to the other shoulder, the other scar, and started firing. Once more, it wound up to hit, but Chris switched his fire strategically and made it stagger back. It didn't like getting too close. Maybe it wasn't used to its prey hitting back.

The other shoulder burst, and a long, leggy parasite came out of it. She switched to this right away, ignoring the new Majini in the background, and together they did some serious damage. The giant stumbled back, hunched over, and picked up a very large boulder that had been sitting in the middle of the square.

It raised the stone over its head. Majini were rushing them, but the rock took precedence. They both fired at its wrists, and before it could hurtle the projectile, they got it. Its wrists caved, the boulder dropped, and going by the sound the giant made, it was probably going to have a splitting headache for the next few days…or few minutes. However long it took them to kill this sick thing.

She air temperature had dropped considerably, which lent itself to cooling the gun, but it was still getting hot. She took the time in which the giant was stunned to pull out her rifle and start shooting the Majini. She needed kill-shots, not dissuasion. Every rifle round was a dead enemy.

The giant was regaining its wits and coming for them again, and finally the rage dissipated under a cold splash of fear. She wondered whether or not they were going to be able to kill this thing. It was absurdly massive. Unless they were doing more damage than it looked by shooting those parasites – she hopped back on the gun and started firing at its shoulder – they weren't going to be able to kill it before they ran out of ammo.

The nightfall always brings doubt and fear with it. This is an illusion. You mustn't let your morale be ruled by circadian rhythms.

That had been one of Josh's adages, and it was one that she valued greatly. She focused on it now, and slowly, the fear began to slip away. We can do this.

Chris swapped his aim, and as the giant stepped past a large pile of rubble and refuse, a hail of gunfire hit it and something inside exploded. The giant's leg buckled, and it toppled onto its side, parasite popping out. They took to firing at this again, both at once, and they managed to sever it near the base.

The giant screamed as its growth flumped and fell to the ground. It had struggled nearly to its feet, but now it dropped back down to its knees, clutching its head, bending over, and its back began to ripple in the uncertain lighting.

After a moment, it went still, and another Plaga burst out. This one was triple the size of the others, throbbing and asymmetrical. Its host was kneeling and moaning, and knowing that this was their best chance to kill the thing, she unloaded everything on the back-Plaga.

Chris had been keeping up his gunfire too much. He paused to let the gun cool. She heard him yell, "Flash grenade!" and saw a small object fly over her head towards the giant's back. She ducked down and covered her face, wondering what he was doing. A flash grenade, on a Plaga?Why?

Then she remembered – photosensitive. Maybe the burst of light would damage it.

The flash went off, and once it was clear, she opened her eyes to see the Plaga, smoking, stunned, and shuddering, sucking itself slowly back into the spine of its host. Large strips of what had previously been tight, rippling veins and stiff, powerful legs were sloughing off of it and falling to the ground. She wasn't sure, but it looked to her like that had actually done more damage that an explosive. The entire Plaga looked to have been fried.

"Very nice," she called back, then resumed the assault. She took a moment to clear out more Majini in the back, but suddenly and without warning, the giant surged forward.

Its arm lashed out, and she was barely able to duck in time. Its palm swatted the air above her head, as well as clipped her gun, sending it spinning around. She righted it and started firing, and with Chris, she was able to drive it back.

It went on like this for another ten minutes at least. They'd fire as much as possible at the Plagas, go ape on them when they were exposed, and occasionally dodge attacks or force it to drop projectiles. The thing was very dumb. It just kept doing the same things over and over, letting its weak points get exposed, allowing them to drive it back and damage it more and more. Many smaller Plagas shot out around its body, and they took to destroying these, all the while hoping to bring out the large one on its back again. That, she was sure, was the key to their victory.

Chris putting out its eyes really helped. It nearly lost it at that point, staggering back and forth and accidentally crushing Majini beneath its great, clumsy feet. It staggered into another pile of scrap, and she fired at this one, though she saw no barrel in it. Nonetheless, something flammable must have been hidden amongst the junk, because it exploded as well, sending the giant to its knees and coaxing out the great Plaga on its back once more.

She and Chris had both let their guns rest in the last minute. When it came back out, they were both able to unload on it without restraint, pouring everything they could into it. It jerked and twitched, ichor flew from it in gallons, and it seemed like, after Chris's flashbang attack, it was even more vulnerable than the smaller ones around its body. Within fifteen seconds, they took it apart.

It didn't just go limp and die, nor did they manage to sever it. Once it had taken enough damage, it began pulsing, rippling, shuddering – and then it exploded.

The giant grunted quietly, fell to its knees once more, then pitched forward. Its arm reached out meekly, fingers grasping at the dirt, then it went still.

It seemed the fight was over.

Chris blew away the last few Majini, but it was somewhat unnecessary. With the death of the great Plaga, they wailed in dismay and turned to retreat. Perhaps these things did have some semblance of self-preservation after all.

Sheva didn't much care. Before the gunfire could even cease, she'd jumped off the jeep and gone over cautiously to the giant. Once satisfied that it was dead, she pulled out her knife, and began sawing at its belt, freeing the corpses of her fallen brethren.

Two were trapped firmly under the giant. It pained her that she would not be able to help them, but there was nothing she could do. So she cut through the other bonds, dragged the fallen men a short ways away from the beast, took their dog tags for identification and, once finished, stood panting.

Chris came over to her, but her head was still spinning. She needed another moment before pushing on. She started walking. She saw another, and went over to check his tag, too. Jacob Norwick, this one said.

She walked over to another one, dark skinned, and checked. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't just collecting tags anymore – she was looking for something.

She slipped the tag into her pocket – Erwin Banks – stood up, and said, "Where are you, Josh?"

