[center][h3]Ziska[/h3][/center]

Distracted by the sight of the salvaged Catapult, Ziska had found herself thoughtlessly lining up next to Marit. Her eyes were still full of warmth as she tore her gaze away from the welcome sight of the recovered Heavy mech.

"Why, Giggles, I will have you know I am very likable, too likable. In fact, I believe you may be experiencing the early symptoms of infatuation."

Ziska laughed, making no effort to hide her humor. Fresh welts that would soon turn into bruises didn't matter. Another cut above her eye didn't matter. Her battered knuckles didn't matter. They were alive. Still Alive. And they would another Heavy mech to use.

Soon. Soon enough the Crimson Fists would be paying with more blood and more, much more steel.

"Besides, cheer up!" Ziska began pointing at the Catapult laid out on the bed of the truck as if momentarily resting.

"We've got a Catapult! A couple of lashes isn't gonna change that."