Junebug ducked behind the bowl of one of the larger trees as the forest crashed with the sounds of rifle fire. The rebels initial panic was passing. They might be backworld scum, but they had been in enough firefights to have learned the basics. The survivors ducked behind the cover of crates, stumps and their large hover vehicle and began to fire up into the trees where they, correctly, guessed Neil was located. Sayeeda inwardly winced. Trees were poor positions because the enemy had just as good a line on you as you had on him, they provided no real cover, and they were difficult to fall back from. Already bullets were wicking through the foliage, showering the lower levels with leaves, twigs and splinters.

Well, she couldn't exactly fault him for tactical choice. It wasn't as though he was the only combatant on the field. A smile tugged and her lips as she peeked out from behind the tree bohle. The rebels had clearly dismissed her from thier minds once the shooting started, and no one had yet had time to figure out that Jorge was missing. One of the rebels was fumbling with the plasma rifle she had bought from the Highlander, a foolish move over using his own, more familiar, weapon but an understandable one. She sighted on the small of his back and then took up the trigger pressure on her stolen pistol. The slugthrower kicked harder than she had imagined and the recoil lifted the barrel. Rather than a clean shot through center of mass the round lifted the back of the rebels skull in a spray of pinkish gray mist. She fired again, this time judging the recoil correctly, the second rebel slumped bonlessly forward onto the log he had been using to sight.

Attacked from two angles, leaderless and with half their number down the rebels broke, unfortunately they still hadn't correctly figured Sayeeda's position and they fled towards the trailhead beside which she was sheltering. Neil's rifle continued to crack, either because he didn't realise they were running or he didn't see any reason to not put the boot in when the enemy was down. Sayeeda approved of the second option also.

With deliberate care she stepped onto the trail in the path of the four remaining rebels, their eyes were wide and it was doubtful they saw her before the pistol cracked, dropping the lead fugitive in a tangled heap over which the second man sprawled in gawky disorganization. Sayeeda ignored the fallen man and shot the next rebel, a bulky man with a grease stained mowhawk, through the right eye. The third man pitched forward, struck, she presumed from another round from Neil. Her lips tightened into a grimace, no body liked incoming rounds no matter how well intentioned.

"Please," whimpered the man still trying to untangled himself from the corpse on the ground.

"I surr..." Crack. Sayeeda shot him through the top of the head before he could finish and he slumped with a gurgle over the other corpse. For a moment the forrest was silent save for an odd chuffing sound. It took her a moment to identify the hysterical weeping of the prisoners she had seen on the way in. The barrel of the pistol glowed white from the extended firing and the air danced and distorted around the irridium battle. The acrid taste of ozone and the stink of blood and the voided bowels of dead men, a familiar cocktail, filled the air.

"All Clear!" Junebug yelled, waggling the pistol slightly to help with cooling.