More shooting erupts, the staccato reports of automatic fire. Helos thump and whine, tracked vehicles squeal and rumble. Every roar, every report, every detonation seems to vibrate through the earth beneath Machiko's feet. This is the nearest she has ever been to a live shooting war, and yet she feels no fear. Only resolve. A calm resolve that allows no fear, no hesitancy, no uncertainty. A calm like that of the dead.