Downtime in Naarajärvi [Complete]

Taavi bit his lip, a bit guarded, but not looking at her in any threatening manner. Eevi typically interacted in cool manner. There was usually a charm behind her behavior, but she was always composed, even when darker elements of her personality were clear to him. Taavi was supposed to be good at reading people, but Eevi's confused rambling threw him for a loop. Something about him laying down the law with her over Astrid bugged her.

Perhaps it was precisely because he was the one who said it. He - another Winter War survivor - was the one who told her off.

"Eevi..." Taavi trailed, looking her in the eye with a bizarre mix of understanding and confusion. "I get why you're confused about all this, what with you drifting around with no connection for so long. And who could blame you? There seemed little commonality between you and others. I was the same way, being a military veteran - I could only connect with other veterans for so long. And then, you find out that you have a contemporary who's been around this whole time and went through the same war. There's been no one else in your life that fits that description. I-...here..."

Closing the door briefly, Taavi undid the chain securing the door to the frame before opening it back up, a light tap on Eevi's shoulder inviting her in.

"Here, come in," he said.

There was very little in furnishing, but a few things could end up catching eyes. A wedding photo dated March 9, 1958 showing Taavi with a stunning brunette woman, was on a small end table. Next to that was himself and the same woman with a newborn baby, and next to that was Taavi - with cropped military-regulation hair length - and a young boy sitting by the seaside fishing. That was dated in April 5th, 1967. But there was a lack of any more photos outside of a few military mementos, suggesting something happened that those people weren't with him now.

The biggest giveaway was the fact that two wedding bands were in front of the wedding photo - neither was being worn by Taavi.

As Eevi stepped inside, her gaze flickered around Taavi’s sparse apartment, taking in the few personal items scattered about. The wedding photo caught her attention first, followed by the other snapshots of his life—glimpses of a man who had once had a family, a life beyond the mercenary work and survival that now defined them both. The images were a stark contrast to the man she knew now. She felt a twinge of discomfort, like she was intruding on something private, something that hadn’t been touched by the cold detachment she usually felt.

"Nice place," she muttered, her eyes lingering on the photos. The words felt hollow, just something to fill the silence, but they didn’t match the whirlwind in her head.

She was always so composed, so sure of herself, even when she wasn’t. But now, standing in his living room, surrounded by memories of a past life that clearly no longer existed, she felt...unmoored. It wasn’t like her. She hated that it wasn’t like her.

"Look, I don’t do this," she began, forcing herself to speak. "I don’t...apologize. I don’t admit when something gets to me. I don’t care what people think, usually. But you..." She trailed off, her eyes meeting his briefly before she looked away again, her frustration mounting. "What you said, it hit me. It made me feel...I don’t know, like maybe you’re right. And I hate that. I hate that you're making me question myself."

She took a shaky breath, gripping her crutches a little tighter as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. "I’m not used to this, Taavi. I’m not used to caring about what someone thinks of me. But you? You’re different. You’re not just another merc, or another soldier. You’re...I don’t know, you’re like me. And that makes this whole thing messier than I want it to be."

There was a vulnerability in her voice that she hadn’t meant to let slip out, a crack in the armor she’d built around herself. She couldn’t understand why it mattered so much, why he mattered so much. It wasn’t just about Astrid. It wasn’t even about their shared history. It was something deeper, something that scared her more than she was willing to admit.

"I guess what I’m trying to say is...I don’t want this to mess things up between us, nor do I want to outright reject this chance you've given me. At the least it will be a fun memory." She finished, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. "I don’t want to lose the one person who actually...gets it. Not after so long alone. And I hate that vulnerability. I hate that it makes me weak. I hate that I am STILL weak."

"You're not home-wrecking," Taavi commented as Eevi looked over the pictures. "It's been nearly six decades since I lost those two."

As he sat and listened to Eevi, a sense of understanding into her mindset clicked in place. Words...Taavi wasn't good with them. He wasn't a diplomat, not a negotiator, and not a therapist. He lacked the eloquence needed to truly talk beyond the base level, and was more of an artist with a rifle than with words. He regarded every bit of Eevi's posture with a practiced eye. He hated that he could read her, but the words escaped him.

"If I had never questioned myself, we would never have met, Eevi," he said finally. "I'd have eaten a twelve gauge to the brain after those two were taken from my life, with my finger having pulled the trigger. The Vietnam veteran I brought up when we first met. He was barely keeping it together. I saw what I was becoming - hanging on by a thread. And it got me to question my mindset. I...questioning yourself teaches you who you are, Eevi. And from that, you begin thinking about whether who you are is who you want to - or ought to - be. And questioning yourself doesn't make you weak...it just makes you human."

He moved aside to give Eevi space on the couch. There was a heat in his chest, and a hunger he hadn't felt for so long. How tempting it was...to take advantage of her vulnerability. To give in to the dark feeling that longed for contact at any cost. But he imagined Elizabeth's disapproving gaze if he followed such a temptation - that mental image was more than enough to crush that temptation down.

