Aljun lifted his hand and shaped it into a loose gun, thumb pulling back before he flicked it forward.
"Pew."
Then again.
"Pew."
He aimed at Manhattan like he had done it too many times to count.
"That's your real problem," he said.
The river moved between them, dark and fast, but none of them looked at it now.
They looked where he pointed.
"Not the water," Aljun went on. "Them."
He lowered his hand, then lifted it again, slower this time, more deliberate, like he wanted them to see exactly where death would come from.
"Guards along the shoreline. Some up high. Some you won't see until you're already in range." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Snipers too. I don't doubt it."
Iyisha's gaze stayed on the skyline. Glass caught the last light. The buildings stood untouched, clean, like nothing had ever happened there.
"You get close," Aljun said, "they don't ask questions."
His finger tapped once in the air.
"They just shoot."
The words settled heavy.
