Sci-fi snippet under two hundred words. Enjoy.
~ Darkness awaits ~
I could have clubbed the skinning bastard with it. Probably would have made less noise, too.
She dropped the weapon. It thudded on the grated decking. The sound reverberated in her ears, which were still ringing from the report of the pistol in the tight confines of Way Station Omega.
The air dank, fetid, like a crypt.
Your tomb.
She shook herself from her grim reverie, recalling an ancient Terran adage an instructor at the Protectorate Imperia often quoted:
Character is what you are in the dark.
The power cells were fading, radiating a sickly yellow pall as if the whole station were a diseased organism.
Not diseased.
Dying.
No more thoughts of death, for when it came, she would embrace it, like the inevitable dark.
In the blackness, these murderous things would indeed come to know her true character.
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