Rye stepped back and to the left. Now, he had a clear shot that wouldn't put Eden in danger. He raised the gun, sighted and pulled the trigger. He felt the kick of the gun but in his large hands, it was more of a pronounced buck like a deep hiccup. The acrid scent of gun powder and the reek of smoke filled his nostrils. Without hesitation, he fired again and once more. His ears were ringing. Rye decided he hated guns and bombs for the sheer fact of the deafness factor that created.<br/><br/>The bullets found their targets as blossoms of blood formed on Stark's body. Rye knew he needed a head shot to take Stark's head from his body,messy but effective as the legends and old stories said. He sighted on Stark's face, curiously feeling sorry for the Career's ranting and his incapability of feeling anything but disdain for other people. Blowing out his breath, Rye pulled the trigger, once more knowing his bullet had found its mark.The wait for Stark to fall or to recover seemed infinite but Rye watched intently.<br/><br/>Rye stepped back and held out his hand to Emery without taking his eyes from the bloody mess in the tree. He couldn't hear Eden or Emery. He could only watch as the blood drained out onto the ground under the tree, soaking into his shoes.