Kiara was mostly quiet, letting the others talk as she enjoyed the outdoor air. It reminded her of the nights she spent lurking in the shadows, watching deals go down and waiting for something to go wrong so she could raise a little hell. It was a strange sort of peace, the same kind of liminal space as the moments before a tornado touches down.
The only comment she made was in response to the idea of meeting some gunmen, “Wouldn’t be ideal, but it sure would be a good time.”
She disregarded the kind of picture her remark painted about the stability of her mental state. After weeks of nothing, she was antsy to get into some action, and her comrades in arms would just have to deal with that.
Almost as if on cue, there was a resounding boom in the distance. She snapped into action without wasting a moment, pulling her gun from its holster and diving for cover. She knew full well her little pistol wouldn’t do any good against a mortar, but it was her first reflex.
With sharp eyes, she scanned the area for other attackers, considering the possibility that the shells were a distraction.
Her gun felt in her hands like a key in a lock, and everything fit into place. Her face broke out into a grin, and her eyes flashed with a macabre glee.
She murmured to herself, “Hello, tornado.”
