Outside, Aurora tore through the last line of defense without mercy.
Blood was smeared across her cheek, but her expression remained cold, untouched, as if violence was nothing more than a chore to her.
She swung her LMG one final time, mowing down the last of the snipers who had been foolishly hiding behind the scattered, bullet-riddled vehicles.
"Clear," she muttered under her breath, her voice steady.
Bishop walked over at a lazy pace, leaving behind a trail of bodies in his wake. A fresh cut marred his forearm, blood trickling down to his wrist, but he barely seemed to notice.
His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield—the corpses, the overturned vehicles, the blood pooling under the broken bodies—and then finally settled on her.
"Done already?" he asked with a crooked grin.
Aurora shrugged, almost bored. "Bit boring," she said casually, checking the ammunition left in her gun.
Bishop chuckled lowly. "You always say that," he teased.
