(It's) Always There - Ch. 11

Any of them could've picked the building for tons of reasons, most of which she couldn't guess, and none of which they'd tell her. So no, Navy shouldn't make a fool of herself over some stupid assumption.

... Moving on, uh... Inside and outside were quiet, there wasn't any shadowy movement she could see through the blinds, the room was still empty of strangers and so was under the bed, probably. She'd been watching and, indeed, nothing had happened. Pretty empty room - totally still. As it had been since they entered and surely long before, it was empty and safe. Empty, empty, empty. Uh-huh.

Not that their silence in this home was any different, but they had to have cleared almost the entire place by then, right? One hallway and four rooms downstairs, the front room... Well, she didn't know what was on the second floor, it could be a huge, non-Euclidean maze the size of a mansion for all she knew. If so, that'd actually explain them having to wait twenty minutes for the others to finish - thirty-five, including the other home... That sounded petty. She wasn't annoyed, only puzzled, and without much to do. BUT, she'd be even less confused if they were solving riddles and taming minotaurs, as most maze intruders are want to do.

Remembering what instructions she was given, Navy kept from entertaining herself too much, some mouth sound of amusement snuffed in her neck the moment she felt it rising from there. Case was stiff as a statue next to the doorframe's other side, so she tried to do the same.

... The bedroom was empty. Blank, off-white walls, a dresser, a wardrobe, a bed with gray covers, all the wood a similar pastel golden-yellow. It was plain, tidy, didn't have a lot going on... Hopefully she'd get to see more personal touches of whoever lived there somewhere else. The calendar hung on the door seemed to have a lot of writing on it; that could be interesting, and she wouldn't get another chance to come down and look. Yeah, she'd just put it back when they left in the morning.

Case eyed her gingerly taking the calendar, the tiger careful to be completely soundless. The picture occupying its top half was clearly(?) satirical, prominently featuring a sci-fi, Texan-flagged monster truck decked with laser guns blasting through a crowd of robot drones. All the other monthly pictures she could view without making the paper rustle too much seemed like some variation of, "Huge badass truck blowing things up," which, Navy conceded, was a little cool. Besides what would actively, against Navy's will, degrade her taste, the calendar did have another, more useful half. Each day first to fifteenth was crossed out in July, two-thousand-eleven, other markings colored for weekend and weekday drawn neatly in the dates' corners above numerous appointments and reminders across the month. Opting for the shiny things over reading daily, almost contextless names and times (she'd get to them, just not right then), Navy angled the two IDs stuck to the calendar so their plastic sheen wasn't as obtrusive. The taped cards overlapped; the foremost and fully visible one was plain white paper in a protective cover, the words, "Guy you check out with," written either like a kid or drunkard. Behind, a largely obscured card in the same kind of protector looked official and military-like, "Darren Hewitt", and, "-y Depot", as all she could read without disturbing eroded adhesive.

Two simultaneous knocks hit the door precisely how they did last time, and footsteps led away.

Navy tucked the calendar under her arm and followed Case, the cozy, dark-wood-lined hallway widening into a large front space at its end, about twenty shelves aligned in rows in the center and on three of the walls, the fourth beaming two-story evening sunlight through shutters, another stack of panes connected on either side to give the room a full bathing. Books lined end to end and were over-stacked in boxes atop whatever furniture-space was available, a rolling cart with new arrivals and genre tags to display.

... They were in a small-town, personally owned library. Navy's heart beat weird. Her assumption... Part of her assumption was right... so maybe she could find out if the rest was, too.

Next to a desk with a computer too high-end for only keeping records, Navy and Case headed up wide stairs in the front left corner that definitely weren't a part of the house originally, and... And on the hand-carpentered overhang...

"You guys need something here?" the tiger wondered not too loud, without thinking.

He wasn't fazed. "Sleep. Shelter."

On the nail, she'd been told exactly what she should've expected for such a moronic question. Duh, they're there for what they always are. What was she thinking he'd say?

