9. The Old-Fashioned Way
Niko lay in bed, the sounds of late-night traffic humming outside his window. It had been three days since he’d first seen the files Kestrel had sent him. He hadn’t slept more than four consecutive hours before waking again. Every time he closed his eyes, the videos replayed themselves through his mind, unbidden. He couldn’t push them away, couldn’t erase what had been seen.
On the second night, he had gotten so ill he’d grabbed the nearest trash can and thrown up bile; his appetite had vanished and his empty stomach twisted into a tight knot. When he was able to sleep, he dreamed about what he’d seen. Sometimes the images mixed themselves with memories of his own mother and Ryen. When he’d woken up from that, he stayed awake, too sick and shaken to attempt going back to sleep.
On the third day, he’d watched some of them again. They were already a part of him, ingrained despairingly into his mind. What Kestrel had sent him truly was the worst of the galaxy’s bottom feeders, acts so heinous and disgusting he didn’t have words for them. Adults, children. Male, female, nonbinary. Honeybliss didn’t discriminate in their filth and cruelty. They, in fact, reveled in it.
Whoever the Honeybliss network hired to clean up their records and sweep their sickening truth under the rug was immaculate at their job. Not a trace of these acts existed online, in the media, nor even in discussion forums anymore. How Kestrel had managed to get it at all was a feat of rare skill. And it was clearly a labor of… love was hardly the right word. Dedication, maybe. Determination. The files were thorough, they were damning. They were well organized and documented.
How had Kestrel lived for years with this knowledge? These images?
If I have to see it one more time, I’ll lose my shit,he’d said.
And Cleo—
His own sister was in those files. Kestrel had never killed her. He had never been violent towards her. Uru Taal had, by some unfortunate chance of fate, chosen her for his sadistic desires, and she never came home.
And now her brother—abandoned in her absence and helpless to stop what had happened—was killing her killers.
Niko couldn’t blame him anymore.
In some ways, it felt familiar to his own story. He had been there before. But the abyss that Niko had traversed once, Kestrel was making a home in. Settling in for the long haul.
Kestrel was headed down a path that he could never return from. Even in his incredible skill, it was unlikely he would ever make it so far as Uru Taal. Galapol, hunters or mercenaries would get him long before that. Multiple civilizations wanted a piece of him now, because he’d taken from them the people they truly believed were good. And where the anger and outrage stopped, the unfathomable bounty began. Niko wouldn’t be surprised if Honeybliss itself contributed a sizable chunk of that money.
It was all wrong. There had to be a better way than this. Niko knew Kestrel just needed to be heard. It wouldn’t forgive him to the public—nor from the law—for having taken lives into his own hands. But it would at least shine light on Honeybliss and open an investigation that he knew would shake the galaxy to its core. And maybe he could help Kestrel slip away somehow, disappear from the public entirely, somewhere he would never be found.
Niko had made a promise to his brother that he would put an end to this. Maybe it would just be in a way neither of them had expected.
He had to talk to Kestrel.
Niko opened the phone hologram. The time read 4:41 in the morning. He swiped through his contacts until he landed on Kestrel’s, then hesitated. He wanted to reach out, to ask if the other man was alright.
Of course he’s not,Niko thought. What would even be the answer to a question like that?
He swallowed, then opened their text history.
Elliott?Niko sent. His gaze raked across the long shadows of his bedroom.
The notification chimed at him. I’m here.
We need to talk,Niko typed. Please. Can you meet me again today?
There was a long pause, Niko left only in the quiet of background traffic and the dark of his bedroom. He was aware of its walls suddenly, how they boxed him in, pressed down against him.
I’m preoccupied today, Kestrel finally sent. Niko had a feeling he wasn’t referring to attending a party. Or maybe that’s exactly how Kestrel thought of this whole thing.
Niko knew today, Jande Seiiren was on the list, the next name and event to come up in chronology. He had seen the sickening things the Heenva painter had done, using his victims to sate his lust. His appearance at the Duskdream Art Festival had been canceled, the man cowardly—though smartly—hiding away. More and more on the list were catching on, beginning to cancel their appearances and events.
Seiiren won’t be there today, Niko sent.
Another long pause lingered before the phone chimed again. Niko tried to imagine what the other man was doing—preparing for his next kill, maybe. Checking that his weapons were loaded, that his cloaking device still functioned. Checking and double checking, probably. Maybe the hologram of their conversation was in the air beside him as he worked, and he absentmindedly looked at it every time a ping came through from Niko’s end. Or maybe he was sleepless too, lying in bed somewhere, mind turning over again and again with the same dark images that afflicted Niko now.
