She took aim for the snipers, two bullets finding homes in their cranium. The woman noticed, however, that she ran low on ammo, strapping the rifle across her back. Pain stabbed through, yet she pressed on, needing to do something about her wounds. She called it a gift, being able to affiliate with all three damage types, arc coursing through her as she raced towards the vandals. Blades appeared and dug into their skin, the light hungering, her wounds starting to heal.