Calliope grips her gun tight. She opens the door slowly, to make sure it doesn't squeak. She makes sure it's only just enough to see them- all four of them, the police officers, all lounging around in her living room, smiling and joking like they weren't here to ruin Caliborn's life.
She grips her gun tighter. There are six bullets inside. There are four officers. She'd have to be accurate. And quick.
Part of her wants to resist- she is not her brother. She has never done well with gore. Or killing. She has never enjoyed the act of killing someone- nor has she ever wanted to. Part of her wants to hide her gun and pretend this is fine. Normal. Nothing important.
The other part of her knows that just a few rooms down her brother lies on his bed, gravely injured.
If the officers were to investigate, they would be able to arrest him easily.
If they didn't kill him instead, that is.
She wouldn't do this for anyone else. Wouldn't go against one of the only principles she's held close to her heart in all these years.
But....
It's Caliborn. Caliborn who had been by her side all her life. Shielding her from pain just as often as he is the one causing it. Caliborn who got into fights whenever someone insulted her just to turn around and start throwing words sharp as knives at her the moment she dared try and treat his injuries. Caliborn who held her through her nightmares just as much as he appeared in them.
Caliborn who had taken Father's rifle and shot him full of holes that night she still can't think about without her chest going cold. Cal who held her hand even as he was stained head to toe in blood. Cal who grabbed her cheeks with both fierceness and tenderness before leaning in to kiss her deeply. Passionately. Cal who had looked her in the eye and promised her he would never allow anyone to hurt her. Never again.
She would do anything for him.
She takes a deep breath and opens the door the rest of the way at the same time she raises her gun and opens fire.
