Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I make no money off of this. I cannot even claim the majority of the dialogue, it was taken from Final Conflict.

AN: This is what my brain comes up with when 3 in the morning is combined with the Mortal Kombat soundtrack. Basically I wrote this little bit because I wanted Sandoval to find out about his son before he died.


"Game's over, Ms. Palmer."

Renee slowly turned to face her enemy, who stood only a few meters away on the catwalk. His soft chuckle dripped venom. "After all we've been through, Renee, it does seem a shame that it would end this way. So unspectacular, so mundane. . .wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't know, in the spotlight or out, dying is dying," she replied. Renee made sure she stared him in those dark, malevolent eyes, showing no fear of her own.

His response was made casual by his tone, adding to sickening atmosphere of the destruction that was the Resistance Lair. "I, uh. . .I always saw your demise playing out in Prime Time, not some pit halfway through the center of the earth." Ever so slowly he walked toward her.

She watched the man with the gun trained on her, her mind running a mile a minute. When she'd first met him, Ronald Sandoval had been a mere Taelon stooge who, on occasion, had taken to his own self-serving agenda, but now. . .she doubted there was even a word for what he'd become. But she'd settle for 'madman'. And what was the best way to deal with a madman? Play along until he made a mistake.

"You could always take me out to the steps of the Capitol building, gun me down in broad daylight, I'm guessing that would draw a crowd." Her voice held an air of cockiness she didn't feel.she only hoped Sandoval didn't see through her.

Agonizingly slow, he continued towards her, pace steady. "I wanna play this out privately. Piece. . .by piece. . . ." His tone had lost its amusement.

Renee watched as Sandoval slowly raised the gun he held at her, getting a better aim at her shoulder - not a particularly vulnerable shot, especially considering the point-blank range. But this wasn't surprising to her; she had a feeling he wanted her death to be a slow, painful one. Now was the time she needed to act. She stared him straight, narrowed her eyes, and turned the corners of her mouth up into a small grin.

"You'd be proud of your son," she stated simply, thinking she was truthful in most respects. In Sandoval's twisted mind she suspected he'd always had grudging respect for the man who'd proven time and again to be a worthy adversary. "He's turned out nothing like you."

Renee watched as the former Companion Protector-turned-aspiring tyrant's eyes widened in shock, giving her the opening she needed to kick the gun out of his hand, subsequently knocking him to the metal grating of the catwalk; the gun sailed to the debris-strewn floor below. He got up quickly and launched an assault, getting a few good hits in, before Renee got the upper hand and slammed him against the railing. Hard. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, each knowing what the outcome was going to be.

One, if not *the*, most powerful weapons in a fighter's arsenal is the back kick. The power that can be generated from this one move alone is enough to knock someone out; if properly executed, a 150 pound girl can lay a 250 pound man flat on his back without breaking a sweat. . .*if* one can achieve the great deal of accuracy needed for this seemingly blind kick. Luckily for Renee, her aim was dead on.

Sandoval felt the blow to his solar plexus and a moment later he heard the air rush through his ears as he flew over the railing of the catwalk and down. Amazingly, the pain he felt came more from the cracking of his back when it hit the ground rather than the several metal rods he'd been impaled on. Renee quickly made her way down and over to him.

After a few choking tries, Sandoval finally croaked out, "I guess I spoke too soon." He took a shuddering breath. "You know I would have killed you. . ." another painful breath, "And not given it a second thought."

Renee stared at his dying form, no hint of malice, joy, relief, or any of the other emotions she would have expected to feel at Ronald Sandoval's impending death. An odd sadness filled her. . .sadness for this man who had secretly spent most of his career with the Taelons plotting against them to ensure Humanity's survival, albeit usually by malevolent means. In a way, she pitied him. "I know."

His breathing came harder with each breath; she could hear the sounds of fluid in his lungs - blood. "I'd do it all over again. In a heartbeat." Renee's expression did not falter, there was no surprise - she expected he'd say something like that. "So if anyone asks, I have. . .I have no regrets. For anything." Sandoval's voice had begun to waver and soften as he slowly rocked on the edge of sub-consciousness. ". . .Except. . . ."

Renee knew what he wanted, and despite her hatred for him, she was not one to refuse a man's last request. "His name," she began, her voice neutral. Renee made sure to pause significantly between her next words so he would fully comprehend what she was saying.

"Is Major." Renee watched as Sandoval's eyes once again widened in shock - there could only be one *Major* she was talking about.

"Liam." That shock turned into confusion, and the barest hint of awe.

"Kincaid." Her final word was a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. Sandoval's features ever so slowly melted into understanding, and lastly to contentment and peace at finally having an answer.

Renee watched as very well the most influential enemy - and ally - the human race had ever seen slowly closed his eyes, ending his existence on this plane.

The End.