It was the pungent smell of burnt remains that Katarina was trying to save herself from when she pinched her nose and allowed herself to breath through her mouth. It didn’t take long, however, before she tasted the bitter flavor of death, which was like charcoal grilled meat only that it was more charcoal than meat. That and the contorted reality formed by the unusual concentration of Mist convinced her that they should be as quick as possible. Gather information then leave was the summary of a recon mission. But there was still one detail that they had yet to open – the opulent looking escape pod.

Lori detected the possibility of life, and she was usually correct in those things. However, to be honest, Kitty was not too worried about what or who was inside the pod, what kept her on the edge was the reason why the aircraft was on the ground in the first place. Besides, there were six capable WARDENS focused on the front. At least one of them should take care of their back side. With that reasoning in mind, Kitty turned away from what came to be the focal point of their mission just as Setzer commented about her teaching methods. With her back on him and her eyes up the sky, she gave him a thumbs up. It was actually Galahad’s methods – he taught her that trick. 

The night sky was calm and quiet save for the crackle of fire and the low hiss of metal yielding to the monster of a sword that Setzer wielded. It would be fine, she told herself. It would be over soon, the stench, the mist, the uneasy feeling of being on a real-life field mission for the first time. She hoped the Marshalls who asked for their papers earlier that night had already filed a report and that backup was on the way. 

Then a wave, like cold water washing over her body, went through her and made her gasp. It was followed shortly by a warning about Mist pocket which was cut short. Kitty quickly turned on her heel, taking two long strides towards the scene even before she knew what was happening. The unpleasant scent forgotten, her right arm stretched to one side as she willed a katana to materialize in her hand. 

Instinctively, the first person her eyes searched for was Lee, made sure his position was not compromised, before she turned her attention to the glimmering tendril of whatever that was. Setzer took care of it with a swing of his blade, but failed to anticipate a shadow, which Kitty also noticed not soon enough to warn her comrade. The two-hit combo subsequently brought the biggest of the all to the ground and landing on top of him was a girl screaming in Vangarian.  

Whatever the black-haired survivor said did not stop the WARDEN, only because she did not understand a word. Katarina’s Vangarian vocabulary was limited to just three phrases that she learned from Gideon and Zimmy, none of which was appropriate for the occasion. Muscle memory took over despite the increased pressure from the Mist. She stepped her right foot forward and was poised to throw the thin blade like a javelin. It had almost left her hand when Zimmy more or less limped to the front. 

[i]Shit![/i]

With all that she had, she willed the Mist to eat the blade whole. It vanished a few inches from her friend’s head. Thankfully. She could feel her blood pounding in her head as Lori’s voice screamed something at someone. It was a very near miss. Kitty could have been the first member of the squad who actually took a person’s life – a friend’s life. It was not a pleasant thought. 

Weaponless again, but not at all defenseless, she continued to Morander’s side then snaked an arm around the younger woman’s back to support her. “I got you this time,” she whispered, relieved. Then, frowning, she asked, “But, what did she say? Do I high five her?”

The Mist was not as tame as she would have wanted it. She felt it move in waves around them, not the calm soothing blanket of power, but a turbulent current like a river during a storm. She’d force it to bend to her will, but it never worked that way. Instead, Kitty prepared to draw her weapon once more and waited for the opportunity to use it. 

“There’s only one of you and seven of us,” she attempted conversion with the Vangar in a matter-of-fact tone using her mother tongue, not quite caring if the woman understood.