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</div><br/><div style="text-align: center">《 Ray 》<br/>
<i>Location: Northeast part of KOA </i>​</div><br/><br/>Ray took his time, quiet as can be as he made his way to the northern part of KOA, down the east side, following close to the river. Starting there, the sound of the running water would help to keep his presence concealed, along with any struggle he encountered. It was as he suspected. The exiles had moved along to KOA, just as the guards had overheard them. He wasn't sure how many there were in total, so keeping his location hidden for as long as possible was paramount. If they'd managed to overrun Armando, he didn't doubt that they were dangerous. Alvaro pointed out that perhaps some of theirs had been taken alive, for purposes of negotiation, so it was possible this was a recovery mission. It was the last hope for the man that had grown from just a standard employee to practically part of the family. Not to mention the possibility of recovering the additional men his father saw value in. The job would be a mashup of styles. Clean and efficient, with a ruthless edge. Ray would establish himself as someone willing to do whatever needed to be done for the community. For his people.<br/><br/>Ray found the two fishing along the river first. He waited until the one exclaimed 'fish on', excitement contributing to distraction, before making his first move. He dispatched the first without any hesitation, slitting his throat and moving on to the man focused on the pole in hand. The struggle was brief, the catch forgotten, and the two left to turn beside the river. How long that would take was anyone's guess. The exiles were not making great efforts to stay quiet, nor did they seem particularly organized. As soon as the necros revived, they would be drawn right to his targets, giving them more to worry about than him alone. He moved along through cover, searching for his next target. She was another easy one. A purple haired girl off by herself. He left her to turn, too.<br/><br/>Ray moved along, hidden between the trees and resting the rifle on low branch as he steadied himself. His breath was even, controlled. The others were grouped up a bit better. Four individuals, three of which were holding hands. In prayer? The fourth.. Ray struggled to identify him a moment. Dan. One of their own. That momentarily threw him off. A possibly betrayal? Ray was hesitant to condemn the man without more solid evidence. Not the same way he trained the bolt action rifle on the other three with cold efficiency and fired in quick, precise succession. Five shots, none of which were headshots but it wasn't because his shots had been off. On the contrary, he'd placed them exactly where intended. The chest of two, and the throat of another. Denying them their salvation. Denying them atonement for their guilt and sin. Sending them back to whatever god they were praying to, or not. Depending on what one believed in. Ray didn't believe they would meet their maker without a clean death. Necros no longer possessed souls, so therefore they were not entitled to heaven or hell. It was the ultimate purgatory, perhaps worse than any fate. He wanted to rob them of eternal peace and the joy of god, the same way he imagined they robbed Armando of his peaceful eternity. He reloaded the rifle. He was cleaning up a mess his father should have had the forethought to stay ahead of.<br/><br/>One lingered the way a deer bled out slow with a lung shot. If that proved to take too long he was was would issue a followup shot, but some suffering was due. Suffering was yet another distraction. The other two faded fast. He stopped to watch Dan's reaction, trying to gather enough to pass judgement as he adjusted to target the man standing amongst the carnage.