He wondered if Kestrel was quietly waiting for every response the way he himself was.
I know that. It doesn’t matter. I’m tired of waiting, if they’re going to be cowards.
Niko’s heart sank. This time he hesitated, staring at the bleary transparent blue of Kestrel’s words as they hovered in the air, a menagerie of ghosts.
Elliott, can we talk about this? I saw the videos too. Everything these people did is despicable. It’s given me nightmares since I— He deleted the last line. I don’t blame you for what you’re doing. I see you and I hear you. But there has to be a better way than this. What you’re doing has only one way to end. These people need to be brought to justice. The public needs to know what they’ve done. I can help you get these files out.
He thought about Zann. His brother was a single file transfer away. Niko could have all of the damning evidence of Honeybliss in his hands in moments. Galapol needed to know. It certainly wouldn’t absolve Kestrel in the eyes of the law, but it would open the doors to a deep, sordid web of secrets and crimes masterfully kept under wraps for decades.
But something made him hesitate. Sending this would show Zann he’d been talking regularly with Kestrel. His heart leapt at the thought. Would Zann see it as a betrayal? He probably would. Would it be something they could recover from? Niko wasn’t so sure.
I am bringing them to justice,Kestrel sent.
Niko sighed. He ran a hand over his face; stubble was already covering it. He was losing track of time again. Maybe I should just let it grow, he thought.
Right now nobody knows why you’re doing this. It all just makes you look unhinged and cruel. People need to know about Honeybliss. They need to know that the leaders and celebrities they believe in and love aren’t who they think they are.
You think I haven’t tried?Kestrel shot back. His replies were getting quicker. Niko imagined his eyes narrowing, sharp and angry and intelligent. The same look Niko often found himself on the receiving end of. Every time I tried to get this out, I was silenced. They’ve bought their own hackers who built online AI to scan for and delete references or files. They pay off people in the media to stop the truth from getting anywhere. I have tried. And tried. And tried. That route isn’t possible. So I’m making my own.
We can work together on this. I know somebody at Galapol who’s trustworthy and who will listen. Whatever you’re about to do today, please just rethink it. Talk to me instead. Niko rubbed at his chest. He hadn’t realized how hard his heart had started hammering.
He waited. And waited. Thin lines of gold stretched and shrunk across the wall as a passing car’s light trickled through his blinds.
Elliott?
Kestrel wasn’t responding anymore. Niko held his thumb over the phone icon and after a small delay, his call patched through. He waited, frozen, as each soft ring narrated the passing of slow seconds. Eventually, an automated voicemail prompt took over and he hung up.
Answer the phone. Or respond to me.
Nothing. Niko sank back against his pillows, staring up at the murky ceiling. He closed his eyes, heart galloping still, breath flowing in and out as he waited for a reply.
“Hnh?” Niko grunted out as he woke, eyes blinking open to see his room dimly illuminated with sunlight that stubbornly permeated the blinds. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing, disoriented as consciousness flirted with him, but he knew it was somehow important.
Then it came back to him. Sober clarity flooded in quickly, as though he’d been plunged into ice water. He craned his neck to look at the hologram which still hung in the air, ephemeral, from hours before.
10:18 in the morning. There was a single reply from Kestrel, delivered hours after Niko’s last message.
I will never stop. So stop wasting your time trying.
Unfortunately, Niko had never been very good at giving up either.
He called again, clearing the hoarseness of sleep from his throat. Just as before, the call rang through unanswered. He tried again, then a third time, with no response.
Okay, he thought. The old-fashioned way it is.
He opened a new web search to try and locate Jande’s residence. As expected, the painter kept his address out of the public eye. It would be easy to ask Zann or anyone at Galapol, and in the past he would have done just that. Jande’s address would be over to him in minutes. But that would start to raise questions, and those were something Niko still wasn’t ready to face yet. So he would have to work for it.
He switched over to the dark web, a process that took time and care, but was one he’d grown familiar with over his years as a hunter. After half an hour, trawling it yielded up what seemed to be coordinates—rather than an address—for something that was half home, half compound on Valaevanas, the oceanic homeworld of Loolae and the Xermotl people. He tested it against several other sources and maps, and it appeared to be reliable information. He had a location now. If Kestrel was going for Jande Seiiren today, this is where he’d be.
