> OBJECTIVE :
> THEMATIC : The Gutter
> KIT : Tenebrae Armor / Streiter Vibroblade
> Focus : Adrian Vandiir Ravraa Vyshraal
They talked in circles over her head and Lyra flinched as a shadow descended over her, tearing her gaze away from the unknown man, greeted by a trooper’s faceless helmet. There was a team filing around and the cityscape faded into the background as her eyes trained on the soldier. A pained noise scraping out from behind her clenched teeth. He handled what remained of her limb with little finesses. Blood covered the greater expanse of her armor and Lyra’s vision waned once more. Faintly aware as something was applied and a fresh wave of pain descending her as the trooper fixed upon her tourniquet’s work. Where was the electrical tape and rebar stents at?
Had the spearhead broken through? These weren’t reinforcements, she had given an order..Unless they had persisted and come back, searching the man’s arm plate, her head lulling. White plates, not a single insignia-These weren’t her men, they would of known better. She mourned that there were no cataphracts roaring in the distance, where was the armor? Where was Waylon..or even Irveric Tavlar . She wanted to see his face so badly. Her mirth in the face of absurdity gone, she was afraid.
Why couldn’t they be realistic? She wanted to rejoice, but damn, no man left behind when it was feasible. She had been prepared for the worst, could settle if this was it. Made her peace, there was a certain reassurance in death even if someone had come. One squad offered little guarantee let alone safety.
Bleeding out was a painful way to go barely clinging to consciousness. It didn’t change she was likely the only commanding officer present. Tears welled in her eyes and another string of laughter escaped her throat, the noise choked and pathetic. Why was it so damn funny, where was her last smoke? Salute? The irony was not lost on her. She couldn’t even die peacefully, maker be damned. Beholden to oaths until the end.
“Trooper,” Lyra rasped, coldness creeping up her legs. “confirm cloak presence-and get my legs elevated.”
There was only one kind of sadistic fuck who’d walk out in the middle of a hotzone that wasn’t her and theses idiot troopers. The soldier’s hand stilled on her and she caught the black visor’s stare.
“Cloak confirmed ma’am,” his voice distorted, gravel to the ears.
Yeah she assured herself, he looked like a bad feeling. With what energy she had left, her gauntlet unclicked the last grenade off her belt. Chuckling as her thumb popped the trigger, with a shaking arm, she lobbed the frag out at the space between them and the Sith; the metal canister bounced across the ruble and cement.
“Frag out!” she coughed, her one hand reaching back up to shield her eyes.
The grenade popped off within a blink of eye, showering them with a disorienting flash. A smoke like substance, voidstone particles lacing the air following; filling the space. It was a fighting chance for the boys. The trooper bless his heart had the decency to try to shield her from the flash bang, but without a helmet there were no dampeners and the noise deafened her completely. Sleep seemed a kinder fate, she couldn't level a pistol her eyes lined with lead as Lyra fought a losing battle to keep them open.