[Flandre lunged forwards as soon as she saw the mirror-surface move, keeping her profile low--so low she pitched her shoulder into a roll, clamping her wings to her back. She saw the rifle swinging back down as if it was snared in tar, and sprang up at its exposed undercarriage, where she could see the wiring and hydraulics.
They sparked before her claws tore them away, slashing through to the metal carriage--and through that too. The latter could be easily welded back together--the former left her fingertips and claws trailing smoke.]
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They sparked before her claws tore them away, slashing through to the metal carriage--and through that too. The latter could be easily welded back together--the former left her fingertips and claws trailing smoke.]