Chris brushed in, gun up and aimed at the tall, black-clad man leaning against the rails. "It's finished, Wesker, your plans are through!"

Sheva, too, stood beside him, muzzle glaring. Alyssa hid behind them in the hall that separated the engine room from this one. The door slid shut, sealing her away from Wesker's view, thankfully before the man turned around and saw her.

"There's no way out this time!" Sheva exclaimed. She was ready for the fight to come, though she had to admit, her heart was beating harder than her current exertion levels merited.

Her statement was true, at least for the moment. The room was a giant, empty box. There was only one other door, and from the looks of it, it was sealed. The door behind them seemed to be Wesker's only escape route, and there was no way the man was retreating, not now.

Though, the bomber was on a platform beneath them, and it looked like the platform was designed to rise. This arena was a dead-end, more or less, but the arena could change. With luck, they wouldn't let that happen.

Sheva saw Wesker's hands tighten briefly on the railing before letting go and raising them to adjust his sunglasses. "Don't you two ever tire of failing in your mission? You've really become quite an inconvenience for me."

She registered the tightness in his voice. Then he was turning, something dark was flying at Chris, and he raised his wrist to block. But the projectile turned out to be nothing more than Wesker's sunglasses, and—

Chris grunted as Wesker, almost faster than the eye could see, dashed up in the wake of his glasses and knocked Chris's gun aside. Sheva shifted the muzzle to fire, but before she could, his hand had traveled in a full crescent and knocked her own wrist aside. She expected a blow and tucked her chin in, clenching her jaw, but before her eyes could even narrow he had whirled away from her, maintaining his momentum, and brought his left elbow crashing into Chris's solar plexus.

The next thing she knew, Chris was flying away, and she was being led by the wrist into a flip that left her gasping for breath on her back, Wesker looking down at her with eyes that glowed red. Then his sunglasses appeared between his fingers, and he raised them calmly to his face again, hiding the crimson glow.

Well, mostly. She just barely saw his thin black pupils dart down to her, and he raised a heel to end it.

Crack! Crack!

Wesker dodged the bullets Chris sent his way, blurring out of sight to the left and right. Sheva rolled as he barreled in in the wake of his bullets, bent low, and hit Wesker in a tackle designed to drive him over the edge.

Any human being would have gone flying back, hit the rails, and wheeled over them. Wesker, however, was not human. He took a small step back, and skidded another step before stopping. He cricked his neck. A small, mean smile flitted across his features as if to say, You want close quarters combat? Well, if you insist.

Sheva struggled to her knees, wanting to help but unable to as Wesker's last blow had knocked the wind from her. She knelt there, trying to breathe, and flinched at what ensued. Wesker, towering over Chris, let him have it. Knee to the gut. Elbow to the back. Then the man, or whatever he was at this point, turned, and threw Chris bodily into the rails.

Chris had grunted painfully with each hit, and now leaned against the low metal bars, barely able to keep his feet as he tried to dismiss the pain that was no doubt scrambling his senses. Those blows had looked agonizing. Yet before Wesker could follow up, he was shooting again, driving Wesker to flip and turn and dodge back, away from the muzzle, towards—

"Augh!" she cried out as he shot for her. His hand clamped down on her wrist like a vice, dragging her up off the ground and whirling her around until her back was to him. She raised a hand to try and pry his off her, but his other came up and trapped her completely. She could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves, and was close enough to feel his heartbeat.

It's hardly even elevated, she though disbelievingly as she thrashed back and forth, trying to escape. He may have just jogged to the mailbox and back!

Chris approached, gun up, but could not fire while Wesker was using her as a meatshield.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded. "What do you accomplish by unleashing Uroboros?"

She kept struggling, trying to writhe her way out of their enemy's grip, and she shuddered as she felt the breath of his answer puff softly against her cheek. "Every day, humans come one step closer to self-destruction. I'm not destroying the world. I'm saving it."

She'd been shifting the weight of her struggles gradually to the left, and now she threw all her weight and strength to the right to buck him. It worked just enough to allow her to get her head a good foot away from his, and Chris took that opportunity in a heartbeat, firing at Wesker. He was forced to drop her to dodge.