The idea of going to Valaevanas made Niko’s stomach ache. It was an oceanic world in the truest sense, with only two percent of its surface comprised of land—jagged, tiny islands which were rocky, barren, and frequently eaten away by salt.
To add to the pleasant nature of the planet, due to the lack of shore to break up the constant, churning ocean, frequent rainstorms and swelling, monstrous tidal waves made the surface of Valaevanas a particular horror for anyone who didn’t possess a set of gills.
Niko had poured obscene amounts of money over the years into modding the So?adora though, something he was silently thankful for now. Its feet were equipped with heavy anchor weights and solid clamps for inclement weather and uneven land. Even the wild, endless ocean of Valaevanas wouldn’t make it budge once he’d grounded it.
Niko himself on the other hand might be a different story.
This is going to be fun, he thought. Kestrel really was out of his mind—just in a completely different way than his files had suggested.
He dragged himself out of bed, every movement making his abused body ache in protest. The paltry few hours of sleep he’d snagged barely made a difference, his thoughts cloudy and sluggish. Niko couldn’t afford to be anything but at his sharpest and best when he made it to Valaevanas—Kestrel would undoubtedly be. And if Niko had any chance of convincing him to reconsider things, he had to match the other man.
A cold shower, omelet, and two energy drinks later, and Niko felt as ready as he was ever going to be for whatever lay ahead on Valaevanas.
Niko landed the So?adora on the flattest patch of rock he could find, trying to keep a good distance from the compound. The last thing he wanted to do was immediately announce his presence and create hysteria. He wanted to reach Kestrel before he embarked on his kill, and reason with him. Maybe they could avoid the entire thing together—it never hurt to be optimistic.
He’d seen countless photos, videos, and films of Valaevanas as it was miles below its churning surface. It held an exotic, incredible beauty, its animals and citizens existing in the weightless, gliding splendor that only water could bring. Their cities were built of great, bulbous glass structures, with many city sections kept sealed and supplied with oxygen for tourists and visitors who only breathed air.
The surface of Valaevanas was something entirely different. Waves thrashed and assaulted him as he climbed down out of the ship, a heavy lavender cloud cover pelting him relentlessly with horizontal rains and strong winds. The rocks on which he stepped were jagged, slippery, and porous. Why the hell Jande Seiiren thought this was the special place for his forever home was an enigma to Niko. The man was a Heenva and would drown just as easily as Niko could.
His compound-slash-home was deeply isolated though, and if he’d wanted to embark on less than legal deeds that involved trafficking or slavery, this would probably be the place to do it. The whole thing made Niko sick to think about.
He made his way along the rocks, careful not to slip. His suit was heavy and he would sink instantly in it—and had no illusions he could swim the intense, churning tide without it. Especially when he could only rely on his arms.
He spotted Kestrel in the distance, his heart leaping in a strange fusion of relief and anxiety. Kestrel wasn’t using his stealth tech yet; Niko had likely arrived at the same time he had. He was standing at the edge of an observation deck, eyeing the compound’s door. The rain pelted him as well, his usually wild hair hanging in limp waves around his face.
Niko made his way over.
Kestrel turned to look at him. There was something new to the other man’s gaze Niko had never seen before—a deep seated fear. He looked rattled, eyes a little too wide, corners of his mouth drawn taut, his features awash in the lavender light of the ocean planet, sea and salt and rain soaking him. He looked, for the first time, afraid of Niko. “We have to stop meeting this way,” Niko said, aiming for a bit of levity.
“Shut up,” Kestrel said tightly.
“Elliott,” Niko began, taking a small step towards him. “Listen. I need you to listen right now. You can’t do this anymore. I can’t let you hurt or kill anybody else. I have close connections in Galapol. If I tell them to look into this, they will.
“This isn’t the right way. And it’s a path to self-destruction. Eventually, it’s going to all catch up to you. Galapol or another hunter will get you. It’s a matter of when, not if. Your bounty skyrockets with every kill. They won’t be kind to you.”
“And your ‘connections in Galapol’ will? You think I should surrender? Turn myself in?”
“No. I can help with that. I can find a way to get you a new ID and—”
“I don’t care about what happens to me. I accepted that outcome the day I started. I don’t have anything else left to live for except this. Nothing else matters. And I won’t stop until every fucking animal in Honeybliss is gone. They won’t take anyone else’s family away.”
The last line made Niko’s head swim. He could have said it himself, a handful of years ago. Maybe at some point he had.
We”re more alike than you think, Kestrel had said.
