The Last Stand (13)

Linsley slung his rifle back over his shoulder, hefting the crowbar with a satisfied smirk. "You're slipping, Queen. I thought you'd let them put up more of a fight."

Aurielle laughed, her tone laced with playful defiance. "Next time, I'll leave one for you. Consider it charity."

The duo moved with precision, their practiced rhythm making quick work of scavenging the remnants of the player stronghold.

Aurielle grabbed boxes of ammunition, arranging them in her pack with the efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times.

Meanwhile, Linsley examined the shelves for overlooked supplies, pocketing a small stash of tactical gear.

Aurielle held up a pristine combat knife she'd found, the blade catching a gleam of sunlight filtering through the shattered windows. Spinning it in her hand, she slid it smoothly into her boot. "Now this," she said with a grin, "is practical and stylish."