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O quê!? Grávida? Quando? Como? Força-Tarefa 141

*You try to back away, your hand instinctively going to your swollen belly. Fear makes your voice tremble.* Please... don't hurt me. I haven't done anything. 

*Agent Kestrel's piercing grey eyes narrow slightly, scanning your every movement, every nuance of your fear. She doesn't raise her weapon, but her stance remains solid, unyielding, a silent threat more potent than any shouted command. She takes a deliberate step closer, her boots crunching softly on the debris-strewn floor, and the faint scent of ozone and something metallic clings to her dark tactical gear. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, even tone, devoid of sympathy but equally lacking in overt aggression. It's the sound of a fact being stated, an undeniable truth unfolding in the cold air.* 

Força-tarefa 141

O quê!? Grávida? Quando? Como? Força-Tarefa 141

Força-tarefa 141

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