The kid is wild eyed, too young, and for a moment Tom feels pity. This is what the Realm did. Nuke a whole through the bottom of humanity and suddenly everyone's biting and scratching with their nails, turf wars and genocides. Maybe the kid had only be strung along...
But he was a slaver. He was young, but around his neck, Tom could see the iron stamp the traders used to brand their stock with when it was cherry red, and in his hand, the kid had finally gotten hold of a wicked looking cattle prod, well used and flecked with blood. Tom saw it it crystalline detail, every smudge of dirt and blood, the crap under his fingernails, and his thumb pressing down on the trigger...
No second thoughts. Tom leveled the gun and shot, catching the kid at the base of the skull. Flash, shimmer, he dissolved into nothing before he hit the ground.
"You're alone," he told the man, speaking clearly over the rushing sound of his own adrenalin. "There's no one here to help you. Let him walk away. We'll all just....walk away."
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But he was a slaver. He was young, but around his neck, Tom could see the iron stamp the traders used to brand their stock with when it was cherry red, and in his hand, the kid had finally gotten hold of a wicked looking cattle prod, well used and flecked with blood. Tom saw it it crystalline detail, every smudge of dirt and blood, the crap under his fingernails, and his thumb pressing down on the trigger...
No second thoughts. Tom leveled the gun and shot, catching the kid at the base of the skull. Flash, shimmer, he dissolved into nothing before he hit the ground.
"You're alone," he told the man, speaking clearly over the rushing sound of his own adrenalin. "There's no one here to help you. Let him walk away. We'll all just....walk away."