<strong>Longshot: And if it couldn’t get any weirder…</strong><br/><br/>Calvin didn’t bother watching the girl. Watching anymore would have just made him put a bullet in her head himself, and then the psycho would get pissed and aim at him, he’d aim at her, everyone would start aiming at each other…just downhill from there. No. There was a job to do, and he refused to let such a trivial thing as the crawling mass of sobbing flesh there get in his way of a serious payoff.<br/><br/>How the dying woman got into the chair, he had no clue, but the hard fall back to the ground produced a sound that made him chuckle despite himself. There were things in life that were just funny because. That was certainly one of them. This was beyond cat and mouse…there was no purpose behind what was done, but maybe that’s what made the vicious second’s day. maybe she was an anarchist at heart. It would explain things some, at least.<br/><br/>Like the early ending of a show that cost too much and produced too little, he silently applauded the woman’s suffering put to an end by Anne’s bullet. She was now officially a non-topic. As Anne made her opening, his eyes slid to Nikita for a moment. There was something beautiful about people like her…he saw himself as an everyday tool. At times a hammer…sometimes a scalpel, depending on the job. People like her were like exotic knives. No matter what angle or task she was used for, the result would bring pain, and god help you if you didn’t know how to use her.<br/><br/>When he heard bomb, he gave his only sign of the meeting of discomfort. He was sure he could survive a firefight with the right odds, but explosives were far too chancy. Fucking wildcards had too much space to roam, and he didn’t have enough cover. Still, if she knew about it, then perhaps we wouldn’t all die here at this moment<br/><br/>*to be continued*<br/><br/>