They fire a large caliber bullet through their jacket, directly at Morda's chest.

Morda stumbles back with the impact, the bullet tearing easily through its chestplate -- it was built sturdy, but not bulletproof.

Solace's foot shoots out and plants itself on Delta's throat.

She stares down in shock, unable to process what's happening, what she's doing.

Her foot presses down harder.

There's a knock at the door, and Ali's body pulls him along to answer it.

It's another S20.

"Hello there," it says, kicking its old body.

"Why won't you die?”

"It's not in my nature."

"Fuck your nature." They fire again.

As they fire, Solace's foot comes down hard on their throat, and the bullet buries itself in the plaster behind the S20.

The blood drains from her face. "Delta! I… I didn't mean… I…" She looks around, panicked, and struggles to pull herself off and towards a table with a scalpel on it.

Ali jerks up an arm, stumbling forward into her path and leaning himself onto her.

"I... feel not right...," he says under his breath, all of the previous grace of his movements lost.

She ignores him, stumbling past and grabbing for the knife.

Tracheotomy, she thinks to herself in desperation.

She successfully grabs the knife but her hands bring it up to her own eye, an inch away from touching.

Breathing heavily, she tries to pry it away and bring the knife to Delta's throat.

Delta is crawling away, panicked and choking.

Can't breathe. Have to fix this. I will not die here.

They are scooped into Morda's arms.

"Where do you think you're going?"

They flip it off, weakly.

Gently -- almost sweetly -- it places them on the ground and pluck the scalpel from Solace's hands, and presses it to their jugular.

"I would love to convert you, but I find I don't have enough time. Do you have any last words?"

Solace and Ali are jerked until they stand around Delta, and then locked in place.

There's a flash of something like contempt on their face, and then their hand enters their coat and comes out holding the firing pin of a grenade.

See you in hell.

Its second set of arms, previously dormant at its sides, shoot out. It unscrews the fuse at the top, time slowing down to milliseconds as its fingers deftly work. It throws the now-dead grenade away.

"A very nice attempt."

Fuck, that was going to be cool.

"Goodbye."

The scalpel presses down, and blood spurts out in pulses. Morda strokes their cheek.

They try to spit on Morda's face, but it comes out as more of a strand of drool dripping down their chin.

It turns its face up to Solace and Ali.

"Please behave so that neither of you have to go out the same way."

She's nodding in shock and horror. She doesn't think there's a chance anymore. Still, her fingers inch towards where she knows an important bit of the EMBER wiring rests, just beneath the muscle of her arm.