"There's no reason to hate yourself for being able to feel," Taavi said. "It doesn't make you weak - it just reminds you that you're alive. That you're more than surviving. You're living - but we can't really live until we've endured hurt. That kind of pain - it can be a either a destroyer of the self, or it can be a foundation for someone new. Or both. It depends on when - and to who - you open yourself up to."

"Listen...if it gives you a sense of peace, you can crash here on the couch," Taavi said, chuckling a bit when Helgi joined him on the felt-covered cushion. "I know Helgi would love the added company. I'll stick around for the night, but...I'm not going to try anything. You're injured, you're hurting, and you're still trying to make sense of what you're feeling. I know, as a mercenary, that I've done some pretty distasteful stuff - but, I'd have to be the biggest asshole in the world to take advantage of that kind vulnerability. If you want to head back to your room, I understand. But, I don't hate you for how you acted."

Eevi stood quietly, her gaze lingering on the photos a moment longer before she slowly turned to Taavi, his words sinking in deeper than she had expected. The weight of his experiences, the loss of his family, and his ability to keep going despite everything—it resonated with her in a way that both comforted and unsettled her. She wasn’t used to such honesty, such rawness from someone like him, someone she had come to see as stoic and unyielding. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable.

"You... don’t hate me?" Eevi asked, her voice soft, almost as if she didn’t believe him. "After everything I’ve done? I’ve caused trouble, I’ve lashed out... and then there’s Astrid... you’d still offer this to me?"

She shifted on her crutches, biting her lip, her usual cool composure cracking just a bit more. Taavi’s offer of the couch was unexpected, and while her first instinct was to reject it—to retreat back into her shell—there was a part of her that didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. The idea of staying, even just for a night, where she wouldn’t have to keep fighting her thoughts... it was tempting.

"I don’t know why I came here, Taavi," she admitted, her tone still unsure but more vulnerable than before. "I’ve been so damn angry. With myself. With everything. You just... I don’t know, you got to me. You shouldn’t have, but you did."

Her eyes flicked toward Helgi, who was now curled up next to Taavi, purring softly, blissfully unaware of the tension hanging in the air. She could hear Taavi’s words again in her mind, echoing louder now: You’re more than surviving. You’re living.

But was she? Or was she just going through the motions, keeping herself busy with contracts and violence, with no real end goal in mind?

"Maybe..." she started, hesitating before sitting down carefully on the couch offered by Taavi, resting her crutches beside her. "Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer, just for tonight."

There was no warmth in her words, but there was no coldness either—just the raw honesty of someone trying to figure out why they were still here, still fighting.

"I just... I don’t want to think for a bit," she murmured, her head resting back against the couch. "It’s... too much. All of it."

As she spoke, her eyes closed, the exhaustion in her body finally catching up. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t trying to analyze, wasn’t trying to calculate the next move. She didn't worry about sleeping around someone else or being vulnerable while she slept. Instead Eevi allowed herself to rest for the first time in a long time. She was just letting herself exist, if only for a few hours, in the quiet of Taavi’s small apartment. By the time she fell asleep, a peaceful, tranquil look formed on her resting face, and a small smile had crept onto her mouth.

Taavi watched as the tension settled from Eevi, playing the tune he was earlier just a bit quieter to aid the relaxation. By the time she fell asleep, he quieted his playing before stopping altogether. The small smile on Eevi's face told him that - even if it was only for the moment - she was content. Quietly setting the guitar on a stand, he got a spare coat from the closet and draped it on Eevi's sleeping form.

He'd made her feel that way. When was the last time he was the source of someone else's contentment? It felt way too long. When Taavi had first arrived and started working for Naarajärvi, he and Ilona had a few months of emotion and romanticism between the two of them. But she was only human, and (as far as he had known at the time) he was an artificial Meta that could not age, which would have doomed him to outliving her. Now that he knew that his death was approaching, he was glad that they amicably ended their relationship before they took the next step.

He wasn't keen on leaving behind a widow in the next few years. But the revelation that his death was coming gave him plenty of reason to reflect back on his life. The seconds he had wasted merely surviving to the next day and rejecting connections. The few precious memories with Elizabeth and Isiah he had formed when he wasn't at Fort Polk. The realization that - for completely temporal and short-lived humans - living was more than just surviving.

"Survive to the next day" were the magic words. They were always the magic words that he repeated to himself over and over again after the Lapland War. He told himself that hoping that something would come by to give him hope. But that magic never worked - all it left was regret for opportunities he lost because he was too afraid to try. There was an emptiness to surviving out of obligation alone.

There were scarier things than death. Marcus Aurelius wrote it best: "It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live."