The next few seconds happened in what would have been slow motion to her had Wesker moved like a normal man. As it was, Chris seemed to be moving like molasses in her eyes, the world around her nearly frozen – but Wesker was rushing through it all with the grace and speed of a hummingbird. A fist thrown drew a smattering of blood from Chris's lip, and she fired a round that flew a foot clear of the target that had been in her sights when her finger had begun to twitch. Chris rolled with the blow, allowing his body to turn and using the momentum for a high reverse kick. Wesker blocked this, dodged her next bullet, and his wrist suddenly cracked down like a whip against her hand.

They threw blows and fired shots with finesse and precision, but Wesker spun them about like children, reprimanding them with every attempt on his life. And then she was whirling, wrist trapped again, and being tossed back towards the rails. Chris was right beside her.

When she hit them and went falling backwards over, she thought, Oh, God, that metal case is going to break my ribs when I land on it. Then she landed flat on her back on the floor below, and though the pain was great, it wasn't nearly so bad as she'd thought it would be.

Because the case was gone.

Alyssa heard the sounds of combat going on outside the door get drowned out by a blaring of sirens. They'd told her not to retreat, because there could still be Reapers and Majini in the rooms behind, but also not to come through the door under any circumstances. But she'd heard the fight move suddenly away from the door, to a lower level, she thought, and she heard no one immediately outside anymore.

She'd also heard Chris and Sheva getting the ever-loving daylights beaten out of them. She'd hoped she was just misinterpreting it, but there those grunts of pain left no chance of mistaken identity. It was them, and she'd heard nothing but monologuing from the bad guy. He hadn't sounded pained. He'd just sounded irritated, like he was annoyed, having to explain something as obvious as whatever it was he was talking about.

She waited a moment more, then opened the door. Sure enough, there was no one out on the balcony. She crept out, eyes darting around anxiously for the man Chris and Sheva had been fighting. The sirens continued to blare, lights started flashing red, and then a low alert that could barely be heard over the sounds of the fighting below said, Hangar rise sequence initiated. All doorways locking down.

It took her several seconds to process this. By the time she did and ran back to get back through the door, it was locked, which made her feel very cold. A huge mechanical roar filled the room, and suddenly, the entire room seemed to start rising like a giant, shuddering elevator.

The balcony she was on was thankfully going with it, so she was rising as well, keeping her above the fray. Small mercies. She could hear them talking down below.

"This is really getting interesting now, eh, Chris? Do you actually think you can defeat me?"

"Either way, I'm not gonna stop until I'm dead."

The strange man, who must have been Wesker, and who possessed a deep, soothing, cultured accent, laughed and said matter-of-factly, "Well then, I'll just have to kill you quickly."

A few shots went off, there were more sounds of fighting. Then the man growled, "I'll see you dead," and she just barely heard a rushing, flapping sound, like fabric flapping in a hurricane wind.

Unable to retreat, she snuck over to the rails and peeked over. What she saw boggled her mind. Chris and Sheva were both firing, dodging, and throwing blows, but nothing they did came even close to hitting their opponent. He was literally moving too fast for her eye to track. The flapping sound was his heavy black coat fluttering in the wake of his movements. It was one thing to hear it described, but quite another to actually see a human being become a vague black blur that dashed around like…like…like…

This guy moves like the Roadrunner! she thought wildly. Chris isn't fighting a terrorist, he's fighting a Looney Tune!

It occurred to her after about ten seconds that if she kept standing there, he might actually see her. The thought of that terrified her, and she stumbled back from the edge. Her heel caught something as she went, though, and though the object was light, it was bulky enough to kick her heel out from under her.

She toppled backwards and looked at what had tripped her. It was a silver case. Not just any silver case – the one Sheva had pulled that drug out of earlier. The PG67A/W. It was up here, and they were down there. She'd seen ladders to get up, though, so maybe they'd come and get it.

If they come and get it, that guy will follow them, and then he'll be up here with me!

That thought made her wish she hadn't just been locked into this hangar. But locked in she was, and unless something changed to that effect, she would just have to do what she could do avoid attention.

A little nagging thought rang through her head as she sat there staring at the case and listening to the fray. The gunfire continued below, with occasional quips from Wesker, though Chris and Sheva seemed to have their hands too full to return them. They couldn't even shoot Wesker, let alone—

Shoot Wesker.

Her hand went back behind her, grabbing the barrel of the tranquilizer rifle she hadn't even thought of since she'd run out of ammo. Except, she hadn't run out of ammo, had she? She had one more round – it had just jammed.

She monkeyed with the weapon until she figured out how to check the chamber. Sure enough, there was one more dart jammed in there. She pulled it out and took a closer look.

