Consequences of Pragmatism

[Keva]

[SIZE=11pt]The rare treat of offtime had graced Keva again, the slaughtering of the Imperials on Arkham has all but entirely given that gift to her. She was rather proud of her work there, it had been ruthlessly efficient in utterly annihilating any grip the Imperials could have gained on the ground: of course, there were those who very much [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]not[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] pleased with how Keva had operated herself on the planet. More particularly, unleashing an airstrike on an Imperial controlled warehouse...which may have had a handful of Confederates in it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Keva had seen nothing wrong with it, and instead continued on with her normal day during offtime: heading off to the military training chambers, practicing either her marksmanship with her sidearm or instead swinging her “Lightsaber” around in some attempt to understand the weapon to enough of an extent to make it an actually useful tool in combat. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The latter was what Keva had chosen today, the blade of the “stolen” Sith weapon slashing through holographic enemies; the same repetitive motions repeated dozens of times. Hunting for a self taught perfection, not quite the wisest thing she could be doing but it was what she had chosen. Stuck in her own little world of a swinging blade and frustrations over her own inabilities. Of course, the Chiss had been entirely unaware that those who had been so displeased with her actions on Arkham had ended up having little issue finding her within her predictable schedule.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Scherezade deWinter"] @Razelle Breuer[/SIZE]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Ho. Hooooooooooooooooooo. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Scherezade was pissed. She had returned the previous night from the mission on Arkham, parking the Giggledust in her usual spot in the Citadel's dock yard. Her stomping around the ship could be heard five ships away. She had, to date, been on over one hundred missions in the span of little over a year. Sure, she wasn't exactly herself on some of them, but at present, she needed to add those to her count. Because in not. A. Single. One. Of. Them. Did she have to deal with what she'd dealt with on Arkham.

What had she dealt with? There was a warehouse. A warehouse they knew about only because she had done the deed and licked the blood of an enemy to find it, to discover where it was. So she'd led her team there with the full intent of emptying it out, grabbing the impies, seeing if there was more information they could get, and all of that. Y'know, the usual. Well, the usual with a bunch of Blood Hound abilities thrown into the mix to show off, but still, the usual.

And then the karktards… They had to evacuate the second they'd stepped in, because someone thought it was a grand idea to bombard it from the air. There had been friggin' TORPEDOES! And now, a while after the ordeal had ended, after she'd nearly lost her apprentice and a new recruit, Scherezade was fuming.

It was a small act of mercy that she still had a few contacts, was able to find out who it was that had given the order.

"RAZELLE!" Scherezade screamed into her comlink, "I KNOW WHO DID IT! I'M GOING TO PUNCH HER IN THE FACE! AND MAYBE STAB HER!"

Scherezade breathed. Paused. Breathed again. "Wanna come with? I can wait a bit if you're not in Golbah City."

[member="Keva"] [member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

"Seventeen."

In a dark alley beneath some form of dormant industrial machinery, somewhere in Sprawl, a Geonosian shook its head.It clicked back something unintelligible - if it had been Huttese or even Binary, Raz would have been fine - and gesticulated wildly. If not for the translation program on her databracer, she wouldn't have had a single idea that she was being haggled with. <"Twenty. This comes at great risk.">

Oh yeah, she bet it did. Everything always came "at great risk" when you were discussing price. Razelle crossed her arms and leveled a slightly less amused glare at the bug-person in front of her. She needed this guy to trust her at least as far as her brand spankin' new credit account would allow, so violence wasn't the best course of action. Not that it wasn't a course of action, mind. She'd gladly fry this gross bastard if he gave her sufficient reason. Right now, though, haggling wasn't sufficient reason.

"I saw four other guys on the way here. My guess is you don't have anything close to a monopoly." Her expression remained resting bitch face. "Eighteen, or I take it up with one of them."

