[attr="class","nikita"]What an idiot. This is all that Nikita thinks as he receives news that a compatriot has been captured. These feelings of annoyance only spike as he stares down at the holding area below. Typically, Nikita does not play the hero. He finds it to be an exercise in futility—a risky endeavor that only encourages foolish behaviors. But that woman down there is one of his informants.

A cigarette smolders in between his lips. Beneath his rolled-up sleeves, a few nicotine patches are plastered. Above them, a long shard of crystal jabbed out like a rocky blade. Visible only as a shifting in the late, an Intelleon perched on its tip. Her left finger was extended in a threatening gesture. This sniper’s ‘rifle’ shifted as she heard someone’s approach. Around that same time, a Houndstone pulled itself from the old man’s shadow.

The grave dog gave a single nod. “Well, that is fortunate.” It appeared the operations throughout this sector had left resources thin. “How many?” The Houndstone lifted five of his skeletal phalanges. Then, he drew a sketch of the ramshackle camp in front of them. Finally, he turned to face the partner he’d been assigned. A completely fruitless, undesired burden—he much preferred to work alone. But the League was insistent on the power of numbers and cooperation. Somehow still buying that committees were more efficient—an ironic fact when they were comprised of politicians.
A blur of a water bullet hit the stone wall a few inches from the approaching stranger’s head.

“Miss Valois, I presume?” With a brief glance between them, the ghoulish dog vanished just like his partner’s cigarette smoke.
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[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Galayne Valois