The world inside the Gate was a cacophony of screeching metal and splintering bone.
Jinx was a blur of deadly efficiency, her rifle barking out a steady, percussive rhythm of death.
But the buffed-up ghouls were tanks.
Her armor-piercing rounds, which should have turned them into clouds of black mist, were now just chipping away at their newly-formed chitinous plating.
One of them, a hulking brute with claws like rebar hooks, swiped at her, forcing her to dive behind the rusted-out husk of a station wagon.
Sparks flew as the claws tore through the car's roof like it was wet cardboard.
"A little help here, Boomer!" she yelled, her voice tight with strain.
Jax, however, had his own problems.
He was pinned down behind a crumbling brick wall, two of the armored ghouls relentlessly hammering at his cover.
"One second, Jinxie!" he called back, his usual cheerfulness strained. "I'm in the middle of a very important architectural deconstruction project!"
