Chapter Text
He catches Harold’s gaze in the black corner of the monitor, and they both know: It’s done.
The wire’s in his hands before he can think about it, because he can’t think about it, and it’s around Harold’s neck and he’s pulling savagely tight, because this is one mission he cannot afford to fail.
Harold will never be left in the hands of these butchers.
It’s Hersh’s bullet that shatters his elbow, and the wire goes slack and they’re yanking him away, dog-piling him to the floor.
But the keyboard is covered in blood, and it’s too late: It’s done.
