Old Acquaintances and lost friends

[Bazza]

Evangeline stood proud over the fallen woman before her, the Junkers' subconscious lust for dominance now clearly tainting an otherwise inoffensive persona, her eyes portraying a disgusting satisfaction with the procession of events; a corrupt and damnable smirk across her face.

I think... you misunderstand your position.

If I wanted you dead, I'd've killed you when you boarded.

She pauses for a moment, collecting her words.

You know, some of the best friends I've ever had were made by shooting them.

Evangeline pulls her own firearm from her waist, much smaller than the rifle her chaperone bore but no less dangerous amidst the cramped quarters of the frigate's airlock. She takes aim at Sev, heaped on the floor; partially disabled and unable to defend herself.



You're about to be befriended.



Evangeline fires a single round from her pistol, hitting Sev in the lower back; right across her spine. The deafening scream of the pistol lasts for only a moment before all of the woman's senses are blinded by the immense pain of the impacting bullet. The armoured vest does its' job in protecting the wearer from mortal injury, yet much like before it does not prevent the immense volume of energy from being transferred into flesh and bone.

The victim screams loudly, her chilling cries echoing throughout the ship's vacant hallways. Her back arches in reflex to the injury almost instantly, however it would prove useless in abating the torture afflicted by the bullet.

Without being given a chance to recover, Evangeline fires another round into her back - deliberately hitting an area protected by the vest whilst at the same time avoiding the previous shot.



How many of these can that vest of yours take, Seventeen?

Or, rather, how long until you feel like surrendering yourself to me?

You never know when I might miss and hit something important, sweetie.

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