Blessing and torture came in the form of a beautiful, starry night. And Senna wanted nothing more than to vanish.

Jerico tried to talk to her before, but Senna made it clear she preferred to be left alone for a while. So, as soon as they camped out at a two-story house for the night, Senna went upstairs and found the most secluded room to rest in.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she made her bedding on the floor, the only light being her small lamp and the shine of the Moon just outside her window. As she lay on her back, she couldn't ignore anymore how much her soul and body ached, exhaustion and dread pulling her down. She didn't sleep for more than four hours the night before, pulling the first overwatch the night before, so she was ready to sleep until Jerico came barging inside. But if somebody's line wasn't in danger, there was no chance she would rise before the sun. Not today.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the voice of the others downstairs, the Shadows discussing who should be on watch duty tonight. But before they could decide, Senna was already asleep.

In her dreams, the ghost of the three Black Jackals came to haunt her.

**

Something woke Senna up.

Blinking slowly, she looked around the room. Her small lamp in the corner was still on, the ambient light soft and warm. Raising her head from her clothes that worked as a makeshift pillow under her, she saw that it was still relatively dark outside, so she couldn't have been sleeping for more than a few hours.

Tiredly, she raised her hand to wipe the dream from her eyes, trying to wake herself up a little. Senna always found it hard to get back to sleep after she was woken up, so maybe she could just sit outside and watch the sunrise. Maybe even talk with the current watch as she did so, get closer to the Shadows. Unless it was George - she would turn straight back around, she just didn't have the spirits for it today.

Usually, the woman was a heavy sleeper, she didn't wake up to the others moving around. However, the stress and anxiety caused by the mission could easily disturb her previous sleeping habits.

But still, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was not right.

Maybe she should check on Jerico, he could be still awake. He could take her mind off with some mindless chatter or causal shit-talk.

Yawning, Senna hoisted herself up and dusted her pants off. Circling her arms around her torso, she headed towards the small hallway and down the wooden stairs. Something about tonight was colder than usual, making her shiver slightly as she placed one foot after another.

Her left hand reached for the railing through the thick darkness, slightly losing her balance. The steps creaked under her weight, surely signaling to the one on guard downstairs. She knew that Jerico would be in the room just below her room, in the dining area.

Going around the corner, she could see the low warm light illuminating the dining area, seeping into the dark hallway, and blending in with the dark shadows. They had this kind of routine whenever the two of them were on the same mission: if one of them couldn't sleep for some reason, they knew the other wouldn't mind the company. Jerico was maybe cranky whenever she woke him up but eventually worked over his morning depression and found ways to make things bearable.

He always managed to make her feel better, no matter what. And Senna made it her personal mission to try and give back the same feeling to him.

But just as Senna stepped inside the lowly lit room, her feet froze.

Jerico lay on the floor atop his sleeping bag, boots still on his feet in case they needed to run and wouldn't have the time to get dressed. He was usually a side sleeper, but now he was on his back. The metal cup he always carried around with him was knocked over by his feet, water spilled on the tiles.

It took a second for Senna to notice his wide eyes and slit throat.

A gasp left her lips, her wide eyes fixed on the huge gash in his throat, dark blood oozing from the wound. Without a thought, Senna rushed to him and put her hands on the wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

The feeling of her brother's warm blood bubbling between her fingers will forever haunt her.

"Jer-Jerico," his name stumbled from her lips, her eyes searching his face. It was pale, splattered with his own blood, eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. "No, please, don't, please-"

A desperate sob tore from her chest, her clammy, wet hands still desperately trying to stop the bleeding, even though deep down she knew he was gone. But her heart didn't let her give up, even when there was no pulse and his blood pooled around them.

After a few minutes, her brain finally took over and made her hands release him. Through her blurry vision, she looked into his eyes, frozen with the last emotions and thoughts that went through him before his life spilled onto the dirty tiles under them.

Everything was too much. She couldn't believe it. She still must be dreaming.

This can't be real.

Senna fell back and scooted back until her back hit the cabinet, her eyes pinned on Jerico. With shaking hands she tried to push back her hair out of her face, just to smear all his blood on her skin. The smell of blood overpowered her senses, making her gag.

This must be just a sick nightmare.

Jerico was dead. Someone has murdered her best friend, her brother. The man who was by her side whenever she felt down or things got too much for her – he was always there to pull her up whenever the waves clashed above her head. And now he drowned in his own blood before the rest dripped onto the floor.

Whoever did this, must be still inside.

