Quote Originally Posted by Esprit15 View Post
As the Shroud unfolds the quadcopter, a familiar voice speaks up from the van. ”You train with all of these?” Right behind her, Sarah can be seen having appeared out of nowhere. She stares at a couple of guns on the gun rack. Suddenly the woman is holding a (thankfully magazineless) M16 and looking down the sights. “Так вот о чем говорил Виктор…” she says in perfect Russian. “Он намного легче его винтовка Мосина…” There’s a very faint fondness in her voice as she seems to get lost in thought for a second.

In another moment the gun is back on the shelf and she’s looking at an M1911. “C’est si petite, mais si lourde… beurk.” The slide can be heard but the woman seems to disappear in a blur of motion and the gun is replaced back on its shelf. ”Elle a besoin de l’huile… et je préfère le tir à l’arc.” In another moment she’s standing in front of Shroud, inspecting a 40mm grenade. “Parce que c'est plus silencieux qu'un silencieux de pistolet, n‘est pas?” Every movement, the woman seems to blink from place to place. In the van. At the gun rack. Looking at the bike. Outside by Shroud.

Today the woman’s outfit is much less formal than the clothes at the restaurant. A grey T-shirt with a blood drive logo, some black capri pants, and a set of ratty looking running shoes. She again has her composite bow and a quiver of arrows of every material - wood, carbon, fiberglass, and just as many different styles of fletching. Over her shoulder she also has a hiking bag that seems rather full.
Spoiler: Translations - Russian
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”So this is what Victor was talking about…”

“It’s much lighter than his Mosin.”

Spoiler: Translations - French
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”It’s so tiny but so heavy. Yuck.”

”It needs some oil… and I prefer archery.”

“Because it’s quieter than a pistol silencer, wouldn’t you say?”
Even with a loose mask hanging over her face, one can tell the Shroud is scowling for a moment. But she takes a breath and lets it out. A team is always better than a lone soldier and that's one thing she doesn't have.

Fiona didn't go to the Defense Language Institute, alas, but every special forces soldier picks up a few useful phrases, so she responds. "Bière s'il vous plaît."

"Since you're curious..." She puts her hands in her coat pockets and opens it wide, revealing a veritable arsenal in pockets and loops on the inside of the coat, holding a sawed-off grenade launcher, a large, curved knife, various hand and 40mm grenades, magazines of various sizes, a Camelback tube and some tools that are harder to quantify. A pistol is strapped to her thigh and a SMG hangs under her right arm in some sort of harness rig. She's wearing a kevlar vest, cargo pants and, it seems, a khaki T-shirt.

"Would you like to compare results then?" she asks, pointing at her bow before putting the drone on hover. She puts down the gun case and unzips it, revealing an M110 sniper rifle, likewise without a magazine in the well. After a moment's hesitation, she offers it up for inspection. "One of these, at 500 yards?" She's produced a water bottle from one of her pockets.

Spoiler: Translations - French
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Beer, please.