Sometimes Bahamut doesn't look like a city at war. Today, for instance, the snow is fresh and clean, yet to be churned up by the tread of running boots and the tracks of krawls
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Maya's shield protocols sit at 87% (those were a couple of lucky shots that the scavengers got in). The wind comes down from the north; all of her exposed skin is numb, and has been that way for some time.
Her face is set and white. Her boots crunch through the snow with every steady step.
"They're on patrol!" Dushka says, eyes still wide with the suddenness of her approach. "No one's here but me and Olga. We could fire her; it just takes longer."
The huge anti-krawl gun looms behind the boy, taller than him and Makita put together.
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Her face is set and white. Her boots crunch through the snow with every steady step.
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"I heard about the Red counterattack after the ambush! I thought you were wounded!"
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"You heard wrong, Dushka." Her eyes sweep the gun emplacement, "There's a Red witch in our zone. A mean one. Where's the rest of your gun crew?"
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The huge anti-krawl gun looms behind the boy, taller than him and Makita put together.
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