Senna wanted nothing else than to cry her heart out beside him, guilt and disgust weighing her down and taking all her strength. She promised Farah that everything would be all right and that she would take care of the team. And now the one closest to her heart laid right in front of her, his eyes soulless and his blood tinting her skin and clothes.

The woman sat on the floor for god knows how long until she heard a thud at the far end of the house. She knew she should get herself together and check up on the others – maybe she could save them.

Do the thing she failed so badly with Jerico.

And everything just hurt so much more that he probably kicked his cup over to wake the others and give them a chance to survival.

**

König couldn't breathe.

Someone was very adamant about crushing his windpipe as they pushed their entire weight on him, waking him up rudely. It seemed like no matter what, he just couldn't get a good night's sleep these days.

Blindly reaching to his right, he tried to reach for his knife but it was too far away. He didn't even try to get to his gun, he knew it was inside his bag, and there was no way he could get it.

His vision started to go black as his oxygen got cut more and more, when he realized that maybe this could be it. But there was no way he would get choked out in a desert without even trying his best to fight.

With a new-come strength and adrenaline flooding his veins, König yanked his knee up and blew his attacker's side. The sudden motion caused enough distraction that the hold on his neck loosened a little.

Throwing his hips in the air, König was able to knock the attacker off himself, the weight and hands finally off of him. With a gasp, he took in a huge gulp of air, the eagerness making him cough. While the attacker tried to process the sudden turn of events, König lounged for his knife across the floor.

It was so dark in the room, it was impossible to see anything. Blindly, his hand tapped around his gear while the person he had just thrown on the floor tried to gather himself after hitting his head.

König didn't hesitate to get atop the other man, cutting at the arm that tried to hit him. A loud yell erupted from the man under him, warm blood splattering onto his balaclava-covered face and chest. The Austrian's eyes adjusted to the dark enough that he could see the familiar glint of the Shadow Company gear, the man's face hidden by their usual disguise.

His own team just tried to kill him.

The realization made his hand tighten around the knife as he raised his arm, striking the man in the neck with force. His yells soon got drowned by blood gushing down his windpipe, the Shadow's arms desperately trying to claw at him, but König's other arm overpowered him easily.

Twisting the knife and ripping chunks of skin with it, König ended the man's life in a matter of seconds. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to get more air into his lungs, staring ahead into the darkness. After a few moments of gathering himself, König stood and wiped his knife against his pants, fixing his eyes on the body before him.

He had no idea who this was exactly. He sure as hell didn't know why he did this. They might not have liked him that much, but this seemed a little far-fetched. It was just so unreal – they talked a few hours ago.

And now the American's blood tinted his hands.

With the back of his hand, König tried to wipe off the blood that splattered on his balaclava, already turning to get his stuff. He strapped his vest on and loaded his gun with precision despite the darkness: he tried to make friends with the darkness, eyes already adjusting.

Because if he blended with the darkness, the abyss claiming him with wide arms, the team he thought to be allies wouldn't see him coming. The darkness could be his only ally.

Before departure, he checked the mag in his rifle and clicked the safety off, knowing that he couldn't trust anyone.

He was alone.

**

Just as Senna stood to check out what all the noise was about, another silent figure emerged from the darkness on her left, straight from the living room.

Ducking behind the counter and away from his eyes, whoever he was, Senna sneaked towards Jerico's handgun, abandoned right atop his bag. It was just a few feet away from her, yet so far: if she just happened to stick her head out from behind the sweet cover, she knew her head would be blown off. She had to be clever about this.

Her wide brown eyes searched the place for anything she could use as a distraction while keeping an eye on the figure that moved around just across the room. Jerico's lamp happened to be positioned just right, so the person moving in front of it would project onto the wall, a dark, monster-like shadow looking above her.

Scooting just a foot to the right, she kept her back against the side of the kitchen island. Part of the island was missing its parts, making a hollow place just on her right. Inside it, there were cans and bottles piled up, something that could pose as the perfect distraction just until she could get the gun.

With cautious hands, Senna slowly reached inside the cabinet and picked up an empty can. It was missing a lid and started to rust, but it will be perfect. Raising her gaze on the wall right across her, she watched as the huge shadow moved to the left, just where she needed him.

She knew if she was to think things through, she may not go through with it. But then her gaze shifted towards Jerico, who was staring right ahead, the same betrayal shadowing his face. Tears blurred her vision as she forced a deep breath inside her lungs, clearing her head.