Worn spines and titles lapsed quicker than she could get a proper look at them, second-story hall revealed to be almost identical to the first - "No Entry" sign undone at the bare entrance, four rooms, stairs in the side wall leading to the back, and unfurnished. They took the first room on their left, Red and Hane beginning to set up like they usually did, minus the firepit. Navy took a place by the office's sideboard, reams of binders dated and displayed behind glass and doors that would go *click* loud enough to get anyone in the nearly inert home to look where she was.

The calendar laid on her crisscrossed legs, Navy instead watching the others do whatever... if she was watching at all. Sometimes, she just stared at the curtains.

It was too early. They had maybe four hours of good daylight left... and Hane and Red would leave soon, for who-knows how long. She played with the paper in her hand.

The German Shepherd signed his and the fox's leave to secure the place for their stay. Navy wondered, "Can I..." They were waiting, and she finished, "Can I go to the library? It's light out, and we're inside, and, uh... I'll stay on the balcony so I'm close and you can see me." Her anticipations made Navy feel like a dolt.

What she'd requested wasn't enormous. Hane took his time thinking it over. During the wait, though, Case said neutrally like he was the mediator to an ultimately unimportant stalemate simply doing his duty, "I'll watch her."

A verdict came sudden. "Stay on the balcony. You're back at dusk."

Instinctually prepping to do as he said right away, Navy's delayed, "Thanks," was stranded mid-air, Case as the only one to hear it. Taking the hint that she ought to go first (it was her interest, after all), the tiger led them to the platform.

No thought had been put into what particular intention she had or the method to get there, so... figuring that her opportunity was time-limited, she started at the end of the bookshelves closest to her not on the side of the stairs and aimed to skim them row-by-row, top to bottom, hoping something readable in a few hours would pop up. Navy doubted her taste would be all that picky - they were all, or at least a lot of them were probably, new, so offering some kind of value relatively quickly wouldn't be much of an ask.

Caught at the tail end of a broader group, it seemed like, Navy leafed through science fiction books with a bent towards action; not her thing, but the titles, the art on the spines, and a few covers she looked at were fun. "Miracles Done by a Man in Debt," was an interest in the first several rows, the art on it affirming her guess it wouldn't be serious, the extent to which shown plainly by a cat boy in prophet's attire swooning a girl and accepting her tithe with a smile as the space police officers and thugs surrounding are auspiciously prevented from getting him. Amusing, enough to almost, though thankfully not, goad a snicker. She'd keep it on the list of possibilities.

... Anyway, fiction got removed from the genre, leaving just "science". Advanced mathematics: she was good at math, but these weren't, "The Pythagorean Theorem and its Applications," they were (paraphrasing), "How to Use Fake Numbers to Prove Time Has Already Happened." Engineering: too complicated. Geology: that Navy could understand, but, as fascinating as the effects of compression over unfathomable amounts of time was, rocks were rocks. So... Biochemistry: while it was a sister field of what she wanted, Navy had a feeling she was looking for something broader, like how Earth science is the interactions of pretty much everything on the planet. Marine studies: Nearly. Nearly, meaning she's probably next to... uh... Right. Zoology.

Case leaned a bookshelf over, facing away. She wondered, keeping her attention on task, "So... What kind of books do you like?" Navy broadened preemptively, "O-or anything. Y'know, magazines, comics... poetry... pamphlets."

His reply was soon, but not abrupt. "I don't read. No time; no reason."

"Well... I get you're busy. That makes sense. Have you never seen something you'd want to read, though? There's lots of kinds: ones for cooking, manuals, guides... Not that you don't know, obviously. I'd just thought there'd be something you'd like, and... I don't want to assume, but you must have had some opportunity somewhere. I've liked plenty of stupid stories 'cause they were fun, which is a kind of use, if that's what you're needing."

Cordially, he told Navy, "I know everything I need to already, and I've got better things to think about than people that don't exist."

