[ Korone didn't hesitate to throw herself into helping and she's been at it for hours now, with no plans to call it quits any time soon. Fighting, rescuing, healing, escorting — you name it! Need a hand? She'll give it! Need a snack or a drink? She'll give that too! This pigeon is Prepared.

The thing is, this isn't her first brush with Ellipsa's criminal underbelly. Far from it. One gang in particular is very well aware of what she's capable of. … Which is why one well-dressed goon in a snazzy suit and stupid as fuck fedora just shot her.

It's fine! Occupied though she may have been — taking out five other goons with a loose tire and a (formerly slightly, now very) crumpled car door and saving a pair of elderly grandmas in the process — she still manages to dodge. Mostly. The projectile grazes her, rips a gash across her upper bicep. Korone hisses softly.

And promptly, not even the slightest bit softly, smashes Mr. Stupid As Fuck Fedora across the entirety of his everything with an abandoned motorcycle, knocking him clean through the wall behind before he can so much as squeak. ]

Geez! [ Korone, still holding the motorcycle, still dripping blood, and with no idea what's about to happen, huffs. ] That was rude.

[ Or maybe you miss all that nonsense and encounter her later! She is SO SMALL.

SO TINY. She can't be any older than five or six.

Her itsy bitsy, down-covered wings are so itsy bitsy they're entirely hidden beneath her shirt. Not so hidden is the cast iron skillet she just introduced to a criminal's kneecap. ]

Oof! [ A gentle WHAP on the head seals the deal. ] There we go. Is everything okay over here? Do you need a hand?