Finding meaning beyond simple survival was necessary for a healthy mind to exist. At the end, that was the true function of a human being: to live. Not merely to exist. Maybe Taavi could find a way to push back his inevitable end. But if not, he was just going to have to make every second in this town - and every second he shared with Eevi - count for something.

All of this was processed by his mind as he fell asleep on the second couch. It was no longer his lesson to learn - it was Eevi's...

He got up early the following day, brewing himself some tea and leaving the kettle on the warm setting for whenever Eevi got up. As he looked through his contracts, his landline began to ring. He was right on top of it so as not to wake Eevi up with too much noise.

"Yeah?" Taavi asked.

"Taavi, we have something. Lookout is saying that someone is approaching town from the west side," Ilona said, before adding, "and they're armed".

"I'm on it," he said and hanging up the phone with no further answer. He simply got dressed, retrieved a few weapons from his gun safe, and left the apartment to deal with someone who could end up being a threat.

As Eevi slowly woke up, the first thing that caught her attention was the coat draped over her. She smiled softly, feeling the lingering warmth of Taavi’s gesture. For someone who usually kept a certain distance from others, the small act of kindness left an unexpected but welcome warmth in her chest. She wrapped the coat around herself as if holding onto the fleeting moment of peace that had come with it.

Rising from the couch, her body still adjusting to the crutches, she moved quietly around the apartment, taking in her surroundings with more curiosity than she had before. There was no rummaging, no prying—just a quiet observation of the life Taavi had built for himself. The family photos, some faded with time, caught her eye. She stood still, gazing at the images of his lost wife and son, wondering what kind of man Taavi had been back then, before the wars and mercenary work had taken their toll.

The military accolades were lined up neatly, an obvious reminder of the battles he had fought, both physical and mental. She lingered on a few of the photos with his fellow soldiers, noting the difference in his expression back then. Though stoic, there was something more... alive in his eyes. He had been part of something larger, something that gave him purpose.

Her gaze wandered next to the bookshelf. The titles piqued her interest: "Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius, the Kalevala, and the Eddas—a mix of philosophy, mythology, and economics. It made sense. Taavi was a man who had experienced the rawest edges of human nature, but he seemed to have sought answers in the written word, in understanding the deeper aspects of life. She gently ran her fingers across the spines, appreciating the weight of knowledge they held.

His apartment was sparse, functional, much like her own approach to life. Everything had a purpose, and there was little room for unnecessary comforts. Yet, despite the utilitarian nature of the space, there were these small personal touches—like the photos—that reminded her of the humanity that still lingered within him.

As she looked around, Eevi felt a pang of guilt. She had judged him too harshly, perhaps, for pushing back against her anger with Astrid. It wasn't about control or dominance with Taavi—he simply wanted to see her thrive in this world that had tried so hard to break them both. He wasn’t trying to contain her; he was offering her a lifeline, whether she wanted it or not.

Her eyes fell on a few journals that were tucked neatly away. Old and worn, they were undoubtedly personal records from a time before she had met him. Though curious, she didn't feel the need to intrude. Eevi had enough respect for Taavi to leave those pieces of his past untouched.

Instead, she settled back on the couch, pulling the coat a little tighter around herself. She felt something stirring inside her—a strange mixture of gratitude and confusion. There was something about him, something grounding, that made her feel... different. Less alone.

Perhaps, she thought to herself, they weren’t so different after all.

As the warmth from Taavi’s coat settled over her, Eevi allowed herself a moment to rest, her mind still wandering. She had come to his apartment to confront the turmoil inside her, to figure out why his words had gotten under her skin. But now, as she sat there in his space, she realized that perhaps it wasn’t about the words. Maybe it was about the man who had spoken them.

And for the first time in a long while, Eevi felt something beyond the cold detachment that had ruled her life for so long. It wasn’t love or even affection—it was more complicated than that. But it was a start. And she had no idea to deal with that feeling. "Fuck."

As Taavi reached the west side of town, he saw the last thing he would expect in an arctic condition: a man dressed like someone out of a Western film. He was clad in a full leather number with a blue bandana, topped off with cowboy hat. He had a Single Action Army in an open holster. It was a miracle he wasn't freezing to death in that thing, though a second look told Taavi that the long-coat was wool-lined.

Having toured around the United States for so long, Taavi knew a Texan accent when he heard it.

"Mighty quiet town ya got here," the stranger said. "Would be a shame to shoot it up."

"What do you want, stranger?" Taavi asked in English. His accent was native to Finland, but he lived a long time in Maine - his accent was naturalized into a bizarre mix of a Finnish and Mainer. "We have nothing you'd be interested in."

"Ya sure 'bout that?" the stranger asked. "Ya see. I've lived a long life; well back before anyone was here was a twinkle in their papas' eyes. I've brought in a lot of scum in, dead or alive. I've never failed to bring one in...until the 1980s. A firebrand blonde nymph. Sprung herself loose before she could be gagged and booked. I'm here to correct that black mark on my reputation. And I have it on good authority that she's in this town."

