[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5q7P9ie.png[/img][/center]

[color=E1DAD0]"Bad luck, mostly. [i]C'est la vie[/i]."[/color]

Bad luck indeed, considering the fact that this was the second time she was attacked in two days. Either something big was going on or there was a complete failing in the safeties that the resistance once had. With the recognizable noise of goosestepping outside, Lilliane was at the ready. She pulled out a large kit from the front of her suit jacket. More specifically, a folded length of a thick, plastic-like fabric.

With the singer saying goodbye, Lilliane was the first to hit the deck. By the time Taras said excuse me, she had already unraveled the kit across the ground. With the table miraculously not colliding with her neck as she hunched over the kit, her brain was already formulating a plan. Unlike before, she could actually think. Wide open fields were not somewhere a spy did well in. No, she knew of close, urban environments. In front of her was a sewing kit filled with dozens of needles of varying sizes, tubes of glue, and thread. At this moment, she only cared about two things: the needles and the glue.

[color=E1DAD0]"So. American sports. You all know the game of [i]baseball[/i], right? Something the Yanks invented almost ninety years ago."[/color] Her hands were quickly at work, applying the quick-drying glue to the large sewing needles and smaller pins. [color=E1DAD0]"Well, MP40s have about 32 shots so as soon as that volley's done, we'll have about five seconds of safety. The point is,"[/color] she squeezed the glued needles together which formed some sort of rod of needles together, [color=E1DAD0]"I'm not too fond of—or skilled at—American sports myself, so someone else toss this at them when they reload."[/color]

She held out the cluster of needles in front of her.