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Niko was pleading now. “We can find another way. This is just… unchecked vigilantism.”
“I’ve already tried everything you’ve suggested, Niko. I told you. It’s all a dead end. I won’t let anyone stand in my way now. Not even you,” Kestrel said, the words coming sharper. More bitter. Niko’s heart ached in his chest. Despite everything. Despite everything. He took another cautious, slow step closer.
“Elliott, I can’t let you.”
Kestrel looked at him coldly, gaze closed off and hard, intense and intelligent and focused all on Niko. A dangerous wall was rising, not unlike the tidal waves building around them. “Are you saying you’re going to try to stop me? After everything I showed you?”
“I have to.”
Kestrel sprung on him. It wasn’t the stratagem of a sharp tactician. This was sloppy and emotional. It was personal. Niko had betrayed him.
Kestrel shoved into him hard, aiming punch after punch towards Niko’s exposed face, his neck, the vulnerable joints between his armor plates. Sometimes he even struck the plates anyway, his hands coming back bloodied. The wounds he was inflicting onto himself didn’t even slow the onslaught he gave. This was genuine rage. And hurt, unlike Niko had seen from him so far.
“Please, just fucking listen to me!” Niko struggled to get him under control, to overpower him. He struggled against the other man’s lithe strength, even in his armor. He didn’t want to hurt Kestrel any more than he needed to, trying to simply overpower him, let him wear himself out. Kestrel kneed him hard in the crotch, something that Niko felt an echo of, even clad in the suit. He grunted and shook Kestrel roughly by the shoulders. It was hard to keep a grip on him in the unforgiving, horizontal rain. Kestrel slipped free and elbowed Niko in the face, sending him staggering back.
“No,” Kestrel snarled, the vitriol in his voice thick and caustic. “You listen to me. You saw everything and you’re still trying to stop me. You think I didn’t want you to watch it there because I couldn’t handle seeing it? Please. I’ve seen it all so many fucking times I have it memorized. I could recite you every plea, word for word. I just didn’t want to watch yet another asshole figure it all out and then just turn away. I can’t handle it anymore.”
Niko held his face where he’d been struck. It was going to leave a bruise. “I’m not turning away from this, Elliott.” I’m not turning away from you, he’d wanted to say. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Help me? You’re not even listening to me. All you’re doing is getting in my way. It’s all you’ve ever done.”
Those last words grated under his skin like gravel. Irritation flared up through Niko, white-hot. “I’m getting in your way? I could have brought you down ten times over. That’s my fucking job. But instead, I’ve stopped to actually listen to you. Don’t give me that condescending prick bullshit. It’s getting old.”
It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. Niko was losing his grip on the situation quickly, slipping to exhaustion and emotion. He wished he could take it back, that he hadn’t turned this into a petty insult match. It wasn’t why he’d come all the way out here. “Elliott, I—”
“I should have killed you back on Vhesa,” the other man seethed.
“That isn’t you and you know it, Elliott. Don’t do this.” Niko said it without thinking. He paused, wondering when he’d come to apparently know and understand Kestrel so intimately.
Kestrel seemed to have the same thought, also pausing before his expression twisted into an even deeper rage. Niko had definitely fucked up. Again.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know that you’re not actually a bad person. I know that, outside of Honeybliss, you’re not a killer. You spared civilians, officers. Other hunters, even. I saw how repulsed you were when Bubblegum caused civilian casualties.”
“Bubblegum?”
“The, uh, the pink haired—”
“Ah.” Kestrel’s tone grew flat at the memory. “Right.”
“My point is—” A bullet ricocheted sharply off the chestplate of Niko’s suit, just below his neck. Mere inches higher and it would have taken off half of his face. For a brief second, he and Kestrel stood, stunned, staring wide-eyed in the direction of its source.
Then hunters’ instinct kicked in and Niko pulled Kestrel to the ground with him, trying to shield the other man with his own armored body. He unlatched his rifle. Jande Seiiren stood in the entrance of his compound, pistol in hand and something that glinted silver clutched in the other. He wore nothing but a loosely tied silk robe and swayed slightly on his feet, branching antennae glowing a dull blue, expression sour and determined as rain pelted him.
“You hit the wrong person, you stupid bastard,” Kestrel shouted. Niko heard the telltale sound of his stealth tech switching on.
“I’m ready for you,” Jande slurred. He sounded drunk. If a masterful assassin were out specifically for Niko’s head, he might help himself to a few drinks too. “I’ll be damned if I let you take me too.”