With a grumbling, clicking noise that her datapad translated as a rather creative string of profanity, the Geonosian practically thrust a somewhat slimy case into her arms. Razelle cracked it open and, discounting the rather disgusting smell, gave a quick nod to the contents. This was worth her money. From her duffel, she produced eighteen hundred-credit sticks and dropped them into the greedy bug's waiting claws. He didn't even take the time to count them before buzzing off. Literally.

Before she had a chance to inspect her exchange more closely, Scherezade came over their private comm channel. She was frantic, half angry and half excited. That seemed...pretty standard, all things considered. With a sigh, Raz tried to ignore her own smirk as she tapped her ear. "Yeah, kiddo, I'm available." Thirty meters later, she saw one of the Ministry's little gofer droids, opened its casing, and put her spoils inside. "Fringe sector. I'll send you the coordinates. Was it the Chiss girl?"

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

"What do you mean you're sending me the coordinates?!" Scherezade shot right back, "yes, it was the Chiss girl, and yes, she's at the Citadel right now. Where I'm waiting. I'm sending you the coordinates!"

Punching the address into the comdevice, Scherezade sent everything that was needed for Razelle to get there in… Fifteen minutes? If there was no traffic. And driving speed was slightly over the limit. Okay, maybe twenty minutes. Twenty five, because there was a good chance that the taxi would get pulled over because it attempted to get there in fifteen.

Actually… Thirty seemed like a better estimate. Because it was a cab and it was going to waste time stopping over to try to get other passengers in for double fare and the driver would be too dumb to realize in under five minutes that when Razelle threatened his life, she actually meant it.

Maybe fourty? Because you had to take a buffer, right?

Still angry, and now also huffy and puffy, Scherezade sank to the ground and leaned against the wall. She hated waiting.

[member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Keva"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Oh yeah. That was about right. It'd been a couple of times now that Razelle had seen her on the hunt, and every time, Scherezade was a different beast entirely. Energetic. Focused. She reminded Raz of herself when she was... well, a very long time ago. Now? Decades hence? There wasn't much left of that young warrior itching to prove herself. No matter what her body said she could do, her spirit just wasn't in it. It was nigh-on invigorating watching Scherezade do her thing.

Positional coordinates. Yep. Citadel command structure. Looked to be somewhere along the upper floors. It'd take her a few minutes to get there, but it'd be far slower if she did it legally. Local law enforcement would ping her speeder if she started zipping about in a random, chaotic, dangerous flight path. To curtail that, she tapped her datapad a few times to set her Ministry ID to broadcast to any party who scanned her. Rook-level clearance would be more than enough to get them off her case.

Aaaand also probably more than enough for them to overlook the part where she just walked up to a parked airspeeder and pulled out some antisecurity blades to slice it right open. Cord here goes to port there, wire here loops in on itself, and flick... Hotwiring wasn't terribly different between different models, though she'd had to update her understanding of civilian security systems a few years back.

Razelle slung herself into the pilot's seat, dropped her bag into the passenger seat, and kicked it in gear. With a scream, the engine blasted her forward, and she very likely would've crashed something if she hadn't pulled up. Barely scraping over the tops of the Sprawl's taller buildings, Raz made the best time she could with a jailbroke civilian transport. Twelve minutes didn't seem like a bad idea.

She'd tripped at least a dozen traffic sensors by the time she touched down next to Scherezade's location on the upper Citadel. The ragged machine she'd worn half to collapse whined as she killed the engine. As the cockpit hissed open, Raz tossed her bag out first, then hopped out after it, her combat boots squeaking across the plasteel floor. She lit up a stimstick as she approached, and gave her slimmest smile. "Sorry for the wait."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Twelve minutes seemed like hours. After three minutes Scherezade wasn't even sure she would survive the full forty minutes she'd budgeted for Razelle's arrival. It was childish and juvenile, yes, and more often than not Scherezade had iron patience when on missions and doing things. But this time it was different. This time it was personal. It was one thing when her own team members did stupid things that endangered them. Force, she'd been the one to do the stupid thing on more than one occasion, earning herself the title of best pin cushion in the 'verse.

