Better Left Alone

Phoenix sat, back against the wall, wrapping a bandage around his wounded right arm. It'd only been a graze, but it had been enough to scare him shitless and out of the hangar. Not before he'd collected the M4A1s both guards had been carrying, and a pocketfull of clips. They didn't know where he was yet, he didn't think, but if they found him, he was going out with a bang.

It was all the stupid pig's fault, too. If he had taken the bribe, he'd be on his way to Earth and off the books about it. Instead, he had to pull some noble bullshit and try to apprehend him, so he ate a bullet, instead.

Then those three stupid fucking cops. As he gazed out the window of the vacant apartment, down onto one of the colony's lesser-travelled roads, he wondered if anyone would really see that their actions weren't bravery, but stupidity: the chief had already been dead.

He shrugged, continuing to absentmindedly wrap the wound. What would come would come, and if it wasn't sure as shit prepared, it'd suck a couple clips of lead.