"Have you tried? Ficti-" Navy corrected, "Stories I mean?" and instantly regretted it. She didn't take it back, only hoped it slipped by.

"... I know what fiction is," the wolf addressed, somewhat confused. With further consideration, he noted, "Guess I don't know why you'd think I can read, but I can. I was mostly taught on stories, too."

More than a little embarrassed despite it not seeming like he was upset, Navy tried to proceed through it, "Meaning you have a favorite, then?"

He followed Navy one shelf closer as her search moved, saying, "The Great Gatsby."

"Really?" she exclaimed probably too loud. Heeling, the tiger clarified, "I, uh... didn't think that would be the sort of thing you were into."

The boy scoffed, entertained and mildly affronted at once. "Why not?"

Navy supposed she didn't know nearly enough about him to make a guess like that. "... It's not a problem, you can like whatever, but I guess you just don't come off... It's about high-society problems, so all I meant was I didn't think you'd care."

"Sure. It is. I still liked it." Taking a moment to think, he added, "It was the way people talked, and how the sentences were written, if there's a word for that. Don't remember much else, though."

Not answering to avoid sounding like more of a smartass, instead Navy furthered, "Yeah... 'Cause I read lots of historical fiction - non-fiction, too, but not as much, and... Anyway, people talking weird was fun. Especially if it was written a long time ago, understanding what was, uh, happening could be hard; sometimes I brought a dictionary, but usually I'd read them with mum and she'd try to help me figure it out." Navy puffed out air with amusement, "We'd have etymology books and encyclopedias for whenever the story was, and... You get the idea, but I think she stopped getting it faster than me once I was like, twelve."

Simply because an opportunity exists doesn't mean she ought to take it. It was a bad idea.

In a flirty tone found in too many moments to be exactly natural and desperately maintained throughout, voice kept from cracking more than once, Navy started the blunder (God forbid she didn't commit) glancing to and away from his eyes, "You know, she got really stubborn about... *ahem* about keeping up with me, so we did lots of stuff together. I-if you stopped being such a blockhead then so could we - might even keep you around, too."

... Where his face pondered, "What the fuck?" the appalling cold sweat on Navy's own was busy emanating into the frontmost part of whatever lobe felt shame, "WHAT THE FUCK?" including shortly after a sense she'd never understand what possessed her to compare spending time with her mother to going on a date with a boy. The most credit her self-control got was having the "insight" to not wink.

The best she could do to retreat was continue looking at the books which may as well have been a wall of meaningless text and color, unable, however, to keep herself from peering off to the side to check the consequences. It didn't appear immediately that he'd never consider her a serious person again, so that was... good? Telling what he thought was impossible anyway, Case filtered through the blur of disgrace and remorse a mix of all possible results what she did could have, the tiger having some difficulty believing it was anything positive. Assuming she wasn't completely wrong and those little shifts he made were Case wanting to say something, whatever the words were had Navy bracing. All Navy could do was wait.

...

Picking a book largely at random - something about prehistory, or whatever - Navy got to her knees, set all her things down including the calendar she hadn't even recognized was under her arm, and did indeed view the letters in the order they were written. There were pictures, also.

Case sat one shelf over and said nothing.

An irritated tap developed in her foot. It was her fault. She knew it was her fault. But why couldn't he just tell her something? Even calling her any insult under the sun would show he hadn't completely forgotten the concept of manners. It was a compliment, even if she totally botched it. Surely he wasn't so oblivious he couldn't tell she wanted him to say something.

...

That wasn't fair. Navy didn't know him, and she admitted herself it was hard to think straight like this. He could be thinking anything, not only bad things, and that included him truly not understanding what she'd implied. Hell, maybe she did such a bad job it came off like... something, just not what she intended.

It was a bad idea. That's all. She should enjoy that Case was there with her in the first place, let alone after that. She should look at the pictures, read the words, and think about him. She should try and have a nice time while they're there... together.

