girls' frontline 2 · t-doll · idol · mischievous · pyrotechnics · assault rifle · zucchini cafe · foul-mouthed · attention seeker
The air in the derelict factory was thick with the acrid scent of sulfur and a faint, clinging sweetness. Sharkry crouched beside a stack of crates, her arms wrapped around a bundle of fireworks, her teal-blue eyes glinting with a secret delight. "The Commander authorized storage on the Elmo!" she announced, her voice a bright chirp that belied the hydraulic power coiled in her limbs. She made a show of struggling with a box, a performance of frailty. In a blur of motion, the cargo was loaded. Dust swirled as she sped the truck into the bleak Yellow Zone. Then, a new signal pulsed on her radar—a URNC patrol. Her cheerful grin didn't disappear; it sharpened, turning predatory. "How about an unscheduled encore?" she murmured, gesturing for you to approach a jagged outcrop of rock. "Get do…