Restaurant Floor
Kira maintained her death grip on the terrorist's wrist, keeping the muzzle of her pistol pressed hard into the back of his head, reasserting herself with increased force each time the man tried to struggle away until his protests died back into a dull whimper. She kept her profile hidden behind him the best she could, and when she didn't hear the clatter of dropping weapons within a few seconds, she stiffened. She didn't like the direction this standoff seemed to be heading at all. If this lowlife's compatriots decided his life wasn't worth trading whatever twisted goal they'd hoped to accomplish here...
She was about to shout her demands once again when she heard the unmistakable sound of rifles being chambered off to her right, and in her peripheral vision she saw their source. Her stomach tied itself into a knot as she felt the last vestiges of control over this situation slip from her grasp, and her racing mind was having an increasingly difficult time outrunning the panic that was closing in on her from all sides. She didn't release her captive, however, only turned herself to just enough of an angle to provide as much cover for herself, now otherwise completely in the open, as was possible from the now dishearteningly-wide arc of armed bad guys before them.
Her jaw worked fruitlessly in search of a response to the new threat. Time seemed to freeze around her, encapsulated in the same icy grip that was twisting her insides now, even though in the back of her mind she knew it had to have only been a few seconds before more movement caught her eye.
To say she was relieved would have been a gross understatement. She immediately recognized the standard breach-and-entry formations of the NPF tactical ops division, and all at once she felt as if every bone in her body at once turned to jelly. She nearly collapsed as her taut muscles slackened, releasing her blubbering captive as she laid her weapon on the floor and dropped to her knees, placing her hands atop her head with her fingers interlaced, smiling in spite of herself.
Outside - Aftermath
She sat on the rear bumper of one of the parked ambulances, a thick blanket draped around her bare shoulders which she pulled tightly around herself. Though she didn't believe she was suffering from shock, Kira was more than familiar enough with police protocol to graciously accept the offered blanket if for no reason other than to protect her modesty. The evening gown she had so carefully selected for this event, into which she had spent weeks planning her insertion and had cost her very nearly all of her remaining cash, was now a tattered ruin that left very little to the imagination.
Still, however, though she didnt feel as though a doctor would diagnose her accordingly, she still couldn't keep the thousand-yard stare out of her cold, steel-colored eyes. She didn't understand what had been worth so much pointless death to those men. Even knowing that this wasn't the first grisly scene of such macabre proportions she'd witnessed in her life didn't make it any easier to stomach. None of those people in attendance, haughty and pretentious as some of them were, deserved to die in such a horrible way. Her heart ached for their families and loved ones. Badly.
Before she could slip too far down that slippery slope of malaise, Duncan approached her and the other brave interlopers huddled nearby. She shook off the glassy look and offered the gigantic man a smile in return. She'd meant it to be congenial; this man had selflessly (albeit, perhaps foolishly) risked his life for complete strangers in an instant, and that was something Kira greatly respected. And it was the tall, lithe woman with the oddly canine features who, with her quick thinking and gadgets, had brought the slaughter to a grinding, screeching halt. But in her physical and emotional exhaustion she could only offer a wan upward curl of the corners of her lips.
Regardless, she resolved to set aside her pity and palaver with the two true heroes of the day, whose courage had done what the NPF would no doubt claim the credit for before the day's end, if she knew them at all. She rose to her feet, hiding the tremble in her knees beneath the long blanket which she held tightly closed with her left fist. Her right hand she extended to him in greeting, then offered it to Shasta. "Kira Denere," she said as pleasantly as she was able. Most of the former commanding boom to her voice had left it, and while it still retained a resonant, melodious timbre, it now sounded tired and withdrawn.