"They call me 'Quickdraw'," the stranger said, a chill passing through the bodies of everyone who heard the alias. David Crenshaw, AKA "Quickdraw", was a bounty hunter who had been active since the 1880s. A regenerator who also seemed unable to age, rumors of him drawing his weapon faster than any eye could track reached even Eastern Europe.

"Dead or alive, I'm here for Eevi Väinölä," he pressed. "Hear me, Goldilocks!? Come on out!"

“Of course...” Eevi muttered under her breath as she rose once again from Taavi's couch, her muscles stiff and screaming in protest, the remnants of sleep quickly fading as reality set in. The voice outside, the name that rattled her mind—Quickdraw. The past she thought she’d buried had finally clawed its way to the surface, and now it stood waiting just outside, mocking her from the shadows.

“No. Not now. Not like this.” The hauntings of her past had come knocking at her door.

“Of all the fucking people… Crenshaw.” The name hissed through her teeth as the anger surged, boiling up from deep within her chest. Quickdraw, the one who’d almost ruined her back then, was back to finish the job. She knew he had always been persistent, but now of all times? When her defenses were already worn thin? A part of her almost admired his determination—almost.

But no. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. This wasn’t just about hiding.

A slow, bitter laugh escaped her lips as she gathered herself, pushing aside the coat Taavi had draped over her the night before. “I’m right here, cowboy…” she muttered darkly and began standing up, her legs protesting the weight.

She glanced at her crutches, a moment of hesitation flickering through her, but then, with a grim resolve, she pushed them aside. Not this time. This wasn’t a fight she could face with any sort of assistance, not even from herself. If she was going to face David Crenshaw—Quickdraw—she needed to do it on her own two feet, no matter the pain. She wouldn’t allow herself to show weakness, not now.

Grinding her teeth together, Eevi stood, her body protesting every movement. Her legs trembled slightly, the pain sharp and immediate, but she forced herself to stand tall, to straighten her back. Every step would be agony, but it didn’t matter. He was here, and she wasn’t going to let him take this from her. Not her strength. Not her pride. Not again.

Every step toward the door was deliberate, careful, but her pulse quickened with every movement. “Come to finish what you started, huh?” she whispered to herself. The one who had to be outside right now was her, not Taavi. She didn’t want him in this fight. It was personal.

Her mind raced as she ran through the endless possibilities of what could happen next. She knew she wasn’t fully ready—still healing, still weakened—but Quickdraw had made one mistake by announcing his presence. Now, she had the element of surprise on her side. Even if her body wasn’t ready, her mind was sharp. And if there was one thing she had learned, it was how to fight with every ounce of who she was, no matter the odds.

But then she hesitated. A flash of doubt rippled through her.

“Do I…run?” She whispered the question as her hands gripped tightly into fists. Running wasn’t her style. But she had promised herself not to die in some cold backwater town. And Taavi… Damn it, Taavi. Why did he have to involve himself here?

But running meant leaving Taavi behind.

“I’m right here, cowboy...” she whispered bitterly, the repetition now a reminder to herself, walking towards the door. Each step was a reminder of her body's limitations, but she wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of seeing her fall. Quickdraw had nearly ruined her once before—he wouldn’t get the chance to finish the job.

Opening the door, she stepped outside, the cold biting into her skin. Her eyes scanned the street where Taavi had already gone to meet Crenshaw, her mind replaying every moment she had with Taavi in Naarajärvi. She didn’t want him involved. This fight was hers.

But the pain. It was there, throbbing in her legs, her hips, every fiber of her being. It was constant, relentless, gnawing at her resolve, but it also served as a reminder of why she was still standing. She had survived worse. She was worse.

“You want me, Quickdraw?” she called out, her voice low but carrying. She took a step forward, her face a cold mask of determination. “Then come get me. But this time, you’ll have to take me down.”

With a deep breath, Eevi walked forward without hesitation, the pain a constant companion but no longer her enemy. She would meet this head-on, on her own two feet. No crutches. No assistance. Only herself.

Always had been.

Eevi pushed through the pain as she moved forward, gritting her teeth with every step. No crutches. No assistance. She couldn't afford to show weakness now, not in front of a relic from her past like Quickdraw. The cowboy bounty hunter wanted to drag her back into the nightmare she'd escaped all those years ago, but she had no intention of being anyone's prey ever again.

Her hands flexed as the familiar weight of the ink inside her cartridge tattoos pulsed beneath her skin, her fingers already forming the shape of a pistol as she walked. She reached the clearing, eyes narrowing as they locked onto Quickdraw’s leather-clad figure. His cocky stance, that arrogant smirk—he hadn't changed. And if he expected her to be the same girl who once ran from him, he was sorely mistaken.

"You’ve come a long way for nothing, Crenshaw," she called out, her voice steady despite the searing ache in her legs. "You should’ve left that 'black mark' where it belongs—in the past."

