Hindmarsh shared everything he remembered about the ship, its specifications and capabilities. He remembered his days as a test fighter pilot when he flew the Nighthawk as his personal weapon as a mercenary. The muscle memory was still there. It was part of his body. Whatever evil he had done, this ship, that wasn’t alive, was strangely his best friend. But nobody else needed to understand that. And it didn’t matter if he was insane for feeling more for a ship then he did for people. For several weeks, Perry interrogated him on the ship and its location. The ship was still somewhere out there. Hindmarsh never destroyed it.
After several weeks, the interrogation was done. Perry wouldn’t be able to squeeze anything more out of him.
Erin returned to the warehouse. She had a weapon on her. Her life had been consumed by trying to bring justice to this … survivor, Hindmarsh. Everyone understood what was going to happen next.
Perry left the warehouse and went to the next room where a one-way mirror showed her Hindmarsh and Erin Genoa together. Erin brought a chair and put it in front of where he was cuffed and seated. She then slowly loaded a single bullet into the handgun. In her age, she was slow and felt deplumated. She brought a camera with her, and took a photograph of Hindmarsh. There was also a recorder that recorded all the conversations in that room these past few weeks. These recordings were going to be the proof she would take back to her family to prove to them she was not insane. Finally, she raised her handgun and aimed between his eyes.
![[Image: 2-jun-2020-sig-FINAL.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fL6Vx1Sp/2-jun-2020-sig-FINAL.png)