The scream of jet engines announced the counter-strike more assuredly than any piece of public statement in the forum. Banking low across the market, the Lightnings spat flurries of hard rounds, strafing the area as an open target.
It was a tight, well-disciplined formation that was gone mere moments after the attack began. For a moment, it left a haze of dust and streamers of ragged cloth twisting in the vortexes that came trailing after. The big guns opened up then; breaching the thick city walls and chewing large gaps in the narrow twisting streets. The ground seemed to groan in protest with each concussion.
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