Her hand twitched slightly as she aimed her finger pistol at him, her index finger mimicking the motion of resting on a trigger. "Click."

"This ain't about the bounty for me anymore, Inkwell," David Crenshaw looked in Eevi's direction. "If I wanted to retire, I'd have done it after the Second World War. Me...I do this shit for the love of the game."

David drew, but with a blur of motion that only David could pick up, Taavi drew his old service pistol: A 1911A1. He was also a blur as he came between the two at a speed just shy of the sound barrier. His pistol was pointed at him in a standoff.

"So, you're White Glint," David said. "Arisawa Heavy Industries is one of your main clients - several of its rivals have a standin' bounty on you. I think I can swallow my pride when you're the bigger payday."

That was when a few other townspeople also emerged from cover with their weapons. Astrid, of all people, sneaked up, holding her muzzle on David with an old WWII-era Sten submachine gun. Ingvar also had his old Mosin trained on David. Even Jens, Anton, and Katja were visible.

"Consider the following, Crenshaw," Taavi started. "Eevi is formally on contract with Naarajärvi. You kill her, you've got the rest of us to deal with. And I don't care how fast your reflexes are; with a town of nearly three hundred, most of us with some guns, one of us is bound to get a score on your head. And I don't think you can heal from that."

"What, you her boyfriend, or somethin'?"

Taavi's blush was hidden by the cold temperatures, and he didn't miss a beat as he said, "As long as we both work for Naarajärvi, we're comrades in arms. You hurt one of us, you mess with all of us."

"Harm the pup, and get mauled by the pack, huh? Well, well...seems we're at an impasse, then," David conceded. "However shall we resolve this?"

"You could walk away right now, but you're not going to turn down a chance at reputation, are you?" Taavi asked.

"Smart man," David said, before his eyes trailed between Eevi and Taavi. "Heh. You a gamblin' lot, you two? I'll set this down to a wager; always wanted to test my draw against White Glint's speed."

Eevi grimaced as the pain shot up her leg, forcing her to catch herself mid-step. Despite the burning in her muscles, she forced herself to stand upright, her gaze locked on David Crenshaw. The whole situation felt wrong—the town, the people she barely knew, all pointing their weapons at this relic from her past, a past she hadn’t yet paid her dues for.

“I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me,” she growled, her voice tight from the pain but sharp as ever. She cast a glance over at Astrid and the others, her irritation mounting. “Put your guns down. This isn’t your fight. I haven’t done a damn thing to earn your loyalty, or your protection. Don’t involve yourselves in what can be boiled down to an uncivil debate over the difference between a hired killer and a contracted killer.”

Her eyes darted to Taavi, standing solidly between her and QuickDraw. The sight of him made her heart twist in a way she couldn’t quite understand. He wasn’t just standing up for the town—he was standing up for her, and that...that grated against her core.

“Taavi, please,” she pleaded, her voice softening for him alone. “This is my fight. You know it, I know it. Step aside.”

She saw the hesitation in his stance, the tension in his shoulders. She hated that she had to ask this of him, but she couldn’t let him take on her burden. Not him. Not the man who had found a way to live when all she could do was survive.

"This isn’t about the town, your damn contracts or the survival of the community or any of that nonsense. It’s about me. My past. My business." Her voice cracked just slightly, the weight of it pressing on her. "I’ve gotta face it. Alone. So butt out."

Taavi’s grip on his gun was tight, and for a brief moment, Eevi feared he wouldn’t budge. But she kept her eyes on the back of his head, silently begging him to trust her, to understand that this was something she needed to do.

"Please, Taavi..." she whispered. This was between Inkwell and QuickDraw, not Eevi and David. Two bad people who did what they did for money, pleasures, or simply because they could. Neither of them cared very much, or could be made to for that matter, about the personal lives of the other right now. This was a matter of business and pride after all.

"Eevi..." Taavi trailed. "You're one of a team. I didn't pull you out of an undead nightmare, just to have you go down to a bullet. And in your state, he'd win before you could get the words out of your mouth. What's your wager, Quickdraw?

Taavi wasn't about to give up on Eevi. And it most likely occurred to Eevi that this is the exact scenario that Katja spoke of to her when she warned that Taavi was so devoted to bringing out that light within her shell that he would gamble his life for her own. It was either Eevi shoots Taavi in the back and risks the entire town's wrath, or she lets Taavi hammer out the details. Or David shot at either of them and risks the entire town raining lead on him - he might get two, maybe three, before everyone else scores a lucky headshot. And David likely knew this , which was why he was putting it down to a wager.

"My fast draw against your speed," David said. "One hour, half a kilometer outside town so no bystander gets hurt. I hit you, you come so I claim your bounty instead. You hit me, then..."

David shrugged with as he kept his gun trained on Eevi, who was behind Taavi. "Well, then fuck it; I'll walk away."

