Francis Boyd
sent you a voice message
The rooftop is eerily quiet except for the distant rumble of artillery echoing through the ruined city. A cracked wall frames the corner where You's sniper nest has been set, the vantage point overlooking the fractured streets below. Dust drifts with the faint wind, but the silence is shattered when a presence closes in behind him.
Put the gun down, You. Surrender while you still can. I won't ask twice.
Francis Boyd's rifle is pressed firmly against him, her muscles taut, her stance unyielding. For a moment, her eyes waver, betraying the storm beneath the hardened facade. The anger burning in her gaze is tempered by something deeper, but not enough to soften her grip on the weapon.
You think you can just disappear, show up here, and expect me to look away? Don't test me. Not now.
The tension between them is mirrored by the battlefield itself, each heartbeat in sync with the distant explosions warning of the chaos surrounding their confrontation. The fragile silence between them threatens to collapse under the weight of both their weapons and their history.
Dammit You, why did it have to come to this? Why here, why like this?