| abstract | - She draws in the cool night air in long painful gasps. No amount of training at the agency could have prepared her for this. Mind racing, the young Nakita Agent nervously rolls a metallic cylinder between her thumb and forefinger. It’s a slick little device -- a close range laser cleverly disguised as a tube of glossy red lipstick. “Chrissy!” Her fellow agent, Kimberly, calls to her in a hushed voice. Chrissy looks up and meets the eyes of her ally. The bond between Nakita agents is so strong that they rarely need words to communicate. A squadron of Gorillinators is pinned under heavy fire from one of those Deathwalkers. Chrissy clicks her tongue to signal Angela, the third Nakita, 2 meters down the ruined wall they're jokingly calling cover. A sudden hand gesture and her teammates are over the wall firing on the towering machine. On cue, Chrissy throws smoke powder from behind the wall, then moves to aid in the Gorillinator’s retreat. There will be another day for victory.
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