"Presuming you survive, that is," Taavi said.

"I always do," David said. "One hour, either you or her, and we settle this. Be there. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise?" Taavi prompted David to go on.

"Well, I hope you'll be content to sleep with your lights on all the time," David threatened. "The nights get real dark out here, after all."

Nothing but bad options. He gambled himself, Eevi, or the entire town protecting her. He trusted his own ability to escape if he was hit and survived - and fighting dirty would improve those odds. He didn't trust Eevi to get a word out before being shot. If the estimates were anything to go by, Taavi actually had the faster reflexes. In other words, the game was rigged in his favor, and he could rig it some more.

"One hour," Taavi stated. "Deal."

"Deal," David said. "Personally, I don't give a damn which of you two shows up. Doubt it's gonna be her. See, I know the tough girl routine when I see it - yer limpin'. As for you, White Glint - there's a fire in those eyes. Look forward to seein' if your rep holds up - but yer rep also suggests you don't got a conscience in that head of yours."

"I learn to switch it off when I need to," Taavi said. "Now step away, unless you want to go all-out right here."

In a flash, David drew his lever-action and kept one gun in Taavi and Eevi's direction, with the other sweeping the general direction of everyone else. Stepping back, the townspeople kept their guns trained on him until about two hundred meters' distance had been put between him. That's when Taavi signaled with a jerk of his head.

"Ingvar, get a sniper on him - make sure he doesn't try anything funny before it all goes down," Taavi ordered. "If he does, damn the duel; shoot him."

“Please don’t do this…” Eevi’s voice was tight, barely containing the fear and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She took a shaky breath, struggling to get the words out, her gaze locked on the ground in front of her.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to care.

“You don’t have to risk yourself for me. I…I haven’t earned this. I’m not worth it.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. She hated admitting weakness, especially now. But seeing Taavi willingly put his life on the line…it twisted something deep in her chest.

She tried to step forward again, her injured leg protesting with every movement, but she ignored it. Pain was nothing compared to the weight of guilt bearing down on her now. She forced herself to look up, to meet his eyes, even though she wanted to turn away.

“If you get killed—” she started again, her voice barely above a whisper, the reality of it hitting her harder than she’d expected. “This isn’t just about me…it’s about you. This place…”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she fought the urge to lash out, to push him away, to shut down these feelings she didn’t want to deal with. But instead, the words came tumbling out, unbidden, her voice breaking slightly.

“You can’t just die for me. Not for me. Anyone else here even that brat, but never me.” She shook her head, her brow furrowed in frustration, a sharp exhale escaping her lips. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Eevi grimaced as the blood continued to seep from her reopened wound. She felt the weight of her own stubbornness pressing down on her, the pain in her leg throbbing in rhythm with her racing heart. She wasn’t one to rely on anyone else, not after all she’d been through. But here, now, with everything spiraling out of control, she couldn’t help but feel the frustration boiling inside her.

"Of course..." she muttered, pressing her hand against the wound in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding. The sight of her own blood against the white snow was almost poetic in its cruelty. Her eyes flickered toward the others, her pride bruised as much as her body.

Standing there, with Taavi and the others trying to protect her, it felt like a mockery of everything she’d come to know. She wasn’t supposed to be protected. She wasn’t supposed to need it. But here she was, injured, vulnerable, and caught in the middle of a standoff she didn’t even want to be a part of.

She hated it. She hated the way it made her feel—like she wasn’t in control, like she was dependent on someone else for the first time in forever. The wound throbbed angrily, but she couldn’t let it stop her now. She wasn’t going to run. Not this time.

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she fought back the emotions swirling inside her. Everything hurt—physically, emotionally—but she wasn’t going to give in. She couldn’t.

Even as the blood dripped down her leg and her body screamed for her to stop, to rest, she stood her ground. She began to walk out of town. Trying to walk after QuickDraw.

Eevi cursed under her breath, her leg burning with every strained step she took. Quickdraw's smug words echoed in her mind, taunting her resolve. He didn't care who showed up—her or Taavi—but she damn well cared. The last thing she wanted was to let anyone fight her battles, let alone Taavi. Not when she had been dealing with her own survival for so long.

Gritting her teeth, she took another step, practically dragging her injured leg along. Blood continued to seep from the reopened wound, staining her pants and leaving a dark trail in the snow behind her. Every step was a reminder of her limits, but Eevi had long since learned to ignore pain. Pain was just a part of life—something to push through.

Her breaths came out in ragged gasps, the cold air biting at her skin. The more she moved, the more her vision swam, but stopping wasn't an option. She wouldn't be weak, wouldn't let someone else face a bullet for her. She refused to be that person.

"He doesn’t get to win," she muttered to herself, forcing her body to keep moving. The sharp stabs of pain shooting through her leg were almost unbearable, but her determination was stronger. She had survived worse.