“You should have thought of that before you started keeping sex slaves,” Kestrel retorted. Jande fired twice more on them, sloppy shots that both missed.
A sharp, blaring siren cut through the air, the entire observation deck flooded now in red light. Niko glanced up to see a bright crimson hologram hovering above the western railing.
WARNING: TIDAL WAVE IMMINENT
RETREAT TO SAFETY
“Oh shit,” he muttered.
“I got a special present for you,” Jande drawled as he slipped around the doorframe and out of sight.
“And it’s not even my birthday,” Kestrel said. “I hope it’s not one of those drunken paintbrush convulsions you call art.”
“Nope. Something even better.”
Kestrel’s tone darkened to a low purr. “Or maybe it’s your head on a platter? Because I would find that gift very, very touching. You’re going to die today, Jande.”
Jande fell back on his native Sala Heenvan dialect. “Piece of shit dick-fisting fuck-sandwich.”
Kestrel seemed to always bring out the best in people.
“I’m impressed,” he said. Niko was surprised he apparently knew Sala Heenvan too. “That was creative. But you’re still going to die. Are you afraid?”
“Fuck off, murder-cunt. I’m gonna make you regret ever coming here,” Jande slurred, still hiding around the doorframe. Niko knew he was trying to work up courage of some kind.
“Elliott…” he started warily.
“Why don’t you come out here and give me my present, then? I don’t think I can handle the anticipation much longer,” Kestrel said.
A second later, a small silver grenade clinked against the floor beside them.
“Oh shit!” Niko said, more enthusiastically this time. He scrambled to get away but the thing went off beside him. There was no violent explosion—rather, a controlled electromagnetic pulse erupted outward from it in a shockwave, knocking Kestrel right back out of stealth. Niko wasn’t the only one catching on, it seemed, to his tricks.
He was crouched beside Niko, sniper rifle trained on the door. Niko saw his banter with Jande for what it was now—buying himself time to line up the perfect, single shot.
The sudden exposure forced Kestrel’s hand. He fired quickly and missed, the bullet ricocheting off the doorframe, not even leaving a mark. Whatever material the compound walls were made of, they definitely weren’t concrete.
Jande disappeared inside, and Kestrel sprang up after him, sprinting hard across the deck as the thick doors slid closed.
“No, Elliott—” Niko tried to stand and follow, but his blood turned to ice as a deadly realization occurred to him.
He couldn’t move his legs.
The EMP had knocked his suit’s neurotech out.
“Elliott—? Elliott, I can’t—”
Kestrel was already gone, pressing into the compound after Jande. Niko’s throat squeezed shut in fear as he frantically willed his legs in vain to carry him to safety. Kestrel had no way of knowing he couldn’t follow. He couldn’t help Niko now—if he would even want to.
The alarm sounded again and the hologram changed.
WARNING: TIDAL WAVE ARRIVAL
RETREAT TO SAFETY
He focused his gaze beyond the hologram, out into the western ocean. He could see it now on the horizon: a gargantuan, unfathomable wall of sea.
He needed to move. Now.
Niko glanced at the compound door. It wasn’t a viable option; the thing was thick and solid, meant to protect from the relentlessly battering waves. And Jande had probably sealed it shut behind them. The only option was his ship. He looked towards it now. It was far. Too far. But if he started now, he could possibly make it.
Knew this was going to be fun. He swallowed, trying to steady himself, and reached out with trembling hands to pull his weight across the observation deck. He would have to crawl the distance—he had no other choice now. If he stopped for even a second, he’d be swept into the depths of an endless sea he had no hopes of swimming in.
Niko dragged himself along, an arm’s reach at a time. He forced any other thoughts from his mind. There was only the next pull of his bodyweight ahead of him. And then the next. His ship grew slowly larger in view. Too slowly. He needed to pick up the pace if he had any hopes of making it. His lungs burned as he drank in ragged breaths. His arms screamed out a plea of exhaustion, every muscle aching. The wind and rain battered him; from the ground, constant splashes of sea nearly choked him.
He made it off the deck and onto the jagged, natural stone ground. It was a new challenge, one that made his life harder and easier all at once. He was grateful for the protection of the suit. Without it, he would undoubtedly have torn himself to shreds on the unforgiving rocks. But their tiny holes and spires made for spots to grip, and he found himself making quicker progress than he had on the flat, slick surface of the deck.
