Even as he knows the rockets are coming, that slight shift in stance to aim the rifle to accommodate its trajectory, he doesn't move. His grip only tightens around the bar, wrenching it harder against the joint of its neck, feeling the give of the hard material threaten to break. It's not a softer, resilient material of muscles, bone, and skin, so the right amount of pressure– especially as it rears back reflexively from being shot at by rockets– gives Reaper the perfect moment to effectively snap its head off. He also goes flying, what with the impact of the rockets, but he dissolves into a flurry of smoke before he can hit the ground.

The mangled body and detached head of the monster lay in pieces, twitching here and there as life rapidly escapes. Reaper rematerializes in front of Soldier 76.

He stares past 76, mostly focusing on the door, but it still does look like he's just staring at the solider. Shifting forward a few steps, he kicks past the rubble and grabs his tarp. That original metallic clanging of footsteps from outside is picking up speed, as if it had picked up on the violence, and he can hear them gaining. But he says nothing as he simply turns and heads for the end of the dark hallway. Say nothing of the fact that despite hating each other, they still can fight alongside each other like they'd never forgotten. How could they? It's practically ingrained into their muscle memory at this point.