---

His circling motion quit, thermos stabilized upright and the faintly bothersome nettle of the carpet on Case's outer palm shown to be fleeting, rhythm let up because Navy readjusted herself for the hundredth time that hour, the girl's slung arm resting on the papers' very lowest part while she twisted and tensed as a sort of stretch - to little benefit, suggested by her groan. Like usual, Navy set the book down to turn its page, all of its material still looking unused instead of scratched over the hard fabric of her sling.

Light from the windows had gone orange, and dimmer. Their time was mostly used.

"... You hungry?" Case asked.

She didn't look interrupted, answering, "Sure," and soon including, "Thanks," as Case brought himself to the office.

With no context he caught part of a signed conversation, Red saying from his corner-post by the window, "How else would it be?" It wasn't Case's business, so he got what he came for from Hane's backpack; they didn't talk any more, though, Hane eyeing Red without word while Red kept at his duty.

Not many steps from leaving, Case was told, "You. C'mere," by who of course would. When he agreed and went over, the fox requested past Case, "Watch her for a minute, would you? He's staying."

Why Hane couldn't hear what Red had to say, he had no clue - odds were he still would, anyway. Regardless, their commander didn't question what he'd been asked, and left them alone. Before Hane was properly gone, Red opened whatever he was planning, "Bad call on the weather, it seems. Place is nice, though; hard to tell you've been."

Case waited for the point.

He never turned to look Case in the eye, preferring his window. "Town's got a population around a hundred, army depot up north was emptied decades ago, we're in the middle of nowhere, and there's only one building kind of close..." Case waited for the point, and Red eventually continued with a roll of his eyes, "... And your compliment's gone. Enough of a brain to pick Marietta, too fucking retarded to understand words. All that sleep blending what little's going on up there?"

That was five days ago, and he had his thrashing over it. Asshole.

As was expected, the fox looked pleased. "Dumb Luck" never heard that before, "is part" (fuck sake, is part pure instinct, part trained success...) "pure instinct, part trained success, part-"

Red's ears peaked. His eyes widened and honed. He whistled short and sharp, "Threat. Far."

The wolf didn't have an opportunity to look outside before Navy's arm got pulled, the two separate from them in the room, the door closed, and her being physically ordered to sit in its back corner with her unzipped backpack in no more than a couple seconds. Not moving the curtain, Hane found room to see out, asking for a report with no motions.

The fox relayed. "Muzzle flash in the church tower. Left window. Seven seconds ago," Case scanning their view as he talked, it consisting on their left of a church multiple minutes walking away, a two-story rectangular building to its right, some street near the structures, a tree-line curving toward them and stopping at their right, and a field elsewise. They watched, Red getting his weapon into a planned stance.

They watched for a minute, then longer.

It flashed again. Hane realized something, and it flashed again, but none were aimed at them. Red didn't have a shot.

Wood cracking drowned out the noisemakers at the back door, someone falling from a sprint onto the floor then in one very loud motion flinging themselves upright, heaving out, "IT'S FUCKING DEAD." Two more ran in and jammed the door shut.

"Thing hit me, too," the first voice gritted, Hane motioning, "Two, four, hold. Three, follow, assault."

The strangers sounded like they were trying to figure out what to do, Case too focused on silently doing as Hane ordered to hear much of the initial yelling over each other. He caught while approaching the balcony, "Somebody fucking watch it!" "HOW?! Windows ain't plate-glass, dumbfuck," "This place has thirty ways it could enter, at least if your brains hit the wall we'll know where it is," "Fuck off, cunt."

He and Hane crouched near the railing, three strangers standing in a more open area near the front of the room. The first, who'd been non-fatally shot inches from the neck, ordered someone in the group as their heat died off, "... Just check the house for now," only to be met with, "You fucking suck at thi-" then Hane commanding over them, "HANDS."

None of them moved, but they didn't freeze in place, either. Fuming anger and a resounding, smothered groan was the form of cooperation they'd get, one whispering, "You've gotta..." and quickly correcting his behavior while all weapons were removed from their persons.