She popped open the case containing the PG67A/W and pulled out a syringe. Then she figured out how to twist the end off the dart, and shook out the syringe that had already been loaded in. The tranquilizer syringe looked just like the PG67A/W syringe. Maybe it was a basic Tricell design.

Her fingers moved largely without thought, as though she were solving a puzzle that had a seemingly obvious solution. But what was the solution here? She screwed the dart back together, loaded it in, clicked the chamber closed…and then what?

What do you think?

She shivered. Wesker didn't seem to know she was there. If she shot at him, he definitely would. And if she hit him, he…he'd kill her, wouldn't he?

And if nothing changes in this fight, he'll kill them.

No. She ought to just leave the syringes there. They could fight, they were clever. They could figure out how to inject him.

He's kicked them to the curb so far. They're only going to get slower and sloppier as they use up more energy, get more injured. This fight is going downhill fast. He's too fast, too strong. Their only hope is to surprise him – and you can't surprise someone who's pummeling you around an open, floodlit box.

She felt sick. But another thing occurred to her – if she had faith that Chris and Sheva could stop Wesker without her, she ought to also have faith that they could save her from him, especially with the edge she was about to give them.

She looked down at the gun in her hands, now loaded with their secret weapon. Like it or not, she was about to get involved in the fight. Very involved.

Without allowing herself any more time to think about it, she stood up, went over to the edge, and began tracking Wesker with the muzzle of her rifle.

I only have one dart. If I miss, it's over, she thought tensely. He was moving erratically, and she didn't want to risk a shot until it seemed like he wasn't going to go anywhere. She held her breath and waited.

Wesker had not expected a reply from Chris right away. That was fine. There was still time for discussion. That said, he was almost disappointed with how careless their initial assault had been. He didn't think Sheva had even noticed that he'd separated the case from her back and tossed it aside before tossing them over the rails. He'd considered destroying it briefly, then decided against it. He would still need the serum moving forward. It was enough that it was out of their reach. And if they went for the ladders, he could always just rip them off the walls.

They fired at him again, and this time, one of their bullets came close enough that he felt its airflow brush his face. He hissed in annoyance, drew his own gun, and fired casually at them a few times. Sheva scuttled away like a marmot, rolling behind some cover, and Chris ducked back behind some crates.

Wesker tried another stab at conversation. "Has it never occurred to you that this planet is overpopulated?" he asked. "Only a handful of humans truly matter. Everyone else is just so much chaff."

At this, Chris popped up and fired at him several times, and Wesker caught the disgusted expression on his face; as though a single word he'd said had been untrue! The world was dying around them, people were starving all across the planet, and at the end of the day, most humans took far more than they gave. They consumed, they idled, they bred, and the worst of them dedicated themselves wholeheartedly to violence and destruction.

Chris's response was predictable. He rushed out, drew his knife, and threw himself into hand-to-hand with a short roar of fury. Wesker knocked one blow after the next aside, then sent the knife skittering across the deck as he grabbed Chris by each wrist and held him a foot or so at bay. "So now, I have to separate this chaff from the wheat," he explained coolly, staring straight into his adversary's eyes. "And with Uroboros, I can finally accomplish this."

Chris wrenched himself free and threw a heavy sidekick at him. He rose his hand to knock it aside, but as he did Chris whirled around and threw a heavy fist, which he also knocked aside and—

Crack!

He hissed as a bullet lodged itself in his back, and he made to grab Chris and turn him about to block the bullets. How droll it would be, for him to be shot dead by his own partner…

But his enemy was already dancing back, calmer than he'd been a moment ago, and Wesker realized the anger had been a ruse. Sadly for them, no bullet was going to do anything like lasting damage to him. He could hardly even feel the one that had lodged in the rib covering his heart, nor would he have fared any worse had it actually managed to hit the organ.

"Only those with superior DNA will be chosen by Uroboros," he continued. No doubt Chris had pieced this together by now, but he wanted to lay it out as simply as possible. Get it through that thick, arrogant skull. "Only those fit for survival will be allowed to carry their genes into a new age!"

At last, he drew a reply out of Chris. A real reply, not just a visceral reaction. "And let me guess – you're the one who's going to rule this 'new age,' right?"

He'd turned to face Chris, and he just barely sensed Sheva running up behind him and leaping for his back. He turned, caught her in the air, and twisted her wrist to make her drop whatever weapon she'd closed in her fist before sending her flying away.

He looked down and saw a syringe. PG67A/W.