But it was quite another thing when the things happened not inside her actual team, in a way that put her actual team in danger. They'd all signed up to do the reckless, the dangerous stuff. But there was a wide difference between that and almost getting torpedo's because someone else thought thirty seconds were enough to clear them out. What if they had been mid-fight when the warning had come? There would have been utterly no way to get even half the team out and alive if that had happened.

When Raz showed up, in twelve minutes instead of forty, Scherezade jumped to her feet and launched herself at the woman, giving her a strong hug.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on," she said as she grabbed her hand and half dragged her inside.

Scherezade knew the layout of the Citadel like the back of her hand. How many hours she'd spent there, walking the halls, figuring out what was connected to what. On more than one occasion she'd even fooled guards and droids to get to areas she shouldn't have been getting to. But now did not seem like the right time to tell Raz about it. There were microphones everywhere.

A few turns here, a few more turns there, and they were in front of the training rooms, where Scherezade knew that [member="Keva"] was.

She kicked forward without mercy, almost shattering the doors, and stomped right in.

"You!"

[member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Keva"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Honestly, of all things in Golbah, the Citadel had to be Razelle's least favorite place to be. It was too... official. Everything was ceremony. There were too many rules, too much control. Whenever she rounded a corner, she found more uniforms. Not really the healthiest environment for a fugitive from at least one of the state's allies, and doubly so when she was trailing on Scherezade's coattails. Apparently, the girl had quite the reputation for exceptionally bad decisions.

She could sort of see it as Scherezade deWinter kicked a pneumatic door.

The room inside was some kind of little sparring room. Holographics. No contact. Might have been meant more for Forcies than for real soldiers, then. They didn't normally need physical feedback, and the room was too small to be a live-fire range. Empty, except for the two women who just burst in unannounced, and the one they were bursting in on. Raz checked for cameras immediately; at least four, not including any they'd concealed. They'd have to be careful here. Any violence would be recorded and reported. Depending on just how Sith the local hierarchy was, it might be seen as anything from irresponsible criminal.

Her eyes eventually settled on the Chiss, and she froze in place. She was short, and her face was...young. Very young. That might have been gene therapy. Why hadn't Razelle noticed this in her initial check? Tapping her bracer, she frowned at the results. "A kid?" Keva'sol'loro. Sixteen years old. They'd given a teenager access to heavy ordinance, and somehow had the gall to be shocked - shocked - when she misused it.

As quickly as her dander had gotten up over being bombed, it was soundly tempered by reality. Her stomach practically turned when she realized she'd walked into this room utterly prepared to murder a child. Razelle could practically feel her priorities shifting.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Keva"]

 

[Keva]

Keva's blade work was remarkably sloppy, using the Lightsaber as though it were her Vibroknife and not the bizarrely weightless weapon it truly was. But, viciously long practice sessions should have that fixed: or so the Chiss assumed, she had seen just how brutally effective these tools could be in waging war and gaining the upper hand in personal combat. The latter she had been painfully lacking, even with her extensive training during the CEDF days.

Though, soon the door burst open and a vaguely familiar sounding voice boomed into the Chiss woman's little alcove. The lightsaber deactivated with a snapping hiss and soon the jagged and ugly hilt returned to it's place on her belt, her hand subtly moving to click on a translator she had also added into her small little arsenal of equipment. With a cool calmness that was all but stereotypical of a Chiss, the relatively small woman turned on her heel to the face the two: acting in though not a thing in the world was wrong.

Though calling her young was an...interesting...notion, she was indeed young in comparison to humans and their far slower biology: she had the eyes of a commander, oozing that notion of the organic tactical droid she was raised to be: the two were studied with quick glances and little more, and the true marks of her years as a veteran of CEDF were the three jagged scars that ran down the side of her face: a gift from her mortal rivals, the Vagaari. Muttering Cheunh, the translator quickly shifted into a rather robotic and monotonous basic.

"Is there something you require?"

Ah, that's where she remembered the loud one from. Arkahm. The voice seemed familiar.

