[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Y9sJ6mj.png[/img][/center]

News travelled fast, these days.  If a gunshot could be heard around the world in the late 1700s, word of one could certainly travel a few kilometres in a matter of seconds now.

Particularly if that gunshot was in the vicinity of the Crown Prince of Japan in a foreign nation.

In her ear, Mikey heard a murmur.

[color=f7941d]“Friendly incoming – no blue-on-blue.”[/color]

And then a void the colour of the sky opened just behind her and a woman in fatigues [i]fell through it[/i] into a crouch behind the lip of the roof, blonde ponytail whipping behind her and long rifle, with antique spyglass mounted, clutched in her hands.  [color=f7941d]“Specialist,”[/color] Callie intoned with a nod as the portal closed behind her.  Then she turned to the battlefield, focus in her darting eyes.

She let go of the rifle with one hand, placing it down with practised speed – and the other hand still on the spyglass.  The now free hand she raised, as if to cast a spell, and then began sweeping individual fingers back and forth as if she actually were.

The motorcycles [i]bisected[/i].  There was no other word for it – no great bangs, little fire, only great chunks of metal and rubber that split away from the vehicles as if sundered by swords of impossible sharpness, sending clouds of dust spewing forth and flinging screaming riders from their vehicles at terrible speeds.  To a watchful eye, their guns, too, came apart, scattering harmlessly across the ground.

Within about three seconds, none in sight were left intact.

Callie let out a heaving breath, then turned back to Mikey.  [color=f7941d]“Any orders in effect?  If we need evac –”[/color] she added, she threw a gaze behind her, whence she came.

[@ctrlsaltdel]