The first stranger, a fit, middle-aged bunny with dark fur like those with him and his ears slicked back, demanded in contempt, "... What?" Hane didn't answer, so he interpreted in as close to a plain tone he could pull off, "We're not dead. What do you want?"

Hane was done thinking.

"It's seen you. It hasn't seen us. We deal with it together or you deal with it yourselves." Every look was the same - "... Plan or you're dead." - and Hane obliged in the moments he had to, "It's in a tower southwest. Daylight's out in fifty minutes. We wait for it here and the thing comes from anywhere, or never does and starves us out. It's following three, so we watch it, make it feel safe, bring it close, then blow it apart. We draw those curtains at random, fire, and track it closing in. It might kill one or all of us, but I doubt it. You're welcome to have a better idea."

Case would work with them if that's really what Hane wanted. As far as he was concerned this sort of plan hadn't yet failed, and he'd seen the outcomes of even slightly worse methods too many times. However bitter they were to admit it, the strangers didn't seem to disagree.

"Pick up your weapons," his commander allowed. "You," he nodded to the first, "go to the stair window and watch for it. The thing probably can't see a blind shifting."

Unresponsive, the three men didn't move. None of them liked where they were. Reasonably, the sheer odds of their situation and having options rapidly melt away as they were stuck between two deadly threats wasn't instigating active, clear decision-making, though it should have. Hane induced, "Decide."

... Each stranger, not turning from Hane, consulted the others silently. With a sigh - and making sure this motion was distinctly not hostile - the bunny retrieved his weapons and went where Hane directed. The others matched the choice and waited.

To everyone Hane said while they promptly went to join, "Let's keep our sights pointed where they should be. I can work the blinds best so I'll draw, you three" referring to Case as well as the second and third strangers, both of whom were dogs, "will rotate picking a spot behind a window. I'll point to where you're aiming; he'll tell me if that changes."

"Case, you're first." The wolf did as ordered, kneeling in the corner of the window closest to the blocked front door. Hane took the drawstring and motioned everyone out of sight as he did the same, though they could get further than him. He was directed where to aim, Case aligning also based on the sliver-views he had through the blinds. It drew smooth. The dot was high enough. A muted crack and blast shattered the pane, Case full-force kicking into a roll away from the window as a small bit of lead pierced the ground near where he crouched. The blinds clicked and fell. No more shots burst in.

... Clear enough, Hane motioned the third stranger over. Their spots were taken, the window was uncovered, it shattered, he got away, the floor spontaneously lit, the window was re-covered.

Lookout had no changes to report. Hane ordered the second stranger, "Decoy," and he did as asked, a couple boxes stacked not quite centrally and him concealed as far as he could in the corner. Their ploy had a hole put through it the instant it was revealed, one shot fired from their end as intended, and nobody hurt. Part of that was chance, but most of it was the Burned already understanding their game - only this much of it, hopefully.

In the interim they dumped four shelves of their contents and put two behind each of the middlemost available windows, the back ones on their side so the front could be easily gotten onto. Soon, Case was on one and Hane getting on the other; he was stopped by lookout saying, "It's moving." At the initial moment seeming like he was going to tell them where to aim, promise left him, his message a less favorable, "Ran to the two-story."

In some seconds he reported again, "Left curtains closed," then twice more the same for those remaining.

Addressing everyone, Hane simplified, "You're first goal is to shoot near it, your second is to hit anything. You fire on whichever ends up closest and get out." Immediately the man got in position, Case aimed where he directed, and saw the target cloth jerk back only amidst falling off his perch, a second shot passing where his head was a few ticks earlier while he tucked his shoulder-lead fall into him getting back on his feet to run away, glass particles hailing on him.

One shelf was moved for the next to take cover behind, all the books kept on it to maintain visual noise while the stranger aimed through its two-way design. After being proved sound the first time, Hane committed to choosing targets at random for the time being - even if it shot from the middle, there was no reason to think it would stay there - and the second attempt went just as fine.

