Rait suddenly felt his back burn. He froze in place; heat rapidly flooded his face, while nimble icy goosebumps ran down his burning back.

  What frightened him most was precisely that someone had heard him screaming. The first impulse was to run away; but suddenly he became scared—it seemed to him that this someone would chase him; and because of the breaking branches and rustling leaves, he wouldn't hear how close the pursuer was. Besides, his brain simply couldn't handle noise right now. Therefore, he found nothing better than to stand up and turn toward the sound.

  At that moment the moon emerged from behind the clouds—full, bright as a lantern. Its light fell on the stranger as well. Seeing him, Rait sighed with relief. This wasn't a guard or a policeman, but simply a young man in his early twenties. Probably he was walking around too. Or maybe he also liked coming to this particular place. "Maybe I'm bothering him?.."

  Rait turned and was about to leave.

  "Wait, I wanted..."

  The stranger's voice cut through the silence so suddenly that Rait flinched and stopped. He looked at the young man's face, wondering what he wanted. Long reddish-golden hair shimmered silver in the moonlight, and in the watery green eyes stood a metallic gleam. They were large, sad and somehow slightly naive; overall the person resembled some kind of deity suddenly descended from somewhere from the moon?..

  Rait's breath caught.

  "Who are you? You're one of them, aren't you?!"

  Rait himself didn't know what he was saying. Some kind of painful excitement appeared in his brain; as soon as he remembered the Organization, this lunar person appeared.

  Later Rait remembered this with shame. Apparently, he greatly puzzled the newcomer; his fantasy often played cruel jokes on him…

  But now he was looking into the stranger's eyes; the latter, in turn, was peering at him. Standing like that for a bit, the person said:

  "Sorry for the disturbance."

  After that he simply turned around and walked back.

  Something inside Rait dropped. He had been expecting something…

  He wanted to call out, but stopped himself. What was the point. This was just a passerby. Of course, he was surprised to see him here.

  But those eyes Rait remembered for a long time; and in the morning he couldn't figure out for a long time whether all this had happened to him or if it was a dream.

  ***

  "Are they idiots or what?!.." Gil paced back and forth across the room. "What do they expect from these negotiations?! That we'll make some kind of deal with them?"

  He was talking about the First Zone. The Second had already surrendered—after the population was halved. The First, seeing all this—they no longer had any desire to send help—was in no hurry to give a final answer. Although all that was required of them was to voluntarily surrender the government.

  "I remember not so long ago at an international conference they proclaimed that their sacred duty was to eliminate the new threat to humanity. Then they seriously intended to unite the whole world in the fight against a common enemy. And now they're making some kind of treaties with us?.. Do they think they're equal to us?"

  Kael yawned and said:

  "I never liked the First Zone... And their actions—they're not surprising; we'll have to mess around with them."

  "I just don't want to lose people senselessly. There are already so few of us, and in the Third Zone several people died accidentally..."

  Here Kael's eyes widened; he would have choked if there had been anything to choke on.

  "I mean, necessary people," Gil added, catching Kael's emotions.

  "Still, he has no shortage of possessiveness..." Kael thought.

  Here the door opened, and a woman entered the room—about the same age as Kael. Her wavy cold-wheat-colored hair reaching her shoulders, and large brown eyes created a certain resemblance to a golden retriever. In her hands was a glass—apparently with coffee.

  "Oh, are you busy?" she asked, seeing Kael.

  "No, I'm just expressing my emotions for now," Gil answered; a warm half-smile appeared on his face.

  "You were talking about the First Zone, right?"

  "I remember you're from there."

  "And I'm very glad that place will finally cease to exist."

  "I like this attitude!"

  "However, attitude alone isn't enough," Kael suddenly interjected gloomily. "Are we planning to conduct negotiations with them, or will it be without preliminaries?"

  "Kael, why are you so nervous lately?" Gil asked slyly.

  "As deputy, I'd prefer to speak with the authorities without extra ears."

  "When you see traitors everywhere, it won't be long before you catch it yourself," the woman said, eyes flashing. "Okay, I'm leaving, I'm leaving," she theatrically raised her hands and left; the coffee remained on the table.

  Kael felt quiet fury. Truly, only she could allow herself such antics; anyone else would have already been put in their place in a very indelicate manner.

  Waiting until the footsteps died away, Kael looked Gil in the eyes and quickly said:

  "Did you think about what I talked about three and a half nights ago here at two o'clock?"

  "I don't quite recall," Gil yawned. "Can you give me minutes and seconds?"

  Kael rolled his eyes. He barely restrained himself from twitching and making an irritated sound.

  "I take it you're not going to return to this topic."

  "You understand everything correctly. The fact that Esther (that was the name of the woman who had just left) was deported from the First Zone for hacking doesn't mean she's necessarily a spy. And what's the point for her?"

  "Then how do you explain that almost immediately after she joined the Organization, the First Zone held an international conference, even though back then even the Third remained intact? Would they need to pay attention to some 'terrorists' from the Second Zone—under normal circumstances they wouldn't lift a finger!"

  "Kael, you're forgetting that before this the Second Zone refused the First in concluding a deal. Well, regarding the resources of the neutral side in the north. Not wanting a scandal and having learned of our emerging movement, the First Zone grabbed the opportunity to extract benefit: if the whole world learned about 'terrorists' from the Second Zone, the latter would simply have to throw primarily its own forces into fighting them. And what's our budget like still since the Third Interplanetary? Right, everything's bad. And where do we have the concentration of world money? Right, in the First Zone. That's how the circle would close; and the First Zone would also get the reputation of a fighter against enemies of humanity."

  "I wasn't aware of information about the First Zone's intentions," Kael said quietly.

  "It couldn't have been known to you," Gil smiled. "As soon as Esther joined the Organization, I checked her very, very thoroughly. And if she's so unpleasant to you because she can dig up any information from anywhere—well, Kael, I can't even imagine what you're plotting there with your arrogance."

  On the word "arrogance" from Gil's lips, Kael nearly fell into a stupor.

  "Okay, I got it."

  Silence hung for some time.

  "As for your question about negotiations," Gil then said, sipping coffee, "why not go. When else will I have such an opportunity..."

  ***

  Rait's mother returned home without uttering a sound. In her presence, silence, one could say, filled the space, penetrating into every crack—so unusual was it in this case.

  Having put away his drawing and staring at the screen instead, Rait waited. He was already calculating how he could quickly leave the apartment if necessary—primarily through the window.

  "Congratulations, you bastard. You've had your fun."

  An icy cold ran down Rait's spine. Right away like that, without preamble. The welcoming window invited with a breeze…

  He sat without moving, afraid to breathe.

  She quickly approached and stood behind him. Rait's whole back was covered with goosebumps; he really wanted to jump up, but this could provoke aggression.

  "You've c-completely frayed my nerves..." she said through her teeth. "They lowered my salary because of you, you idiot!!!"

  After these words she sharply grabbed him by the hair, throwing his head back.

  Rait didn't even have time to properly think about how this fact could be connected to him. However, even if he had thought about it, he wouldn't have come to any conclusion. In general, nothing new under the sun…

  "Of course, how can you be calm when you have such a bastard at home: you don't know what he'll do next—go kill people or throw himself out the window!"

  "Well at least the latter is true."

  "'How dare you talk to me like that, how dare you talk to me like that!..'" this was her, apparently, quoting her boss. "He should try living with such an animal himself!.."

  On the last word she slapped her hand on the table with all her might.

  Rait had a habit of sipping tea while drawing or reading, or indeed doing anything. So now on the table stood a cup of freshly brewed, still steaming tea, spreading a pleasant herbal aroma around itself.

  And everything would be fine if his mother's hand hadn't reached for this cup. Here Rait's reaction worked perfectly—he jumped up from his place, instinctively saying "d-don't." He accidentally pushed the one standing behind—part of the drink spilled, and judging by the piercing sound that immediately followed, onto her hand. Being in the process of a lightning-fast dash toward the window, Rait heard the deafening clang of the cup on the floor, accompanied by the barking out of curses in quite high tones.

  At that moment it became painfully clear to him that if he didn't immediately leave the premises, things would be very, very bad. And painfully because part of the spilled tea got on his exposed ankle. Not wanting to get the rest in his face, he grabbed the window handle; the sensation was like in a dream where a pursuer drives you into a room with a single exit—that same window, and you frantically open it and jump out as fast as possible—no matter from what height—because you can already feel the pursuer at your back. To horrific curses, Rait literally tumbled down, immediately jumped to his feet and ran to a safe distance.

  He understood that she was terrifyingly angry and wouldn't let this go. His first impulse was to run, as far and fast as possible. But his quick thinking kicked in just in time: he wouldn't last long that way, and it would cost her nothing to chase after him. The best way out of this situation would be to get the motorcycle-like vehicle from the garage; plus, his civilian ID card was lying in the glove compartment there (how forgetfulness sometimes saves you!), so if anything happened, he wouldn't be taken anywhere or mistaken for a thief.

  And once again he had to act instantly. While Rait ran around the house at full speed—and again, as in a dream, it seemed that something kept trying to slow his running—his brain calculated how much time his mother would need to get out. Little, pathetically little; only closing the window and door could delay her—if, of course, she didn't neglect that.

  The second during which the identifier scanned Rait's iris dragged on agonizingly long.

  Quickly wheeling out the vehicle, he didn't even bother closing the door.

  And he was right not to. Because his mother came running out of the entrance.

  "A-ah, there you are, you bastard!!!"

  And again, fleeing became his first impulse. However, he immediately pulled himself together; starting the vehicle usually took seconds.

  "Three..."

  He jumped on the motorcycle; his mother was rapidly approaching.

  "Two..."

  Closer and closer; Rait's face was as stone-like as if she weren't there at all.

  "One..."

  "Don't you dare run off!!!"

  "Zero."

  They were separated by a few centimeters when Rait took off; her fingers slid across the hem of his unbuttoned hoodie.

  "Don't even think about coming home, scum, bastard, idiot..."—then came rapidly receding curses.

  He thanked the gods that no one crossed his path—he flew out of the yard at quite high speed: only quick reflexes and the will of chance allowed him to make the turn.

  Now—onto the road, and further, as far as possible from home. He didn't know where. He had no friends.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  The rest of the day he rode aimlessly around the city. Fortunately, it was early autumn, so he didn't get too cold. However, the nights were already cold.

  Stopping in a completely unfamiliar place—it seemed to be the city outskirts—he sat down at a bus stop. There was no one around—that was good at least; but the evening cold was beginning to penetrate to his bones, causing shivers.

  Wrapping his jacket tighter, he huddled up. The burn on his leg reminded him of itself. Amazing; it was just a little tea, and already such a mark. Just a little…

  And in ancient times people were boiled alive. Slowly lowered into a cauldron, starting with their feet. And that pain was millions, no, billions of times stronger. Scum. Rait hated people. They exploited the pain reflexes of their own kind; knowing about the fragility of the human body, they subjected it to inhuman perversions. A living being in its right mind simply cannot conceive of such things.

  One of Rait's greatest fears was dying an agonizing death. He couldn't stand pain, he was afraid of pain, pain for him was the embodiment of the physical world and vice versa. He didn't want to live in this world where everyone—both people and animals—had to constantly inflict meaningless pain on each other; but he was forced to.

  And in the Third Zone, savage customs and torture still exist. Although, wait... The Third Zone no longer exists.

  A smile lit up Rait's face.

  "The Third Zone is no more. The world now has significantly less suffering."

  "Thank you... Who would have thought that those most concerned about the world situation would be those whose interests lie in destroying humanity."

  It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. No one else would have their skin flayed or be stoned. No one would be humiliated for congenital defects. There would be no cruel, meaningless human sacrifices. They all died and won't return.

  Rait suddenly wanted to draw the leader of the Organization. To draw... Gripping icy shivers ran through his body. The drawing was still at home. How hard he'd worked on it, how he'd labored over the details; now, if his mother saw it, she would most likely simply tear the picture apart.

  Usually he did this himself when about five accumulated—he couldn't bear the volume of unwarranted negativity that rained down on him; no, he didn't show the drawings—they were dug up.

  He clenched his fists.

  "What the hell. I'm one of the few in this world who wants there to be no suffering, I'm one of the few who is extremely empathetic and one of the few engaged in creative activity; why does everyone hate me so much?!"

  "How I wish... to prove..."—uninvited tears flowed down his face.—"I'm above them, I'm incomparably higher; why am I the only one who possesses this sense of hierarchy..."

  "I don't care that I'm an ordinary human. I'll join the Organization. They must accept me. Let them do what they want; if they kill me—that's also good; at least I'll die at the hands of superior beings."

  During these musings, Rait was guided exclusively by the fact that such organizations usually willingly recruited people. He understood that this one was not simple, but rather quite elite; but the idea had already seized him, spreading warmth throughout his body. He was as if catapulted from his spot; on the opposite side of the road the subway sign was visible, all that remained was to cross it. There seemed to be no cars at night…

  He remembered his own vehicle only in the middle of crossing the road. Annoyed with himself, he sharply turned back, and then the silent movement technology played a cruel joke on him—there turned out to be a car after all, which hadn't managed to stop and didn't care to slow down upon seeing a person on the road. And probably, even if it had made noise, Reyt wouldn't have heard it in his morbid excitement.

  It hit him glancingly; the impact was so strong that Rait lost consciousness.

  The First Zone greeted the Organization's representatives with dazzling brilliance. Literally dazzling—the weather was sunny, the air was transparent, except completely without any smell whatsoever.

  The airport was located far from the capital; however, even stepping on the ground for the first time, one could feel that you were clearly not in the Second Zone, and probably not even in the Fourth, which was as civilized as the First.

  Expanse, wind, and some kind of polished perfection.

  While they drove to the capital, Gil looked out the window. It seemed similar to what was at home, yet somehow not quite.

  His foggy state suddenly changed when, after a sharp turn, what looked like a mountain appeared on the horizon. However, it was so even and regular... Gradually the mountain began to divide into small neat parts, and then a silver strip flashed dazzlingly in the sunlight before it.

  Everything turned out to be simple. The mountain was the tallest skyscrapers of the capital, built in such a way that from a certain angle they merged into one whole. The silver strip was a huge lake, across which one of the longest bridges in the world was built. Actually, they were about to cross it.

  The water was so shiny that solar glares remained in the eyes. It was also hard to look at the buildings—they were either covered with glass panels or simply very light-colored—mostly white.

  Gil's breath was taken away even on the approach to the capital; he made a promise to himself to behave calmly when they arrived at their destination. Kael's stone, motionless face also created a businesslike rather than enthusiastic atmosphere.

  However, as soon as they stepped out in front of the government building, Gil still couldn't hold back.

  "Kael, Kael!"—he spoke in a half-whisper.—"How can you be so calm!!! I would definitely move here after we destroy everyone! This is just... sim-ply..."

  "Concentrate!!!"—Kael barked in a whisper, interrupting him.—"Am I the only one maintaining protection for both you and myself?!"

  "Oh, calm down, you don't need to for me. I concentrate perfectly on two things at once. Okay, sorry."

  A spacious, bright hall. The entire wall consists of transparent glass panels regulating the intensity of light from outside. A very high ceiling.

  "First of all, I want to convey to you that we are not rivals, but potential economic partners,"—said the man in the white suit sitting across from Gil and Kael.—"Moreover, on quite favorable terms, which I will explain to you, if you allow me."

  He looked at his opponents with poorly concealed doubt on his face. And Gil, who only had his eyes visible, inspired nothing optimistic or intelligible in him at all.

  "There are only two options here,"—thought the man in the white suit.—"Either they can be spontaneously lured in, or all is lost. This is clearly not like negotiating with some terrorists, even if they're fervent religious fanatics."

  "And what, the President himself didn't deign to appear before us?"—asked Kael, barely noticeably smirking with the corner of his lips.

  "You can rest easy on that account. I am his equivalent representative; my official position is Minister of Foreign Affairs, and you are the first to learn of my main appointment,"—he smiled.

  "And the last,"—Gil couldn't resist, chuckling.

  This didn't disconcert the representative.

  "You're right, and the last. That's exactly what I'm trying to hint at. We have common interests."

  "You have some incorrect notions about our interests,"—said Gil.

  "No, well, why. As I understand it, you want to create a new, better world. Isn't that right, Mr. Gilrait? Your name speaks for itself [1],"—he smiled again.

  No, he wasn't afraid of overdoing the flattery. He knew that the person sitting across from him was not much older than 18; but he didn't know that he would meet that boy whose eyes had been full of panic fear and pain under such circumstances. The Minister of Foreign Affairs tried with all his might to convince himself that the head of the Organization hadn't planned this event in advance and that success could depend simply on correctly chosen words.

  "Yes, of course, that's right,"—he chided himself.—"Was a kid, remained a kid; status doesn't mean anything yet."

  Kael was sincerely laughing inside himself. "Some diplomat we've found..."

  Gil winced.

  "Be so kind as not to trouble yourself with pronouncing my name in full..."—he paused for a second and rolled his eyes.—"As for your question—yes, in a sense, that's right. At least, that's how you can view it."

  "As you wish. However, you are aware of the world balance?"

  Gil yawned.

  "Are you talking about money now or philosophizing?"

  "Let's not talk about money for now,"—said his opponent; Kael snorted—the other didn't notice.

  "See, I told you it would be interesting,"—Gil said quietly to his deputy.

  The man in the white suit swallowed this too; the situation was incredibly infuriating to him—he had never been in such an unfavorable position, being accustomed to always control the situation. However, "you have to play the game to survive."

  "So,"—he continued.—"Just as there cannot be one climate everywhere on the planet, there cannot be exclusively good or exclusively bad. Moreover, while climate depends on external conditions—it's cold in the north not because it's warm in the south—life balance is precisely regulated by living beings. The prey is dead, but the predator is fed. In other words, everything has a flip side; the new better world is no exception. There is no pure ideal."

  "Your concept of balance is quite applicable to wildlife; however, I don't see how it applies to people,"—said Gil.—"For someone to win the lottery, say, no one somewhere has to die or suffer."

  "Oh, I'll explain to you how it applies to people. I'm sure we'll find common ground,"—at these words the opponent snapped his fingers.

  A hologram appeared in the middle of the semicircular table—it was a model of the planet.

  "As you see, before you is an ordinary globe."

  Then the image changed.

  "This is the same globe, but taking into account forecasts for fifty years ahead. See what's in that bluish color?"

  "So you're planning to conquer the world?"—Gil smirked.

  "No, God forbid! We're not some kind of conquerors; we're for world peace. Here we return to balance. You know, in society there's an excellent regulator of this balance—as you correctly mentioned earlier, it's money. I'm saying this because in about half a century the Second Zone will find itself in a debt pit; and since besides territory you—excuse me, they—have nothing to pay with, the territory will go to the First Zone. The Fourth Zone faces complete dependence and, as a consequence, further absorption."

  Kael almost snorted. "Interesting, and how much time did it take him to come up with this nonsense..."

  After waiting a short pause, he continued:

  "Returning to the flip side of everything that exists. This model of the planet taking into account current conditions is, of course, not entirely correct; besides money, another regulator of balance has appeared in the world. That's you. And now I understand that the First Zone and your Organization have been given the same function. But don't think now that I'm putting us on the same level as you; not at all."

  He looked meaningfully at Gil.

  "A psychologist, however,"—thought Kael.

  "I perfectly understand my position as a human,"—the man continued,—"and I'm not going to claim equal treatment; this is simple hierarchy, and I understand it."

  "Esther is not a traitor, then... He'll start speaking word for word soon. He should at least be afraid..."

  "That's precisely why I want to offer you the following model for consideration. To not violate eternal dualism and to maintain balance, two elements are necessary, I believe. This is your new state and the First Zone. As I already said, we in no way put ourselves on the same level with you; we will be that very flip side, the shadow of the ideal world."

  Here Kael became completely agitated. Gil often called himself the Shadow, which caused both mockery and apprehension.

  "We will become that,"—continued the President's representative,—"which will supply the ideal world with quite material resources, without interfering in its existence. You didn't think you'd live on the holy spirit, did you?"—in the last phrase he managed with great difficulty to suppress a chuckle.

  Gil sighed wearily, waited a second or two and said:

  "I understand, it's offensive and even impossible to lose the status of the world's leading power, especially because of some self-proclaimed idealists. Your tongue wouldn't turn to say 'terrorists'—you know, I sincerely believe that the terrorists are those who sold weapons to the Third Zone, not those who finally ended the meaningless lives of those unfortunates. But that's just by the way; returning to your question—about the holy spirit, you've probably gone too far. We have some ideas on this matter, namely: for the first time we will use some of the people who survived as a workforce. Otherwise I see no problem—there are far fewer of us than you, much fewer resources are also required; and we're not going to settle all over the planet, God forbid. With automated labor I also see no problem with material goods; and as for knowledge—that's exactly why we'll leave the best of your representatives alive; and, to your greatest regret, not only from the First Zone. As a bonus for their efforts, we'll allow them, so to speak, to die a natural death."

  What was said fell on the First Zone's representative like a pile of snow, drenching him with the panicky cold of inevitable defeat. This time the performance failed; and in Gil's voice there was such iron immutability, such icy mockery, that his opponent for the first time seriously wondered whether he himself would be among the people who would be allowed to "die a natural death."

  "Are you simply going to destroy human civilization?"—he asked impassively.—"But you won't be able to build an ideal world without previous experience. You'll be like small children..."

  "We're not going to destroy civilization. All its achievements will go to us—including art—especially since the creation of these achievements was largely facilitated by our own people at different times. And if we're taking previous experience, then, believe me, not only from you... What are you trying to teach me? You, a representative of a state where social stratification hardly reaches the point beyond which there's barely anything but slavery—and all because you reproduce mindlessly without end."

  "But you yourself are always talking about hierarchy!"—a desperate argument wedged into the monologue.

  "Are you comparing changeable social status with what is given by nature and felt at the level of consciousness? Well, I thought you weren't an idiot."

  The First Zone's representative felt with his skin how everything was going to hell. However, the final blow awaited him ahead.

  "And, you know,"—Gil continued,—"you're an even bigger idealist than I am. You've been talking here about some perfect world, about the balance of power and so on. What's all this philosophy for? Be simpler. I just want to ensure the prosperity of my species without any interference. Well, and also—we unanimously don't like you all."

  This was already final defeat. If before it was as if a pile of snow had fallen on the First Zone's representative, now it was as if he'd been shot in the head with a vacuum pistol—in his ears from the piercing silence the thinnest string was ringing; pressure bore down on his head, and his breathing quickened—together with his heartbeats, now pounding against his ribcage with terrible force.

  Suddenly he understood that this was the end. It would seem—so simple, but so incredible. All his life he was accustomed to being master of the situation; there was no situation from which one couldn't escape—with the help of personal qualities, influence, money, finally. But here…

  Cold gripped his spine with icy claws. After all, he hadn't even supposed that things would turn out this way. Success had already become an integral part of his life; he was paralyzed.

  After all, now all that remained for him was to press the button. The button that would destroy him and everyone sitting in the room—and save humanity. The button he hadn't even wanted to think about before.

  Here a vile, insidious bug began to eat into his brain.

  "May I ask a question?"

  Gil nodded, smiling.

  "Will I be among the people who survive?"

  "I want to live. I just want to live. I don't want to die."

  "Even if I say no, you still won't have the spirit to press that ill-fated button,"—Gil laughed.

  The First Zone's representative flinched. Cold sweat appeared quite noticeably on his face.

  True, he couldn't press the button. And now he couldn't survive either. This was failure.

  However... what if…

  "And even if you did have enough,"—Gil continued,—"the result would be zero, like my reaction to what you're about to offer me now."

  At these words he took out a pistol and started twirling it in his hands. Now this was definitely failure. The vice president of the First Zone was very well informed about the habits of Organization people—now he knew what would happen next.

  However, he couldn't think anyway. He half-rose from his seat, raising his hands up. He looked Gil in the eyes; tears flowed down his face.

  "I beg you... All the money in the world!!! You'll live like a king—everything you desire, at any second..."

  Here his voice broke; he was speaking almost through hysteria, hardly hearing himself.

  "World domination—it's yours, unconditional, inalienable!!! Any person can't even dream of this!!!"

  "Of which I am not one,"—Gil smirked.

  "Don't kill me."

  This blurted-out line echoed off the walls of the large hall.

  After this he stared at the pistol and began breathing rapidly, gasping for air with his mouth like a fish thrown onto the surface.

  "Well, about the zero reaction I exaggerated. You're still amusing..."

  "I have a wife and children,"—the last, desperate, pitiful justification for life flew out gloomily.

  His tears had already dried. His spirit barely held in his body; fog covered his eyes, and the only clear object was the pistol—and that traitor was spinning every which way.

  "Don't worry, they'll die too,"—Gil answered.

  It was evident that the result satisfied him; he raised the pistol and took aim.

  The First Zone's representative widened his eyes beyond recognition, instinctively saying "d-don't."

  Gil smirked in a special way, and less than a second later the accurate bullet ended the suffering of the vice president and concurrently Minister of Foreign Affairs of the First Zone with a shot to the forehead.

  And this was indeed the final blow [2].

  [1] The name is taken from mythology (of this world); from the ancient language it translates as "right hand of god", in some interpretations – "divine right"

  [2] Here and further on, the use of firearms by the Organization's people is a demonstration of contempt for the opponent, an unwillingness to waste their strength on them.