[member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The age of the Chiss in question meant nothing to Scherezade. She herself was barely above a year and a half officially old at this point, and she had fought against and alongside children more than once in the short amount of time that had passed since she'd come out of the pebble. Scherezade knew, very deeply, that just because they were kids, did not mean they were not lethal, and not always because of stupidity or innocence. Give a person a toy to do damage with, and most people would go for maximum damage. The main difference often lay in how they spread said maximum damage out.

So while Razelle's priorities were shifting, Scherezade's were most certainly not.

And the Chiss… Had the gall to ask her if she required anything. Scherezade wasted little time as she closed the distance between them, the Force rising around her. "You gave the order to bombard the building my squad was in!" she growled at the little blue woman, "You gave us thirty seconds to get out!" she added.

Electricity began to cackle around Scherezade's fists. "Do you even realize that friendly fire isn't friendly at all?!"

[member="Keva"] [member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Well now. If Raz didn't do something to slow Scherezade's roll, they might wind up with a super fun and super interesting "fleeing from legal proceedings for murder charges" scenario. Which, honestly, wasn't that out of the ordinary for her, and she'd assume not for Scherezade either. But for once, Raz had a good thing goin' here and she really didn't want to ruin it before she squeezed everything she could out of it.

Plus, kid. Like, who the hell gave a 16-year-old command over a friggin' bomber flight? She'd need to have one hell of a word with the idiots in charge of this ramshackle military. It wasn't that she was adverse to child soldiers - an epoch ago, she'd been the one forging her information to get in and Fight The Good Fight - but you didn't give them any position that they could do damage with. Analyst. Communications. Logistics. That sort of thing. Not command. For frig's sake, even some wunderkind genius was still unbelievably stupid the second they got their hands on explosives.

Raz would know. She was an expert at doing stupid shit with explosives.

Stepping forward, she put a hand on Scherezade's shoulder. "A strike team was already in the area," she said to the Chiss while facing Scherezade. She was trying to convey "hey maybe let's take this a little slower," but Scherezade had the remarkable ability to shut off her hearing when it suited her. The blonde's attention quickly turned properly to Asoll. "A relatively elite strike team, with multiple Dauntless and Obsidian members. If it was easy enough for me to find records of that, then it would have been a matter of two taps on a datapad for you."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Keva"]

 

[Keva]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Crossing her arms over her chest, Keva kept that same blank face. Fitting with just how utterly monotonous the translator was, it was truly a wonderful experience: finally she had a chance to articulate her thoughts and ideas to at least one person with a brain. The other one? Not entirely sure, it seemed practice in her old CQC training would end up being necessary. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]She looked back into her memory, a brief moment of thought before the translator hummed and spoke again.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]“I was unaware of the current location of said team, and do not recall being informed of it’s entrance into the Imperial strongpoint. I took the wisest course of action for a swift defeat of the Imperial presence, and to prevent them from regrouping.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]What a moron. Calling in support from the army and not waiting for the obvious heavy ordinance that would’ve annihilated the targeted area. Of course, Keva never actually voiced those thoughts. Far better to remain cordial. [/SIZE]

[member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Raz's hand on her shoulder was meant to calm her down, but Scherezade was more or less ready to bite that hand off with the swirl of not-so-pleasant emotions that were running through her right there and then.

"Not informed?!" she growled at the Chiss, "Not informed?! I was the one who updated people about the warehouse's existence. I was the one leading a squad into it. You were not supposed to personally be informed, you were supposed to check!"

Moving Raz's hands off her shoulder, Scherezade turned to the side and punched the wall. Her hand went cleanly through, breaking whatever it was that it was made of. Sure, her knuckles were bleeding now, but if it seemed to cause her any concern, it wasn't showing on her face.

"Your actions could have damaged not only the warehouse, but the civilians that were still caught around it. Did you even check that?!" came the next question. Force. Now Scherezade didn't really want an answer. No one really cared about the civilians. No one that mattered anyway. "There is protocol for doing those sort of stuff. You broke it."