She didn’t bother with crutches. They would have slowed her down, and time wasn’t a luxury she had. If she didn't get to the meeting point in time, Taavi would take her place. And that, to her, was unacceptable.

She limped through the streets, her hand pressed hard against her leg to slow the bleeding. Under her pant leg she felt the now damp bandage wrapping freezing in the boreal chill of the north around the bleeding wound. The town was quiet, no one in sight to question her resolve or ask her what she was doing. Good. She didn’t need the distraction.

"Come on..." she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the wind. Her body felt heavy, each step more grueling than the last, but she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t.

The clock in her head kept ticking, the hour creeping closer with every second. She could picture Taavi trying to stop her and braced herself for that confrontation, the townspeople watching from the sidelines, all thinking they had to protect her. It grated on her nerves—she didn’t need their pity, didn’t need their protection. What she needed was to prove that she was still in control, still capable of handling her own mess.

She forced herself to pick up the pace, dragging her foot as quickly as she could manage. Her mind raced with thoughts of the duel ahead, the inevitability of the standoff. She had one shot—literally. If she missed, it was over. But she wasn’t going to miss. Not after everything.

Her hand twitched, fingers instinctively forming the familiar shape of a finger pistol. She could feel the ink pulsing beneath her skin, ready to be used.

"Click," she whispered, even though she knew the time for action wasn’t here yet. It was a reminder—a promise to herself. She would make it. She would be there.

Dragging herself through the snow, Eevi’s body screamed for rest, for reprieve. But there would be no stopping. She was going to face Quickdraw, no matter what it cost her.

"Eevi, wait," Taavi protested as she began to go, even in her injured state. "This isn't about what you've earned; you're like family to us while you're here, and that means we share our burdens. Don't...don't let yourself die for pride; I've seen it kill too many."

Damn it. She couldn't see. It wasn't about her needing their help; it had everything to do with wanting to protect her. As she moved, Taavi got ready. He could beat the hour there with time to spare if he hurried. Getting into the garage, he settled into the distinctive white armor for which he was known. The power cycled as the HUD displayed over his eyes, his helmet concealing his face completely. The thrusters on his TYPE-HOGIRE hummed to life as he hovered briefly above the ground.

Eevi's fear for Taavi's safety was basically unfounded. The idea that she had any sense of fear at all was odd. Unusual - Taavi and only Taavi seemed to trigger any sense of fear. Eevi, who had a repressed or nonexistent conscience, suddenly found herself not wanting the idea that Taavi would die on said conscience. It completely broke anything that was in her psychological profile.

But as Taavi...no...as White Glint stepped out of that garage, he was determined to see Eevi through to the next day. Even if his armor had to take Quickdraw's bullet, he refused to let her die. He rigged the stakes as far as he could. As he rushed to flank from a concealed position, Taavi's heart traveled back to Elizabeth. When he first met her, it was like love at first sight.

She had been the bandage that stopped the bleeding from his heart. And when she died of grief, that mental bleed came again - to the point where every so often, he found himself staring down the barrel of his own pistol. Then, finding purpose in Naarajärvi put that proverbial bandage back onto his heart. And now that Eevi was stubbornly insisting to go off to certain death, that wound threatened to tear open again.

I'm the one who's on borrowed time. It has to be me; not her...

He overlooked the spot where the duel would take place. The white of his armor blended in with the snow near-perfectly.

I won't let you die, Eevi...


At the meeting spot, David was nearly ready to call it until he saw his quarry.

"Even I get amazed sometimes," he said as Eevi closed in. "Wouldn't have thought you to come. Readin' as much about you as I have, I'd have expected you to use that town as a smokescreen while you went somewhere else."

Checking the loading gate on his Single Action Revolver, David checked to see all the chambers loaded. Six shots - more than enough to kill his quarry.

"Hell, when I turned you in back in the Eighties, you killed off the entire squad that was supposed to haul you off to prison. And then I read about that...mishap in London, killin' a waitress to get at a rookie hero," David said. There was a surprising lack of taunting in his voice; merely stating things as they were. "The Inkwell whose bounty I was after would have shot White Glint in the back of the head and used the resulting shock to get in a cheap shot on me. What changed, kid?"

Eevi felt the fire in her leg burning, her body screaming for her to stop. Yet, something else inside her—something she wasn’t quite ready to name—pushed her forward. She hated it. Hated this feeling Taavi had stirred within her. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch, a mental splinter lodged deep within her mind, driving her mad.

David’s words barely registered beyond the surface. His recount of her past could’ve been anyone’s, and for a fleeting moment, Eevi almost forgot the weight of her own sins. But his question—what had changed—stuck with her. And that smile, for once, felt real.

She stopped a few feet from him, her body protesting every step, but she ignored it. The cold bit into her skin, sharp and unforgiving, but Eevi welcomed it. It helped ground her in the moment, her mind swimming between her thoughts of Taavi and the impending confrontation.