Looks like they discovered its use after all, Excella, he thought wryly as he brought his heel down on the medicinal toxin, crushing it into the deck. "Is that all you have?"

He saw the strain flare into being on the woman's face, and from that look, he surmised that had been all she'd had on her. Chris may have one, but if he missed his own shot, the rest would be permanently out of their reach. He'd make quite sure of that.

The pair backed away, mouths moving fast, directing their speech to each other and keeping it away from his own ears. Funny. As though they might actually come up with some way to stop him. And after they finished their dialogue, the woman ran off while Chris returned to the plate.

Wesker didn't care. Let the woman do as she would, so long as she stayed down here like a good girl. If she didn't, he'd gladly shoot her off the ladder.

He kept her just in sight as Chris engaged him again, and they took to a basic exchange of blows. "Let me clarify something, Chris," he said between hits. He restrained himself for the purpose of maintaining discourse, though it would have been so very easy to shatter the man's bones with every hit. "I don't think of myself as a king..."

"Oh, great, I feel more crazy talk coming on," Chris grunted, taking a step back to catch his breath.

Rude. Wesker dashed forward and sent a series of quick, easy, two-fingered jabs darting in to every pain point in immediate reach, and Chris was sent reeling away, doubled over and gasping for breath.

Wesker smirked. "No. I am a god; and even kings bow to gods."

Suddenly, up above, the main floodlight for the starboard part of the arena went dark. He was submerged in shadow, and Chris flung himself away, rolling into some cover.

Wesker rolled his eyes in annoyance. He had honestly hoped, upon seeing his new eyes in the mirror for the first time, that night-vision might be one of his delightful new skills. It was not. He saw no better in the dark than his opponents did.

He considered, then went dashing over to the console that he believed corresponded to the light that had been doused, only to find it sparking and damaged.

He narrowed his eyes and turned, hearing a light patter of footsteps behind him, and he pulled out his Samurai Edge as something flew towards—

"AUGH!" he roared as blinding light exploded in his face. A flashbang. Those worms.

Sight and hearing were briefly out of his reach, but some other sense compensated, and told him he was being attacked from the side. He lashed out with lethal speed, intending to kill whatever had drawn close to him, but somehow he missed. He snarled, then, knowing that the tip of a needle may well be very close by, and sent a palm rocketing straight out towards what he perceived was his attacker's center of mass. This time he got it. Chris was sent flying away. Something hit the ground at his feet with a light tink!

He dashed back and forth at random for several seconds until his sight recovered, and just barely spotted Sheva running low and silent away from him. She'd darted close, but had not attacked. Perhaps she had been retrieving what had been dropped.

He didn't care anymore. He was getting tired of this. He pulled out his Samurai Edge and took aim.

"Sheva, move!"

She ducked as he shot, and Chris covered her with his own fire before the pair rolled back behind some cover. He dashed over, quick and quiet, intending to listen in on any further counsel.

"A god?" Sheva said quietly to his old 'friend'. "He's completely lost it!"

"He never had it to begin with," Chris panted back. "We have to stop him. You get the syringe?"

"Yes, but it was close. It's the last one, then we'll have to try and retrieve the case up there."

"I don't like that idea. Let's try to make this one count."

Wesker's lip curled in contempt. Let them plot. He was finished with them.

He dashed up to the base of the plane. The pair exclaimed, perhaps thinking he was making a break for it, but he had no intention of running. Oh, no. He simply had to pick up a package.

The bomber had been unloaded of its previous munitions to make room for Uroboros, and a pile of missiles, each about ten feet long and weighing enough that it took four Majini each to transport them, was sitting just in range of the other floodlight. He bent over and picked one up, sliding a single hand under the large metal cylinder and raising the whole thing as easily as a man may lift a piece of firewood.

When he turned and spotted the pair emerging into the light full-tilt, then stopping, expressions turning from determined to shocked, he should have laughed. The sight of them skidding to a halt, turning on their heels, and fleeing should have been hysterical.

Instead, all he felt was rage.

You would deny me my perfect world without a paltry attempt to justify letting this planet rot, he seethed silently as Chris began running for the nearest cover. Too far, too far. And you think you are what this world needs? Another blind ideologue?

"Your struggle is over!" he roared, pulling the missile back and heaving it forward like a javelin, like a dart, as the woman turned on her heel and—

BOOM!