Was she most definitely making it up now? Maybe. Maybe not.

[member="Keva"] [member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Keva]

Keva remained stone faced, it would take more than some angry runt to actually incite some reaction of pure indignant rage within her.

"Correct, I was uninformed. I was told of the Warehouse's existence, and while under suppressing fire I fulfilled my role as a commander and made the choices necessary to secure our victory in the most time efficient manner."

What a brute. She looked to the new hole in the wall, a powerful brute. Maybe if they weren't enemies at the end of the coming months she would have to understand how to harness that power for more military applications. But the current matter was infinitely more important than plotting her progression through the Confederacy's ranks.

"My actions were intended to all but annihilate the warehouse, the immediate vicinity where the Imperials were present, and any of the hostiles inside. I do not make choices that are not calculated, understand that. There is a demand of blood for every victory, if there still civilians around the warehouse: so be it. It is a regrettable casualty, but the Imperial ground presence needed to be eliminated as swiftly as possible as to prevent them from regrouping, it would not be hard to retreat forces away from a handful of rambunctious commando forces."

Maybe she smiled, very briefly before speaking. Something that if you blinked it would easily be missed, then the Chiss woman spoke again after her pause.

"Protocol is guidelines. Sometimes the book must be thrown aside in the name of victory."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Cold and dispassionate. Just like a Chiss. Razelle allowed herself a bit of prejudice; she'd worked with the species before, and while they made pretty decent armchair generals, they weren't worth the trouble most of the time. Arrogance, stubbornness, and a total lack of empathy were as ubiquitous to every red-eyed blueberry in the galaxy as they were disqualifying qualities for a commanding officer. But then again...those were all pretty common traits for Sith, too. Gods, why did the galaxy conspire to put people fundamentally unfit for command in positions of authority? Raz didn't put any stock in this "will of the Force" nonsense she'd heard for most of two lives now, but every once in a while she was offered something just shy of evidence that it might be a thing.

An awful, cruel, senseless thing that had turned the galaxy into a crater-blasted hellscape for thousands of years.

Right, though. Focus. Razelle was - somehow - the ego in this debate of superego vs id. She crossed her arms, took a deep breath, and leveled a moderate gaze at Asoll. "Casualties happen, and there's no overkill in a warzone. That logic tracks," she began simply, utterly ignoring Scherezade's outburst. "From that purely logical perspective, then, it makes a lot of sense to blow an unknown, fortified position apart with CAS. After all, why not destroy any X-factor with overwhelming force before its unknown capabilities create a greater problem?"

A slow plume of stimsmoke blew from her lips. Shaking her head, the blonde continued. "But that's not all your responsibility entails." Responsibility, not 'job' or 'position.' "Authority over a ton of hardware and mechanical soldiers brings with it an expectation that you'll do what you see to be in the best interests of the Confederacy and our efforts in a specific operation." She took another slow drag on her stim, her eyes clearly bloodshot with all of the sleep the damn things had caused her to miss. Oh yes, she'd need to crash preeeetty soon.

"What's in the best interests of the Confederacy is normally 'victory,' but it's rarely 'victory at any cost.' As a result, it's your responsibility as an officer to achieve success by as many measures as possible; objective, logistical, and practical." Her eyes trailed away for a moment to see if there was a mouse droid access hatch nearby, then flicked the remainder of her stimstick over towards it. The little droid beeped out immediately to address the mess while Razelle's eyes returned to Asoll's. "A good commander needs to use every resource at her disposal to achieve the greatest degree of success. Droids and bombs are the final resources you're likely to use, but the first - before you commit to any expenditure of resources - is to review all presented intelligence to formulate the course of action possible."

She was surprised Major Earhardt's voice wasn't coming out of her mouth. She was practically conducting a seance with how many dead people were speaking through her right now.

[member="Keva"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Keva]

There was a pause in Keva, obviously that had sparked enough in that seemingly cold and dead heart to make it think for a moment. Or she merely was pondering the most suitable rebuttal.

