Day Three: Afternoon

[Retane]

He marched on, his comrade in his arms. Everything seemed silent, as if mourning the loss of dear Tapion. Or perhaps the Island itself was scared to interupt Retane, fearing what might happen if they did so. There clearly was no telling as to what the namekian would do if he thought someone or something attempted to hinder his final journey with Tapion.

Retane looked down at the serene visage of the elvish warrior. Tap's eyes were closed and he had a faint smile upon his lips. The same lips that were no longer red, but turning a faint purple. As a matter of a fact, the cacajaun flesh was turning whiter with every passing second. A scowl crossed his visage and a pinge of sadness shot throughout his body. He watched on , and it was almost as if he could watch the remains of his life force fading, and fading fast.

The mercenary began to pick up his pace, only to watch Tapion's arm slip loose and watched the Konats backpack fall to the ground. The namekian nearly tripped over the sack, but caught himself, and turned on foot to look down. The Ki Shield layed there, along with two canteens of water and a few grenades. Retane looked from the items back to Tapion, and could almost swear the smile on his face had gotten bigger.

Laying his freind on the ground, he stood back up, observing the sprawled-out items. He was confused as to what he should do.

His thoughts were inturrupted by the sounds of the intercom. Karl was back to announce that it was Noon and the deaths. The moment was at hand, he would now have to face the facts. It was as if everything stopped, his heart, his breath, even life itself, as the host got to the deaths.

"Number fifteen, Dodoria." The fat bastard that had charged Retane, thinking his Nail Guns contents were food. And it was technically. The perfect food for vengance, the perfect appetizer right before the entree of death. Desert surely wouldn't be anything that the gluton would enjoy.

"Number twenty-one, Tapion." The Dark hunter looked back, at his comrade. He ignored the words and pretended that the Konat gave him a wink, as if to let him know it was a ploy and that he was setting up their next trap.

'Well, it happened you got to watch Tapion die!' Enroshia! The fucking swordsmen was somehow using his teletpathic influences to communicate with the namekian again.

'Now what will you do? Do you know?' There was a slight pause before Enro continued. 'Perhaps you should go on. Fight for your freind, or simply fight for yourself? Which one will our cold assassin do? I wonder? Tough choice huh? Live with the regret that you failed your freind, or turn your back on your memories of him?'

'Perhaps...perhaps you should join Tapion. Grab a grenade and pull the pin. Maybe that's what he would want his faithful companion to do?'

Retane looked to the grenades, resting on the ground and noticed one of the Konats hands seemed to be gesturing to it as it was pointed near it.
'How about it, Retane the Devious?'

"Fuck you." That's the only words he could offer Enro, and then there was silence again.

He moved over and picked up a grenade. Turning it around with one hand, he gave a confused sigh. Looking to the peaceful Konat, he pondered the elfs words. FInding resolve from the kind face of the elvish warrior, the mercenary placed the grenade on his belt. He looked back to the others and began to do so as well.

He made a promise to the Konat, and he was going to keep. Anyone that got in his way, would feel the wrath of the dangerous duo. Grenades, Nail Gun, Ki Sheild, And vengence.