Giving Feral a nod of thanks for covering her, Dragoon yanked her spear out of the armored drone she had ran through, twirling it back around to a ready stance as she moved ahead with the rest of the fireteam.

Several minutes later, Dragoon had quickly decided that guns were bullshit. She scowled as she took cover, ducking under the withering hail of suppressive fire that was pinning the entire team down. Considering that her home nation didn't share a border with Laterano, anti-firearm tactics hadn't been covered that extensively, with the general consensus that they were just faster-firing crossbows with less of a punch. Even still, ten of these trained on her would shred her in a matter of seconds.

Thank fuck for Thrones, at least. At the Sankta's declaration, Dragoon simply buzzed her comm. 

[b]"Ten seconds to eliminate them, roger. On your go, Thrones!"[/b]

The instant the Art went off, Dragoon burst out from cover, leaping up before plunging down towards one of the gun drones. Hopefully, she'd pierce right through it, come up in a roll, and immediately move on to another while the Art was still active.