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[right][hr][color=gray][b]Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Convention Center[/b]
March 26th, 2677[/color][hr][/right]
[indent][color=C1B989][i]New Anchorage, huh?[/i][/color]

It had been over seven years since Irina Snigir had set foot in Smith’s Rest, though her return to the settlement wasn’t one she made lightly and without distinct purpose. The truth of it all was that she had returned to southern Alaska to confirm the basis of a rumor she had been hearing for several months; a rumor that New Anchorage had hired one of her oldest enemies, a man by the name of Ingram Kalfox, a man whom [i]deserved[/i] to [i]die[/i]. It almost felt euphoric as she entered the convention center with the knowledge that she could finally be done with Ingram and his despicable and irredeemable sins; to finally be [i]free.[/i] She almost didn’t care that the convention hall was fitted with armed soldiers and townsfolk. She knew that if she killed Ingram here and now in front of everyone the worst thing that could befall her was a temporary arrest. For the first time in months, she felt she was free of the effects of her Polaris Shift... or at least, that’s what she thought.

[i]Something [/i]clicked in her mind as she stood in the nestled crowd, watching the interviews go by her hands began to curl into fists as they reached out and grabbed the bottommost fibers of her jacket in an anxious tension. Here eyes looked at the pilots closely, her brows narrowed and teeth clenched. She saw Ingram there at the table, and as thankful as she was for him to not notice her she felt herself inert and unable as the minutes began to feel like hours of unbearable torture.

[color=C1B989][i]Why can’t you do it? It’s so easy. Just reach for your pistol and put a whole clip in his skull. Watch it [b]pop[/b]. It’ll be [b]cathartic[/b]. All of your troubles will go away. But maybe they won’t. Maybe you’ll miss. Maybe you’ll get killed by the soldiers before you even think to try. What’s wrong ‘Irina’? Maybe you aren’t as strong as you thought. Maybe you’re [b]worse[/b] than he is.[/i][/color]

The thoughts in her head began to turn into neurotic, paranoid lapses and Irina couldn’t do anything about it. Only hear her nerves and worst fears speak out to her; colliding with her own rational thoughts. She quickly turned around, the hood held around her head falling back as she made her way to the doors. Her expression soured but it spoke a thousand words; it demanded anyone in her way to [i]move[/i] and to do so [i]quickly.[/i] In her head she was panicking and cursing at herself, abhorring her indecision and commitment to letting Ingram and her fears win. She knew she had to do [i]something[/i], but she would not be able to do it here in the center of the convention hall. That much was certain. She just needed to get out of the convention center and wait for her window.

That window came when she noticed the blonde-haired thirteen year old pilot from the interviews wander outside--into the streets--in a huff. With a cigarette in mouth and an uneasy expression on her face she moved to intersect with the girl, whom she was approaching from behind at a rapidly faster pace. Eventually, she called out to the girl.

[color=C1B989]“Stop. I’d like a word with you.”[/color]

She wondered if the girl thought she was going to push her into an alley and rob her of her credits before shooting her point blank. She wouldn’t have blamed her if that was what she thought. She wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

But then again, she never thought clearly.[/indent]