There are no tears. Decades of training, of programming, have prepared her for this exact scenario. Win someone over and put a bullet in their skull when the opportunity presents itself. It's not even the hardest kill she's had to make. That was her first. It's always the first.

After that? Everything gets easier with practice.

But where Natasha is often unreadable in the face right now she is anything but. Her guilt is evident in everything from her vitals to the way her jaw ticks staring back at Ghost. Her shoulders tremble ever so slightly for a moment before the spy takes a breath. She can't say what the plan is, and she can't stay here if she's going to walk away from this alive.

"Trust me. This was the only way." Natasha throws the spent shock pistol to the side and steals Blaze's sidearm off of her belt and tries not to look at the gaping hole and frying circuits that exists because of her. But by her hands, blood has been given. A life ended for Winter's tribute. One of Reynard's greatest foes, even.

Ghost is small and he knows to lay low. She has to get back to the convoy, or at least follow after it and pick up anyone who's been left behind.

Natasha doesn't waste any time in turning and running back for the tree line. Back to the others. Back to the fight.