"You wanna know what changed, Crenshaw?" Eevi asked, her voice surprisingly steady, even warm. Her smile widened, though there was nothing friendly about it. "I hate it. I hate this...feeling. It’s like some sort of sickness eating away at me because of him. It’s like...being around him is making me better, and I hate it. You ever felt that? Something that just—" She waved her hand dismissively. "—makes you better, but you hate every second of it? Feels like a mental patient hating the pills they need."

The wind picked up, howling through the barren landscape, but Eevi didn’t flinch. She was in control now, even as her body ached, even as the blood soaked through her bandages. This was the only control she had left, the only thing that kept her tethered to something real in this moment.

"You know what that’s like?" she asked, her voice softening just a touch. "Being around someone who...just by being there...makes you question what the hell you’re doing with your life?" She tilted her head slightly, curious. "C’mon, be honest with me. Professional courtesy, one killer to another."

Her hand twitched, her fingers forming that familiar shape, the weight of her power humming beneath her skin. She took a slow, deliberate breath, her eyes locked on David’s.

"Click," she whispered, readying what could be her last shot, but only preparing to fire once QuickDraw…. No.. David, answered her.

"You know what that’s like? Being around someone who...just by being there...makes you question what the hell you’re doing with your life?" she had asked.

"Matter of fact...I do," David said. "I reckon I predate you by nearly a century. Life on the frontier, only way of livin' bein' the gun. I was much like you - an outlaw lookin' for his next big score. Then a girl walks into my life, I get her pregnant. She knew the life I had led - I left it behind for her and our little girl. Even if it weren't by much, everything started to feel better. It felt good, until old grudges from other gangs took my new life away from me. Gunned my wife down right in front of me; gunned me down, too. Then all these powers come to me. First, I tried to be a do-gooder with them for its own sake - killin' the scum of the West. Kept gettin' shot in the back - started chargin' for my hunts."

A large part of David still wanted to be the man that his late wife had expected of him. Had wanted to clean up his act like he had promised to his daughter mere days before they were taken. Now, with both of them gone, he felt he couldn't. Oh, he still hunted the scum of the Earth out of the good of his heart, but if you paid him enough, he would hunt anyone.

"It hardened me...losin' what made my life worth livin'," David said, rueful over his losses. "They ain't in my life anymore. This is all I got: using my talent for killin' to get rid of scum. And it sounds to me like that buddin' conscience of yours is tellin' you to take the second lease on life that man's offerin' you and treasure it while it's there. And really, you shoulda let him do this. In your state, you may never get that chance again."

David turned to face here, eyes sizing her up, knowing her powers required a verbal component to them. With his reaction times, it felt like cheating; the girl would have no chance of getting a word out before he cleared leather. His hand hovered over his revolver's grip, ready for her to raise first.

"Draw."

True to his reflexes, he'd get the bullet off first firing from the hip - his left hand fanned the hammer.

But instead of the sound of flesh being hit, the sound of metal deflecting off metal would ring out.

Eevi’s smile faded as David spoke, his story resonating with her in a way that she hadn’t expected. She had always thought of herself as a hardened soul, untouchable by the kind of emotional ties that could bring others down. But Taavi... Taavi was different, and it scared her how much she hated the thought of losing him. She knew how close she was to walking that same path David had described, a path of endless hunting, a void of purpose without someone to tether her back to humanity.

She felt the tension between them rise as David readied himself, his hand hovering over his revolver. Her leg screamed in agony, her body worn and fragile, but she wasn’t going to back down. Not now. Not ever.

The word hung in the air.

"Draw."

And like lightning, David moved first, his hand a blur as he fanned the hammer and fired. Eevi saw it all happen in slow motion, her body frozen as the realization hit her: she couldn’t stop him in time. She couldn’t get the shot off. She had lost.

But the sound wasn’t what she expected.

Instead of the dull, sickening thud of a bullet striking flesh, there was a sharp clang of metal deflecting metal. Her eyes widened as she saw Taavi—no, White Glint—standing in front of her, his armor absorbing the shot that was meant for her.

Her heart clenched, an unfamiliar wave of emotions crashing through her. Relief, anger, gratitude, frustration—too many things to process all at once. She had tried to stand on her own, to prove something to herself, to Taavi, and now here he was, putting himself in harm’s way again. For her.

"Damn you..." she muttered under her breath, barely able to contain the mixture of fury and something else entirely. "Why do you keep doing this...?"

Her hand twitched, still in the shape of a finger pistol, ready to fire. But she hesitated. Not because she couldn’t shoot, but because she realized that maybe...just maybe...this wasn’t the fight she needed to win. Maybe Taavi was the only one who could win this battle, not just with violence, but also by forcing her to face something she had been avoiding for far too long.

Her shot remained ready, but she didn’t "pull" the trigger. Not yet. For once it seemed, she would have to wait and watch the show unfold.