[MaC] "Now we know..."

[Knave of Amber]

> > As soon as the third shot left the pistol, the Group
> > Commander was running again, the pistol still in hand.
> 
> When he arrived, Philip was down. The blood was bright red, most of it;
> probably a lung wound, then. Philip was gasping for breath with no apparent
> success, and his eyes settled on Michael's after a few moments. There was no
> anger in the eyes, no hatred, just confusion and regret.
> 
> Philip took a deep breath, in obvious pain, and tried to say something, but
> instead he simply died.

"Bloody hell," Michael spat on the rubble. He dropped to his knees
next to the body and closed the pilot's eyes. He whispered a prayer as
his own eyes began to tear.

"We're even Skeffers. One got away, this one didn't. A null game," he
said to no one in particular. He holstered his pistol out of sheer
reflex and watched the red stain slowly darken more and more of
Powell's uniform. It was different watching a plane billow with smoke
and fire as it fell from the sky, a result of your weapons. There was
a detachment that Michael just couldn't find here.