[The camp is not unfamiliar with having to pack up and leave on such short notice, but Angela can tell the energy feels different this time- the realization that she come to back in the tent, that they were dealing with a new enemy, is quickly spreading. Parents hurry by her with their hands tight over the mouths of squirming children, a sudden burst of nearby gunfire causing a young mother to topple to the ground with a panicked cry.]
All of you, this way. [She helps the trembling woman to her feet and hurries the small crowd back towards the rear exit of the camp. They've nearly reached the gates- thankfully, the enemy hadn't made it that far- when the camp's lights suddenly go out, plunging them all into darkness.
Angela barely flinches among the panicked screams- up ahead she can see the large transportation vehicle normally used for cargo. There's a flutter of relief when she recognizes the vague outline of a colleague, who frantically begins to wave at the sight of her wings.]
Go, go! [She herds the panicked group onward, only following when she's sure everyone has made it. With the light from the vehicle spilling out into the darkness, she's relieved to see that the wounded were already being loaded on board. A boy no older than the one from the mess hall stands nearby, a gun clutched in his shaking hands.]
I'll do one more sweep, and then I'm headed to the front. And get those doors closed, or find a way to turn off those blasted lights. We'll meet at the rendezvous point.
[It's all a little too familiar. Angela smoothly turns on her heel and flies off into the night, her staff clutched in her hands. Below her the camp is nearly impossible to make out, save for the occasional lantern or discarded flashlight. There's a risk, she knows, to flying out in the open like this, but she takes care to never stay still.
She circles around the camp, and it's not until she's about to steer herself towards where most of the fighting is that she realizes how odd this all was. Nobody had tried to fire at her even once, and she knows they had to have spotted her. A sudden chill shoots up her spine-a sneaking suspicion, or did it suddenly get colder?
She sees it then, out of the corner of her eye: the subtlest of movements from a guard tower, almost like the creeping of a spider. Something red peers out at her from the darkness and she flinches before the shot's even fired.
Her right wing explodes in a shower of sparks and metal, and Angela suddenly sags in the air. Panic takes hold of her as she struggles to stay afloat, but the damage is too much for the suit and she tumbles back to the ground.
There's an unpleasant sound as her head collides with something hard- she gasps and clutches at the wound, her hand coming away sticky with blood. Cursing, she tries to use her staff to pull herself up, but it's too cold, numbing her down to the bone. Around her the sounds of gunfire and screams fade away into an unsettling nothingness. As the shadows begin to creep towards her, she barely manages to wonder if the sniper had missed after all.]
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All of you, this way. [She helps the trembling woman to her feet and hurries the small crowd back towards the rear exit of the camp. They've nearly reached the gates- thankfully, the enemy hadn't made it that far- when the camp's lights suddenly go out, plunging them all into darkness.
Angela barely flinches among the panicked screams- up ahead she can see the large transportation vehicle normally used for cargo. There's a flutter of relief when she recognizes the vague outline of a colleague, who frantically begins to wave at the sight of her wings.]
Go, go! [She herds the panicked group onward, only following when she's sure everyone has made it. With the light from the vehicle spilling out into the darkness, she's relieved to see that the wounded were already being loaded on board. A boy no older than the one from the mess hall stands nearby, a gun clutched in his shaking hands.]
I'll do one more sweep, and then I'm headed to the front. And get those doors closed, or find a way to turn off those blasted lights. We'll meet at the rendezvous point.
[It's all a little too familiar. Angela smoothly turns on her heel and flies off into the night, her staff clutched in her hands. Below her the camp is nearly impossible to make out, save for the occasional lantern or discarded flashlight. There's a risk, she knows, to flying out in the open like this, but she takes care to never stay still.
She circles around the camp, and it's not until she's about to steer herself towards where most of the fighting is that she realizes how odd this all was. Nobody had tried to fire at her even once, and she knows they had to have spotted her. A sudden chill shoots up her spine-a sneaking suspicion, or did it suddenly get colder?
She sees it then, out of the corner of her eye: the subtlest of movements from a guard tower, almost like the creeping of a spider. Something red peers out at her from the darkness and she flinches before the shot's even fired.
Her right wing explodes in a shower of sparks and metal, and Angela suddenly sags in the air. Panic takes hold of her as she struggles to stay afloat, but the damage is too much for the suit and she tumbles back to the ground.
There's an unpleasant sound as her head collides with something hard- she gasps and clutches at the wound, her hand coming away sticky with blood. Cursing, she tries to use her staff to pull herself up, but it's too cold, numbing her down to the bone. Around her the sounds of gunfire and screams fade away into an unsettling nothingness. As the shadows begin to creep towards her, she barely manages to wonder if the sniper had missed after all.]