The world went white, and he found himself staggering uncontrollably, hardly able to remain upright. What had…

A pair of weak arms wrapped around his, locking his shoulders back in place, and that infernal woman's voice sounded in his ear. "Chris, NOW! Inject him!"

She shot the missile, he thought, the realization coming to him in an angry hum. That bitch.

He blinked, and a rush of adrenaline shot through him, clearing his system. Color and definition came back into the world, albeit madly skewed, and he saw Chris in double rushing towards him, arm up, the tip of a needle glinting in the light—

Wesker's double vision tightened into the singular, and his foot came up, the tip of his boot catching Chris's hand as it came down. The syringe went spinning up into the air.

The grip tightened behind him, but the woman's strength was meaningless now that he had regained control of his body. "Chris, get it, we can't—"

He ripped his arms free, drawing a gasp from her, and with a pair of hard knocks he sent the two reeling back once more. The syringe came down, and he caught it easily in his hands.

They backed away, ending up between him and the bomber. They were all in the high lights now, and he decided that he was done with this fight. The missile had knocked his sunglasses clean off, and if his clothing hadn't been made to a standard compatible with his body, they'd likely have been incinerated in the explosion. As it was, his jacket was in tatters, and he shrugged it off.

"Nice try." He broke the syringe between his fingers, tossing it down at their feet as the red and black fluid drained out of it. Both of their faces acquired a stony set that did nothing to soothe his rage. "But I think this fight is just about done. Unless you'd care to make a dash for the case?"

They glanced at each other, and while the nearly hopeless expression they exchanged was satisfying, he found it brought him no real joy. His anger was too great for that. Only their lives would quench it now.

They nodded to each other, and drew their weapons. Soldiers to the last. He scoffed. "Tch. Very well. Let us fi—"

His burning fury chilled to ice as he felt the needle sink deeply into his left glute. He froze solid, hand reaching back and feeling for the dart. Pulling it out and holding it up in the light revealed what looked like a tranquilizer, but popping the cartridge open revealed something very different. Though, the check was superfluous – he could already feel the venom working in his veins.

Remember, Excella, milligrams can make a difference. Too little, and my strength fluctuates. Too much…

Excella, if you ever get the dosage too high again, I cannot guarantee you will live to regret it.

Sheva and Chris both stared at the dart in shock. Then Sheva's expression turned to horror.

Wesker turned, eyes locking swiftly onto the slight, female figure standing on the balcony, a tranquilizer rifle braced against her shoulder.

Alyssa nearly shook with relief when she saw that she'd made the shot. She meant to turn and run, hide somewhere the moment it went off, but she found herself unable to move as Wesker turned to look at her. Even from here, so far away, she could see the red glow of his eyes.

She started shaking as he streaked towards her, covering half the distance in a second. Then he staggered, doubling over, and the sound of him groaning in pain just reached her on the light wind. The groans rose in pitch, turning into actual screams, and the sound sent chills down her spite. It sounded like he was dying…though she suspected he wasn't.

Chris and Sheva were running as well, and while Wesker was still recovering, twisting back and forth to keep his enemies in view, Alyssa turned away. Her muscles were trembling. She could barely move for the fear of having that man's attention on her. She'd been watching the fight closely, enough that it was obvious to her that the only reason Chris and Sheva were still alive was because Wesker been toying with them this whole time. If he got to her after she'd caused him this much pain, he wouldn't play around.

She turned and bent over to grab the case. She pulled a syringe out and put it in her pocket, just in case, then clicked it closed.

"Alyssa, run!"

Sheva had made it to the ladder on one side of the balcony, and was climbing it as fast as she was able. Alyssa turned towards her, and judged from the gunshots below that Chris was keeping Wesker distracted. Maybe she could…

She stopped, juking to the side as the dark figure surged up over the edge. He must have jumped fifteen feet or more, straight up, and now landed just before her.

She backed away from him against the wall, bringing the case up defensively in a panic. He stepped forward, shuddering, a tight grimace on his face. His eyes were locked on her, and as she watched, the narrow pupils widened suddenly and unnaturally, causing him to blink and twist his head away.

He stumbled forward, arm out. She tried to get away, but found herself trapped by him, his arms caging her to the wall. His head was bent low as he worked through whatever spasm was racking his body, and when it subsided, he looked up at her again, pupils furious, narrow slits. They hung mere inches from her face as his gaze bored into hers.