[SIZE=11pt]“Logic is an eternal asset in the application of efficient warfare. When it becomes poisoned by bias and emotion the room for error increases, without becoming detached nothing would be accomplished in a warzone like Asulon City.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Maybe it was a statement, maybe she merely needed to reassure herself, or maybe it was just another toss of the philosophy of the strange Chiss woman. Either way, she waited little time before continuing.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Was the operation not a success? Were the Imperials not crushed, and their invasion forces scattered and broken under our iron boot? Did I not devote all my remaining resources to an all but hopeless search and rescue operation in that burning hellhole?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]After her small outburst of rhetorics, she breathed in, returning to the cold calculating mass that she had been prior.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I do not recall being given the luxury of being able to review all information, a handful of snipers had been rather focused on the task of leaving my head a smoldering mass. I worked merely with what I was provided. Though, I had already assumed you Commandos would’ve survived even if you did reach the warehouse.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Intuition, experience, a hunch, maybe basic deduction. She had her misgivings about how they handled the warehouse, and of course their annihilation wasn’t the intent. But it wouldn’t be that easy, it never was with those sorts.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"][/SIZE]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

As [member="Keva"] spoke, Scherezade became very still. There was a trait that ran through many members of her family; when they were being loud, when they were screaming, the people around them could most often assume that they were still in control, that they would do little to nothing without proper warning beforehand. But when they became silent, when the iciness felt almost tangible by those around them, including those who were not attuned to the Force, that was when the situation became dangerous for whoever it was that was targeted by it.

And Scherezade became more and more icy by the moment, the glow of her eyes hyper focused on the Chiss female, and the more she spoke of efficiency and victory, the colder the Sith became. Not even the words of her godmother could serve to give the flimsiest hint of warmity to her stature, to her being in that moment.

It was obvious that the Chiss would not be admitting to making a miscalculation, to making a mistake. Schereade had faced many types like that before. The Confederacy's leadership was shock-full of such people, though most of them also used the nepotism to keep their butts covered. As far as she knew, Keva was not a close friend or a blood relative of those in charge, but Scherezade knew the Confederacy intimately enough to know that despite this, she would probably be heralded. Those who did not care about the people were always those placed on top, whereas those that had to double and triple work to undo their mistakes were kept in their places.

"Yes," Scherezade said coldly and quietly, her voice detached of any emotion, so unlike herself, so unlike what [member="Razelle Breuner"] was used to hearing from her, "we did survive."

And without warning, Scherezade's right hand punched forward, her fist aiming directly for Keva's intestines.

 

[Keva]

[SIZE=11pt]She could almost feel the room drop a few degrees colder, but such a thing didn’t concern the Chiss much. The cold was comfortable compared to the usual scorching rays that Geonosis gave to those who inhabited it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Alas, it was not mere cold that had come with it. It was violent intentions, it didn’t take a genius to see that. Keva was not a skilled conversationalist, nor inherently the most socially inclined. But this did not stop her from seeing the impending danger, even without the soft itching of the force telling her something was wrong.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And so, the silent zealot that was Keva merely waited for whenever the senseless violence would arrive.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And arrive it did, thankfully it was mere CQC. Showing that, shockingly, she was more than just a heartless tactical droid made from flesh and bone the Chiss rather nimbly side-stepped. She hadn’t forgotten the basic training from the CEDF nor that which a friend long abandoned had gifted to her as well. But there would be no fight, not yet. She was greater than that.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]At least, so Keva assumed she was better than the brute attacking her.[/SIZE]

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Razelle Breuner"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Of course the smurf had sidestepped. But Scherezade had expected that; after all, that was why she'd gone for her with her right hand. While ambidextrous, when it came to fighting and brute Force, her forte was in her left hand. And that was the hand that shot out at the same time as the side step.

As she did so, two of her knives slid from beneath her clothes, rising into the air, sharp edges all pointed at the female who almost cost her her entire squad just because she couldn't be bothered to check things before deciding to release a full bombardment.

[member="Keva"] [member="Razelle Breuner"]