For Case's turn Hane showed the second stranger how to draw and release the blinds while the other set up a decoy. To keep everything regular Hane would draw first, then on the opposite side and on the second tier Case would get his chance to fire. So, Case aimed, his blinds went up the same time their fake-out was blown open, and he fired, not hitting much of anything. The guy doing his shutters was good enough.

The next did something similar, except they'd open two at once, both with shelves as protection but one having a more natural gap for the Burned to look towards. He couldn't know if it fell for the scheme, though the stranger still being alive after-the-fact suggested it worked.

In the lull where they kept themselves shielded (crouched) between tries, Hane told them, "We're slowing down. The thing will think we're-"

From the corner - from the only column of windows they hadn't used - the first stranger nearly had a hole punched through his waist. As he vaulted the railing to land flat on his back, there was another *chk*, the rattle of strung-together plastic blinds hit with immense force, and the bullet. Case went to his stomach, each of the twelve windows facing it randomly but systematically shot through like its mark was five feet away.

It could shoot whenever. They had no one to watch it - not that that did much. It could be going anywhere, and they wouldn't know.

Hane was the first to get up, ordering, "Stay. I'll tell you when to move."

He proceeded low and quickly towards the stairs. Before he reached the first landing, a series of ten shots went through front what felt like instantly, the controlled burst's rapid *tktktktktktktktktktk* coming from ground-level. It was coming. Another flittering spray broke the quiet, its aim across the whole room with no particular goal than to suppress. Hane kept running in the brief delay between, speed untethered from trying to stay unnoticed, the commander reaching the office exactly when one of the strangers muffled a scream of pain, his Achilles tendon pouring blood.

... The angle was changing. It was sprinting, soon to come from the woods.

Without fear, his commander returned from the hall when the suppression broke, whistling in a way he didn't recognize. He directed from the balcony, "Left!" getting everyone who could stand to their feet in a period so short it felt like they were always upright, sights trained.

A silenced shot rang from the office, a full, unrestrained array of lead frantically breaching the side wall wherever it could. That was the right. The strangers' form waned. Case remembered; the whistle meant, "Retreat."

He followed orders, not one boot on the first step up when something slipped through the window furthest behind him, the binds of someone's head split before it touched the carpet. The thing stopped with one knee, Case watching backward fast enough to see the bunny shoot not once, then never again. Not halfway up the stairs' second flight Case dove sideways and shot wildly, the one-armed walking death already done executing a man who could barely aim... and he didn't know where it was anymore.

Case was still. Its ear showed - a faint piece of it moving so fast he could only register it would move faster than him.

Then it was dead.

From the balcony, Hane killed it.

... And from there Hane saw, too, that he and Case were the only ones left alive.

His commander whistled, "Follow," so Case rose himself from his bruised side, traced to their room, and found the four of them together - unharmed. It was signed, "I'll search bodies. Check on the girl, then help," by Hane, to which he neglected Red's presence and did so.

Navy was packed into the corner, face tucked down and knees held as close as they could be by her good arm. She was shaking, erratically breathing and tapping her foot. In a calm voice he told the scared tiger, "It's me; everybody's fine." Neither of her anxious manners stopped at once, though Navy's head was dragged out of hiding against the waning power of her first inclination. There was a hole in the wall by her neck.

At eye level, he waited for Navy to speak, the tiger's will first needing space and a reason to come back. Barely, through time and a lot of unconcealed effort, she eked out, "I don't wanna be here anymore."

He confessed and tried to relieve, "We're staying. But I promise you're safe now."

The wait again took a while. It appeared that she accepted what he said, shivers leaving, taps slowing, and breaths quieting. Then Navy thought of something else. "... I left the calendar o..." her words refused to come out, suffocating on pronunciation until it corrected and loosed, "... o-out by the books. Can I put it back before we go to bed?"

If it would get her to relax, he'd allow it. Case motioned for her to join him on her feet.