She could feel the hatred rolling off him in waves. He plucked the case out of her hand and, without looking at it, hurtled it away into the darkness, far enough that she doubted any of them would be able to find it again. She expected to die at any moment, the end coming in an instantaneous burst of agony, but for a long moment he only stared. Then he cocked his head and said,

"Who are you?"

"Alyssa!" Sheva cried as she finally scrambled up onto the balcony. "Wesker, get away from her!"

She fired at him twice. One bullet hit, the other skimmed past. Wesker glanced over at Sheva and pulled out his gun, but his arm shook as he raised it. He spat in disgust and put it away, and at this point, Alyssa made her move.

She darted past him, ducking to try and stay out of his reach, but his eyes followed her, burning with the promise of vengeance. She hardly made it two feet before his arm came up, fist curled, and lashed out to backhand her.

She turned to try and catch the blow, block it maybe, but the blow caught her stomach and sent her crashing back into the railing. Deep, mind-numbing pain spread from her gut up and down her body, as though the nerves were overloaded and sending the overflow to nearby neural reservoirs. She fell, tilting back over the rail and dropping like a discarded sack of laundry, and Sheva yelled something she didn't quite catch.

She was falling, she couldn't tell which way she was facing, and if she landed on her head, she'd split her skull open. She closed her eyes.

She hit, but she didn't hit ground. When she blinked and looked up, she saw Chris staring down at her, and realized that what she'd landed in was a pair of arms. He'd managed to catch her, like he'd caught David.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes wide.

She opened her mouth to reply, and that was when she realized she couldn't breathe at all. The pain had turned to a cold numbness that was spreading up and down her body from her gut, leaving her barely able to move her head and her feet, and unable to contract or relax her diaphragm.

She tried to force out a sound. She hardly managed a squeak. Then Chris looked up, swore, and backed away fast as Wesker came crashing down again.

He landed, dropping to his knees. It took him a moment to regain his footing, and Chris was still moving away from him, holding her close and half turned away, as though attempting to shield her. Sheva made her way back down as well, and they all found themselves in a pause in the battle as Wesker's head swung back and forth between them. He was weighing his options.

Finally he tensed and roared, a sound of raw anger and frustration. "This isn't over, Chris!"

He ran away, and despite the obvious toll the PG67A/W was taking on his system, his strength was still intact. He went for the bomber, leaping from the deck to the raised platform it was on, then leapt from that to the wing of the plane. He was trying to board it.

"Damnit, he's getting away, we need to hurry!" Chris said, already running towards the plane. But he didn't make it far before stopping and looking down at her.

She still couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She was cold, and scared, and she didn't want to be left alone. But she knew that if she wasn't, and if Wesker wasn't stopped, the whole world would pay the price.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the last syringe. He dropped to one knee and set her down carefully, freeing a hand to take it. He was clearly torn. He looked up as Sheva came over. "We can't just leave her here," he said, almost pleading. "I don't think she's breathing. We can't—"

"If we take her with us, Wesker will kill her," Sheva said quietly. "And if we stay, he wins. We have to go, and hope for the best."

She looked down at her, eyes sad. "Do you understand, Alyssa?"

She wanted to say 'yes', but her consciousness was flagging. She'd be passing out soon. She didn't know if she'd wake up.

She forced a smile onto her face and nodded. She reached up and closed Chris's fist on the syringe, and reached past and pushed him away.

His eyes closed. His entire face screwed up. Then he expelled a short breath, laid her down fully, and stood up. "We'll be right back for you," he said. "Promise. We'll stop him, and we'll be right back."

She felt too weak to move, now. She just blinked hard, hoping he understood.

"You did well," Sheva added, kneeling down and brushing her hair out of her face. "We wouldn't have this chance without you. Thank you."

Behind them, the bomber was revving up. She jerked her head a centimeter towards it to say go. It was all she could do.

The whole plane was turning, now, righting itself to point down the runway, and the speakers overhead were blaring out some new warning about runways and turbulence and safe distances. They pair finally left her, sprinting for the plane, and in her current position, she couldn't see what happened. The bomber took off a minute or less later. Since Chris and Sheva didn't return to her, she assumed that meant they'd made it on.

She was now alone. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She was cold and scared, and she was alone.

Then, before her consciousness faded out completely, she heard something, and wrenched her darkening sight up to the sky. A helicopter flew low overhead, just low enough that she saw the siding in the tanker's remaining floodlights.

It read B.S.A.A.

Then it was gone, heading off in the direction of the bomber. She let herself drift off. Maybe she was alone…but Chris and Sheva weren't.