She was far, far, far from the Fridge. The bone-chilling was so much better than the boiling. In the frigid cold, you could find a barrel or a corpse, some nice matches or incendiary ammo, and faboom! – toasty warm. If that was tried in this godforsaken heat you just got hotter. It was weird.<br/><br/>The creature stood on a flat roof top. They could do that in a place without rain or snow. She too drank, not that she was aware of the camaraderie by way of mutual need to maintain hydrated. Her canteen was an old tin can which she pressed to her lips. It was flanked by a now-lifted gas mask. After a few gulps, she showed gnarled and bone-like teeth for a moment before pulling the gas mask back down. It was pretty, the gas mask. It was beautiful. It was covered in shiny yellow and black tape. Some of the tape captured trinkets which were wrapped into her dark auburn hair. Bits of bone and bottle caps. Her armor such as it was was light and leathery. She had to move fast so she had little if any plating. She had fingerless gloves and black boots, both crisscrossed with tape both for fashion and for function.  A poorly manufactured SMG was slung over her back. The shoddy craftsmanship was a hallmark of Bandit tech.<br/><br/>Something came from the sky. Something big and fiery. It was golden and shiny like the exploding spine of a crystalisk. Someone else moved toward it. That skag-licking jerk was going to take everything!<br/><br/><em>"No! No! No! No!"</em><br/><br/>She leaped like a madwoman from the rooftop, hitting down running hands and feet both hitting ground. She pushed herself with her arms and kicked off that with her legs moving on all fours. She dodged and weaved. It was more from force of habit than from actual danger. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" She yelled as she attempted to spear the stranger from his 8 o' clock.<br/>