Chris walked up to Sheva, stepping past the score of disfigured bodies lying in the streets. He'd been in this situation before. It sucked to admit it, but when you were in the game as long as he'd been, you got used to this sort of thing. It hurt, sure, but after a while, it stopped being crippling.

But while he was sure Sheva had lost people before – he hadn't many members of the B.S.A.A. who hadn't lost someone to a bioterror attack or pharmaceutical screw-up – he suspected this particular situation was novel to her. The pain in her face made that pretty clear. The entire squad wiped out in minutes, when it had been up to them to provide reinforcements? They'd gotten there too late. That was why these people were dead.

He wasn't about to say, 'we got here as soon as we could,' or, 'we couldn't have saved them all, anyways,' even if it was true. That was not what she needed to hear right then. Though he didn't like to admit it, he was afraid she'd reached her limit. She could only take so much…and though he still had a job to finish, he couldn't in all conscience drag her any farther, knowing how slim the odds of survival were.

"Sheva," he said, voice quiet but firm. "You don't have to do this; you can still back out."

It was true. If she stayed here, she'd be able to radio for extraction, hide in the town until it got here, and make it home. That wasn't an option for him, not given what was at stake; but it was for her.

She'd been staring blankly off into the distance, detached, lost in thought. But at his words, she came back to herself, looking at him perplexedly. "What about you?"

He clenched his jaw. "I've got a personal stake in this."

"A 'personal stake'?" she asked, expression turning a bit disbelieving. "Chris…look around! We should both get the hell out of here!"

"I'm not here just for the mission."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, clearly agitated.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd been trying to avoid thinking about this, but it was no use now. If he didn't explain his reasoning, she wouldn't accept his decision.

"A while back," he began, thinking back on the first cryptic email he'd received – the anonymous one that had hinted at Jill's survival. "I received some intel that my old partner was still alive. At first, I didn't know what to think. But when I saw the data file from Delta Team, I knew for sure. Jill survived the fall, the one we assumed killed her."

Sheva's eyes slipped off of him, dropping and darting left and right, dredging up a memory. Then she said, "…that woman in the data file? Are you ever sure it's the same person?"

Her voice was rising. She was no longer even remotely stunned or detached. She'd realized by now that he had no intention of retreating, and she was upset. He supposed he couldn't blame her. More than likely, he was going to get himself killed.

But that didn't change a damn thing. If Jill was out there, he needed to find her.

"We were partners," he said, jaw setting as he turned away. "I'm sure."

He started walking. There wasn't any further point in discussing. He needed to keep moving – try to find Irving, try to stop whatever Uroboros was, and somewhere in the mix, he needed to find Jill. If he had to do that alone, so be it. He'd been working alone for years now. He was used to looking after himself, and only himself.

He was used to not having a partner.

"Wait!"

He paused, nearly looked back, then shook his head. He couldn't.

"Wait," she said again, and he heard her following him. "You're not going alone. Chris, wait!"

He kept going, picking through the ruined town to get to the edge of the swamp. A member of Delta Team had mentioned that they'd dropped a few airboats off on the edge of the swamp, and he was willing to bet one of them was nearby.

"I don't have much time," he said. "I have to find her." He was afraid of what would happen to her if they saw him coming, and he thought odds were pretty long that he hadn't already been spotted and identified. Even if there hadn't been a single camera that had picked up on him, Irving will definitely have been briefed on him, or would identify him soon. And once that happened, who knew what they would do to Jill? They'd surely know that he was coming for her, after all.

"I'm going with you."

He stopped.

He turned back. She walked up to him. He could still see the pain in her face, hear the distress in her voice, but the intense agitation was gone. In its place, resolve. "These are my people that are dying here," she insisted.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. He didn't want to dissuade her, but he needed to be sure of her commitment. She sounded serious, but he could not afford to have a partner who would break down halfway through the mission. "A second ago, you were ready to cut and run."

She paused…then nodded. "I can't just turn my back and walk away."

He wasn't sure she fully understood what pressing on would entail. He was in it for personal reasons now, they had no more backup, and they were going to be heading deep into enemy territory. That wasn't the kind of environment where HQ was going to be able to chime in. In fact, once they dealt with Irving, he was going to have to cut them off from HQ altogether, lest they order a retreat. "There are no more orders from here on out. It's just us."

Chris noticed soft light flooding across the clearing. The smoke clouds were drifting away, allowing the moonlight to take precedence once more. It was very bright.

"We're partners," she said, and finally, he sensed that her calm – relative calm, he corrected; a strong undercurrent of passion stood out in her even when she was largely relaxed – had finally reimposed itself. She was centered once more. "To the end."

Partners.

He closed his eyes. Once again, Jill's face drifted across his memory. That night at the Spencer Estate.

The fall.

The funeral.

And now…the data file.

"Now let's get moving," Sheva finished, pushing past him.

He opened his eyes, letting go of the images. What lay in the past was less important that what lay ahead, and what lay ahead was only as vital as what was in his immediate purview. "Copy that," he said. It was time to move along.

OoO

Oooh, Merry Christmas to me! I woke up with three new reviews :) You're the best, Rel :D

It's present-opening time over here. I don't smoke, so I figured while the rest of the family was taking a smoke break, I'd dash in and upload my Christmas chapter! Nothing better than a Christmas morning, stuffed full of bagels and lox, sipping tea, and waiting to see if the crazy uncle will guess what his presents are before he opens them...which he almost always does with unerring ease. Last year mom gave him a box of rocks, just to mess with him. In case you're wondering, he still figured it out.

Lots of love to all of my readers, and I'll see you tomorrow. Merry Christmas!

Love,

The Topaz Dragon