Niko told himself not to. But he looked anyway. His heart leapt at the sight of the great wave, half the distance already closed. It bared down on him now. Even the first sight of it from the horizon hadn’t been able to suggest the sheer size of the thing. He had to go faster.
Niko pulled himself along the rocks, ignoring the constant spray and splash of saltwater in his face, ignoring the pain and the way the jagged stone drove between the plates of his suit. His chest ached—he wasn’t getting enough air to keep up with the exertion. But he pushed himself anyway, pulling, then pulling again, long past the point of exhaustion.
The ship got closer with each drag of his body, until he finally reached the front anchored leg. He used it to haul himself towards the door, sitting up and tearing off his glove to activate the biometric lock. It took several tries, each one grinding a searing, wild anxiety deeper into him. He finally reached high enough to satisfy the scanner, and the door opened, extending its ramp down to him.
“Thank fuck,” he panted, lungs too deprived to push out more than a whisper. He pulled himself up the ramp and reached back to slam his palm against the door panel. It quietly slid closed and sealed behind him. Niko slumped against the wall, resting the back of his head against it. He closed his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.
When he opened them again, he realized he could see the wave through the ship’s tiny windshield. There was no sky, there was no horizon. All he could see now was a wall of blue. It was humbling.
Something knocked against the door. He froze. Kestrel?
It knocked again, this time the obvious pattern of a hand pounding frantically against the metal.
“Ell—”
His external camera activated, a live holofeed of someone standing outside the ship, anxiously glancing around and rocking from one foot to the other.
Giannis Alexopoulos.
Niko was speechless. He hadn’t expected him here, but it made sense now. Giannis had been publicly open about his close friendship with Seiiren, both men influential in the art community.
Giannis pounded on the door again, desperate.
“Hey!” he called. “Please let me in. I need out of this place. You—you’re a bounty hunter, right? He’s here. The—the Kestrel. He’s killing people. I need to get away from here. And the wave is coming. Please.”
Niko froze, staring at the hologram. Images flashed through his mind of Giannis. He had a particular sadism, and the depraved pleasures he’d enacted on his weeping, devastated victims would be seared into Niko forever.
Every one of those people would never go home. Every one of their families were broken forever after. Niko couldn’t unsee it.
Maybe.
Maybe Kestrel was right.
“Hello? Please? I saw your door closing earlier. I know someone’s in there. You’re a hunter, right? I’m just a civilian. I don’t want to die here. The—the wave is really close.” Giannis pounded against the door again.
Niko swallowed. Every muscle of his body was frozen. He could save this man’s life—with a simple press of the door panel, he could let him in and close it again before the wave crashed down. He could even bring him to Zann, bring him in as a criminal to be processed. After all, he had the hard data proving Giannis’s guilt.
But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want the man on his ship. He didn’t want to open the door for him. Maybe it would be easier to let the wave wipe him from the galaxy, just as he’d erased the remains of the poor souls he’d ruined.
“H-hello? I have money. Lots. I can pay you. I’ll pay you all of it,” Giannis pleaded. His voice was escalating, his tone growing shriller with panic. He started to cry. “I’m—I don’t want to die.”
Funny, Niko thought. That’s the same thing somebody once said to you.
Niko said nothing.
Seconds later, the wave arrived, the water slamming into the ship like a wall, shaking and jostling it hard. The lights flickered and for a moment, all Niko could see through the thick windshield was a torrent of raging water, but the anchors and clamps held true. Giannis was gone in an instant. He watched it all on the holofeed as it flickered and glitched too. One minute the man was huddling into himself, wild with despair, and the next, he was simply gone, nothing but churning tide in his place.
I killed him, Niko thought. By not helping him, I killed him.
He expected guilt. He expected shame. But instead, all he felt was a mild disdain, buried under layers of numb exhaustion.
He sat in silence as the water slowly receded in the windshield and holofeed views until the ship was no longer submerged. Then he pulled himself to the wheelchair at the back of the ship and sat in it, still in the dead suit. He wheeled his way to the flight console, switching the engines on. There was nothing more to do here. If Giannis’s fearful depiction of Kestrel’s murderous exploits was to be believed, the assassin was doing just fine for himself.
If Kestrel’s ship had been washed away in the wave, Niko knew there were undoubtedly plenty of other options to choose from, probably sealed away in a parking garage. He withdrew the anchors, released the clamps, and navigated the ship into the air. There was nothing more he could do to help Kestrel here now.
And there was nothing more Niko could do to get in his way.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore.