His boot-steps echoed through the room as she bathed. Carefully, he splashed the lathered cascade across her body, clearing away the dirt and clutter. “Been quite a day, hasn’t it?” he whispered, bringing the foam to her face.
It was here that he paused, seeing the rows of kills painted under his name. “This is my legacy, our legacy, isn’t it love? This is all anyone will ever see of us. Not as man and machine, just dealers of death.”
Cipher smiled to himself, snagging the rag off his Eagle’s wing. There was still a lot of aircraft left to clean.
And entry #2 for this week’s challenge from Julia’s Place. Because sometimes your legacy is written for you, and no words will ever wipe that away.
I hope you all enjoy!