World Of Fur: Not my world

Francoise

With a worried expression, Arthur walks into the barracks. He had run into barely any resistance on his way here. And now there is even less.

"It would seem that lady Lilith was correct once again." A young female leopard says, stepping out from around a gun rack.

"And who might you be lassy?" Arthur asks her.

"You don't need to know old man. All you need to know is that I'm about to kill you. Just like I killed that old polar bear a few months ago." The leopard responds, with a sneer.

"So, your the one that killed Becket ay? Ya are aware that Imma have to get revenge for that ain't ya?" Arthur asks.

The two of them are pointing there weapons at each other. Arthur with his Winchester rifle and she with an M4.

"As if you even can. Your nothing but an old man. What can you do?" She asks, almost laughing.

"Not flinch." He replies.

Just as she's about to question him Arthur pulls his trigger, shooting off the top left side of her head. She reflexively pulls her own trigger, but the bullet just goes through his ear lobe. He doesn't even flinch.

"I'm sorry young lady. I don't normally attack women, but I had to do it. For Misses Becket." He says, pulling off his jacket and throwing it over her face.

Then he gets a message on his private channel.

"Arthur?" It's Cora talking to him.

"I'm here." He replies.

"It seems we've already dealt with the forces Lilith had stationed here." Cora says.

"Care ta explain?" He asks her.

"They were nothing more than a token force. The others are busy planting bio bombs that'll go of as soon as we kill Lilith." Cora explains.

"Then we should just stuff her in prison I reckon." Arthur comments.

"We would. But, unfortunately it's not that simple. Is she's not dead within twelve hours, her main weapon goes off killing everyone on earth." She responds.

"Shite." Arthur says.

"Yeah. Just continue the mission for now. I'll let you know if we manage to find a solution." Cora orders.

"Ay." Arthur says.

With a glance at the dead leopard  he makes the sign of the cross and walks off.

Meanwhile, in the mess hall a few kilometres away, Francoise stands face to face with a hooded hawk carrying an Intervention sniper rifle.

Francoise makes sure that his own Arctic Warfare rifle is loaded.

"I don't smell any hostility from you." Francoise comments.

"A good hunter knows how to keep his blood lust under control. Otherwise it frightens the prey." The Hawk, Reaper, replies.

"Are we going to do this like gentleman or would you rather brawl." Francoise asks.

"Neither." Reaper responds before pulling his weapons scope up to his eye.

Francoise, who knew that this battle would be decided with a single shot, runs towards Reaper.

Reaper looks like he has expected this and doesn't waver.

Then Francoise slides between a couple of table. This makes it difficult for Reaper to get a good shot.

Once Francoise emerges he's already looking through his scope, directly at Reaper.

The two men fire simultaneously.
Francoise's bullet hits Reaper in the chest while Reapers bullet tears through Francoise's abdomen. It destroys multiple organs.

Both men know they'll be dead in minutes.

"Why did you hesitate?" Francoise asks, after he props himself up against a table.

"Because. You reminded me of the brother I once had." Reaper responds.

Silence falls between them.

"If you don't mind I'd like to sing the national anthem of my home country, South Africa." Francoise says.

"I don't mind." Reaper replies, his voice faint.

Then Francoise slowly starts to sing.

"Nkosi sikelel' Afrika
Maluphakanyisw' uphondo lwayo
Yizwa imithandazo
Yethu
Nkosi sikelela
Thina
Lusapho lwayo
Morena boloka setjhaba sa heso
O fedise dintwa la matshwenyeh
O se boloke Ntate
O se boloke
Setjhaba sa
Heso
Setjhaba sa
South Afrika
South Afrika
Uit die blou van onse hemel
Uit die diepte van ons see
Oor ons ewige gebergtes
Waar die kranse antwoord gee
Sounds to call to come together
And united we shall stand
Let us live and strive for freedom
In South Africa our land." He sings, his voice growing fainter with every sentence.

Then.

"Skink solank ñ dop. My broer. (Pour a drink. My brother.)" He whispers as his heart stops beating.