471
The heavy strike had broken their own team's spacing.
The Black-Badge were trying to re-form behind cover, shouting into radios, firing upward at drones they couldn't control and downward at enemies they couldn't stop.
One operator swung his rifle toward Sera and fired again, not because he believed it would work but because, apparently, he needed to do something stupid in his last moments of life.
Zubair reacted without thought.
He hit the man from the side with a palm to the chest and poured heat through armor seams. Not enough to explode him. Enough to boil everything inside until the man made one awful sound and collapsed.
The smell of cooked flesh hit the air.
Sera turned her head at it, curiosity sharpening her expression like a blade.
Zubair didn't look away. He didn't flinch. He didn't hide what he was doing.
If Sera needed real food, then the world could provide it.
