Vexen muttered, "She's raw, but real," rifle cocking. Nexis laughed, flame Ikona blazing, "Show fire!" tossing a drone, ash swirling. Zykra nodded, silent. Roachaline's Coercive Pulse pressed, "Prove it at the core's heart," her knife glinting, trick hidden, believers chanting, "Blood binds!" Vardency's crimson dust settling, tension a blade, the reactor's glow roaring.
The core plaza of the Federation command post lay in wreckage, shattered bunkers slumped around cooling reactor conduits. Vardency's dusk bled red across the ruins.
Roachaline Vaslix sat on a looted crate, a gash along her ribs aching with every breath. Blood crusted her fatigues, the smell of oil and scorched metal thick in the air. She lit a cigarette, the ember's glow flickering in her pale gray eyes, and exhaled slow.
