Tony and Genevieve, a Tangle of Bodies and Limbs, and Hortense

Genevieve is counting down to extraction in the cicophany of battle, five seconds tony, five, four, three. Tony can barely hear her because cutting through his spair and the pandemonium is a piercing belicos shriek. Out of nowhere, a furious mess of fur and unsheathed claws and bared teeth descends like a storm of lazer honed blades. The alliance doesn't allow weaponry for extraction jobs any more. Budgetary cutbacks. Once the ferbes join us, tony. Genevieve broadcast at maximum volume, her voice crackling with emotional static. We will be back and you will be avenged.