[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qFC355N.png?2[/img][/center][hr][hr][right][sub][color=1a7b30][b]Location:[/b] Near the Dying Mistle @ The Ruined City[/color]     [color=A9A9A9]//[/color]     [color=007236][b]Date:[/b] February 23, 2057[/color]     [color=A9A9A9]//[/color]     [color=00746b][b]Time:[/b] 16:08[/color]     [color=A9A9A9]//[/color]     [color=0076a3][b]Interactions:[/b] none [/color][/sub][/right][hr][hr]

[color=7FFFD4][i]There are some things a person doesn't have to be told twice,[/i][/color] Lys thought as she whirled on the spot. They were instinctual, automatic survival behaviours, like "OMG run for your life." [color=7FFFD4][i]The problem,[/i][/color] she decided, as she frantically paused to strap her bow to the back of her wheelchair, [color=7FFFD4][i]is that my instincts are all wrong.[/i][/color] Even after four years as a paraplegic, her monkey brain still hadn't gotten the 'line down' memo and was still trying to send messages through a cable that was out. 

The Bomba lurched to the side, shuddering and flailing. Its 'head' was almost split in half at the mouth and the top flopped back disgustingly as it began to reform. Lysandra put hands to wheels and was starting to pick up speed when a piece of rubble snuck up on her and thumped beneath one of her caster wheels. She pitched to the side and swerved and, when she glanced down in front of herself, noticed that one of her feet had been jarred from its footrest and was dangling limply in front of her. 

The others blew past her, shooting concerned glances her way, but Lys shook her head tightly at them. She didn't [i]need[/i] anymore help even if, truly, she did. Instead, she let out a sigh of vexation, grabbed her leg as she was coasting, and shoved the errant foot back into place. The gigantic grime let out an ear-ripping howl and thrashed some more and, had she the ammunition, she'd have turned right around and done her damnedest to kill it, if only to protect Akaia's precious find. How the scientist yearned to have a crack at that mistle: a real, live specimen! 

Yet, she pushed that to the back of her thoughts. The next twenty meters were all dodging divots and bracing for rubble. Her chest heaved, her arms and shoulders burned with exertion, and she had to push herself further up into her seat twice. Then, just like that, she was in the clear and it was a nice, straight, gentle downhill. Lysandra's face lit up with a relieved smile and she more or less flew. The Tsar Bomba was well behind her now and had evidently decided that anything that could hurt it so badly was pointless to chase until it was fully recovered. By then, Lys had plans to be in a van, headed back to the Crows' Nest. She counted the others ahead of her and, eventually, far enough away and having to deal with some slightly trickier terrain, she scrubbed most of her speed and let herself coast, hands lightly on her wheels for 'just-in-case'. She reached up to brush a few sweaty locks of hair from her eyes and took a deep, satisfying breath, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the others who could no longer do the same. [color=7FFFD4][i]Mission accomplished,[/i][/color] she thought to herself. [i][color=7FFFD4]Now the [b]real[/b] work begins.[/color][/i] 
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