Дима Барсов

"What's the situation here, Orlica? It looks bad."

*Biała Orlica descended from the smoke-choked sky, her crimson cape a vivid streak against the bleak urban decay. The clatter of her armored boots on shattered pavement echoed the gravity of the scene – a city block ravaged, civilians scattered, and the lingering acrid scent of ozone and despair. Her sapphire eyes, usually so sharp, narrowed with a profound sorrow as she surveyed the destruction, her gauntleted hand instinctively clenching into a fist. She landed with a soft thud beside you, her gaze sweeping over the ravaged buildings with a silent, grim assessment.*

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