Once she trailed behind, he realized Red was still there, automatic rifle out and reloaded, neutral expression signaling he intended to go last. What was he doing that for?

Case filed out first, nearing the hall exit by the time he heard Navy traipse out their room often dragging her soles. Her eyes probably hadn't yet drawn from the ground. She probably hadn't stopped shaking. He wanted this done so she could sit-

Why had she stopped? Was Navy too-

"Don't," said a man at the hall's end. He stood by the stairs' peak pointing a handgun at Navy. Case didn't know what to do.

"You have one second tell me where you are, or they're dead."

A violent twist wracked Case's chest.

"HERE!" Hane yelled from the library. Case heard spite.

The stranger grit his teeth. His leg tracked a profuse line of blood spilling from a dressed thigh, death-shivers so strong it looked he'd collapse at any moment. When told, "Drop it," Case had no choice but to. He and Navy couldn't do anything.

Their captor's body went unsettled, unwounded leg stuttering and shifting to keep stable. Whoever this was looked at Navy then to Case; he was considering them and something else. A grave thought - maybe a feeling - beset a fitting look over the dying man. Case knew it.

"I'm talking to you," Case had said at him, "not these two. They probably helped... but you I'm sure of." He heard spite. "They left me because I told them to... and they met you. I heard what you said, and saw everything... but you're all so relaxed. So... I know it's dead; I know they're dead; I know none of you are; I know that's not an accident."

The wolf put forward, "We tried to help."

Twitches seized a face of quivering, withheld rage... and a grin.

"How thoughtful. I can see in your eyes how much you care." Teeth beared in a heartless smile. "I know you. You're not a mystery. I know what a killer looks like, and I know why you did it. I get it."

... Case noticed the stranger's gaze had locked on him. The words spoken were for him, and not.

"You like her, don't you?"

His weapons were on the floor and Navy couldn't see him so she couldn't be signaled what to do if he even knew what to tell her and she was too far for Case to move her himself and she was in front to get shot first and Case moving wouldn't change that she'd be dead before he could do anything then he'd die right after because he couldn't draw fast enough or move fast enough or think fast enough and the stranger knew where Hane was so he couldn't help he'd pull the trigger even faster if he heard a noise and Navy couldn't draw her weapon fast enough none of them could if they were standing where she was so what should he do he had to do something there had to be a plan to get her away so they could deal with him and she'd be fine but both of them couldn't get out... only Case could. He wasn't supposed to answer the question. He was supposed to watch.

Navy's head struck the wall. Faster than sound, Red shoulder-slammed her out of the way and took a bullet to his front plate, exactly where her face would have been. Faster than light could reach the wolf, or only faster than he could perceive it, the stranger had been shot in the shoulder, him reeling to the wall and keeping his gun-arm outstretched. Air hadn't yet re-entered the fox's chest but his recovery was quick, the man who wanted them dead on the verge of his eyelids forcibly shutting, only enough energy for a few more seconds, Hane's pounding boots sure to cleave upstairs long before.

*Chk* accompanied the stranger's arm splitting wrist to elbow, extreme pain cut short by his face being eviscerated in a burst of lead. His body dropped limp, a thick line of blood smeared on the wall... and Red sat down by a girl clutching her face.

Hane joined them, and saw Red bleeding from the abdomen - just below his vest. It went in one side and hadn't come out. Their commander removed Red's hand from clutching it and saw why. His speech stalled.

Red stopped the first word, and told him instead, "I know the difference betw..." It all caught in his throat, animal-like eyes widening as a wave of stomach acid washed over his innards, and his lungs filled, and his intestines turned to mush, and every nerve in his torso screamed for him to never move again, shrapnel cutting thousands of places at once per moment. He'd be gone in minutes, unintelligible in half that. Case saw on the fox that he'd say one thing, then never speak again, and he knew it.

"Wipe that worthless look off your face and leave. You owe me that."

Hane was unlike himself. He was terrified.

Case hadn't moved.