For Jerico, I will get revenge.

For Jerico, I will spill blood.

For Jerico, I will kill them all.

So the woman chucked the can in the opposite corner without a second thought. The metal clinked and rolled around the floor obnoxiously in the dead silent house, the man instantly turning to check the noise out. With him momentarily distracted, Senna lunged for Jerico's gun, quickly checking if it was loaded.

Thankfully, it was. Jerico always made sure to have weapons ready if he needed to protect Senna.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Senna said internally, giving one last look to her non-blood brother, clicking the safety off with determination. As she ducked around the kitchen island, pointing the gun straight at the dark man in the corner with his own rifle raised, Senna didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

One of the bullets got him in the back of the head, while the other caught his slightly exposed neck. Blood splattered on the pale walls beside him, shock making him gasp and his hand coming up to try and stop the bleeding.

When her eyes met with George's green ones, she didn't even blink as she shot him in the face.

George fell to the ground with a loud thud, his rifle falling from his hands with a sickening sound. His hand twitched one more time before his whole body went motionless, heavy silence falling on the room. Senna's hand shook slightly as she kept her eyes trained on George, watching for any signs that he would get up.

Cautiously stepping closer to him, the woman took a look at him, wincing when seeing the state of his face. Half of his face was covered by their signature mask, and the other half of his face was covered by fresh blood. The bullet went straight through his right eye, blood oozing from the hollow hole.

It was a gruesome sight, the sickening feeling that she just did this justified by the grieve that seeped into her pores.

Just as she wanted to get closer and take a closer look, the floorboard behind her creaked.

Whipping around, Senna pointed the gun straight at where she sensed a presence, her finger already on the trigger and ready to take another life. But when her eyes met a familiar steel blue, her breath hitched in her throat.

She didn't expect König to stand in the mostly dark doorway, gun pointed straight at her. His tall, lean body filled the narrow doorway, the dangerous glint in his eyes shining like shy stars in the midnight sky. But the second he took a step closer and tightened his grip on the rifle, something switched in Senna.

Something changed in him.

The eyes she liked to admire so much now were cold and had a weird glint in them. Something murderous. He straightened his back, legs shoulder-length apart, shoulders tense: he looked like someone ready to attack. His sniper hood with the bleached stains under his eyes made him look like a monster straight out of a nightmare.

She didn't recognize this man. And standing at the other end of the gun, she finally understood the deep-lying fear she saw in his victims' eyes. Right before he decided to end their lives.

And now he was going to do the same with her. Because she knew how fucking bad this situation looked. Drenched in blood and just killing a man wasn't the best look.

"König, it's not what it looks like," Senna tried, the hold on her gun loosening as she stepped away from George.

König mirrored her and took two steps to the side as well, keeping the distance between them. His eyes swiftly moved and looked at her body before returning his gaze to hers. Senna cringed, knowing damn well that she was covered in blood, looking very much guilty.

This looked really bad. Especially with Jerico's blood still fresh on her hands.

She could understand why he would try to kill her as well. Hell, she didn't even know if he was on her side still. But even the thought that he was here to kill her wasn't enough for her to pull the trigger.

She couldn't. Not with their interactions still fresh in her mind. So many people had died in the past few days, and she wasn't ready to take away another. Not his.

Senna watched helplessly as his hand tightened around the rifle, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her. Even though her own gun was pointed straight at his chest, her eyes pleaded with him to hear her out, to put down the gun. But it only took one look from him to know it wasn't going to happen.

She just hoped she would have enough time to duck and run before he could put a bullet in her.

Maybe she could try to buy some time by talking. That could distract him.

"He hurt Jerico," Senna's bottom lip quivered, not being able to say what really happened. "He tried to hurt me as well."

Saying her thoughts out loud, she recognized that she didn't have any proof of that. She didn't see him cut Jerico's throat. She didn't wait long enough for him to raise the gun and shoot at her or lounge at her. Maybe he didn't do anything to harm them. Maybe he was innocent and she just killed him.

The arm holding the gun shook, the weight of the situation pressing against her chest, suffocating her. Senna felt like she was going insane.

She might have made the biggest mistake of her life. And she could be paying with hers because of that.

"Please, just-"

The woman didn't get to finish her sentence, as König pulled the trigger.

______________________________

remember my last note?

THINGS ARE FINALLY HEATING UP! i fucking love angst, the more chaos the better

rip jerico, he was a true king and he'll be missed dearly

not like george tho. i heard you loud and clear, he had to go lol