Megan Salvatore

Megan woke in a pile of sand, at the bottom of a dune. After the first explosion ripped the drop ship in half, a second one had hit the tail of the ship, and sent it spinning. The young sniper had been thrown clear of the spiraling ship, and landed on a sand dune, rolling to the bottom. It had taken everything to roll with that fall, even then she blacked out near the bottom.

Standing up she glanced down at her clothes. The pants had some rips, her tank top seemed OK, though she had some sand between her huge tits. She had lost the rifle in the first shot. Her pistols were missing too, though she still had her machete Thank goodness for small miracles.

Glancing back along the smoke and doted debris, she didn’t see either of the two major sections of the ship. Mable it was a good thing she had stood up, when she did. Cross was likely dead, though the other two may have survived. She had left for him, and now she had to say goodbye to him.
“Get a hold of your self” she muttered angrily. If anyone survived, they would make for that small town...well dump, whatever.

Dusting her self off, best she could, the sniper, began her journey toward the scrap heap looking town. It took her a half hour to reach the outer edges. The place was a disaster, a winding maze of twisted metal. Moving softly down an alley way, into the complex, she spotted a blond woman standing guard, with a pistol at her hip.