A reunion of sorts

They enter the camp silently. It's habit more than anything else, but there's also a certain challenge in trying to sneak into one of their own camps. The storm still blows and Makita and Proto are widely considered to be two of the stealthiest and deadliest members of the resistance. It's almost disappointingly easy to get through the sentries and then approach one of them from behind. Makita reaches out quietly to pick up the rifle lying against the wall before she sighs theatrically, "You're getting sloppy, Mishka." Mishka, predictably, starts and his hand darts toward the rifle which is no longer there before he recognizes her.

"Geez, Makita! What are you trying to do? Give an old man a heart attack?" At twenty-three, Mishka is one of the oldest members of the squad.

"What a silly idea," Makita grins. "I just didn't want you to cut your hand on the bayonet. Because then someone would have to patch you up and it'd be so much trouble." She runs a thumb experimentally down the blade in question then smirks, "Oh, huh... Looks like I didn't need to be concerned. You couldn't cut paper with this thing, much less something important." After catching his eyes to make sure he's ready, Makita tosses the rifle back to him.

Mishka looks over Makita's shoulder to smirk at Proto, "How do you keep up with this girl, Proto? I get exhausted just looking at her."

"Well," Proto smiles softly, "She certainly keeps me on my toes."

"I'll bet." Mishka shakes his head and then jerks a thumb over his shoulder and says to Makita, "Your papa's a hundred meters that way organizing the group that's reinforcing the wall."

With a nod Makita starts walking that way, but she pauses to shoot Mishka a serious look, "That really was sloppy, Mishka. If we'd been a Red kill squad things would have gotten messy." She holds his eyes until he nods once, then she turns and strides toward the wall.

There's a reason that papa's still alive despite having been in the war since it started, despite having fought in the war in Al'Istaan. Makita and Proto move silently even in the safety of the camp, but he still turns and smiles with immense fondness, "Hello, my child." He reaches out to grip her shoulders, "Let me look at you."

"Oh, papa," Makita rolls her eyes and wraps her arms tightly around him. She whispers into his coat, "I've missed you."

His eyes meet Proto's and an imperceptable nod passes between them: they will protect this girl with their lives, and they know that she will do the same for them. His smile is fond as he hugs his daughter back and reaches up to run a hand through her hair. "I have missed you too, my little soldier."

"Enough," he says as he reluctantly disengages the embrace. "There will be time for sentiment after we have driven the Reds off. Come, I can use two more pairs of hands." He smiles, "We managed to find a case of Red Fleet Mk XII anit-personel mines. You two probably know better than anyone in my squad how to set them up to protect us from stealthy approaches."

Makita's eyes widen and she grins, "Can I keep one of them?"

"Yes, but only one." He waves at the opened case of mines nearby, "Now get to it."