I’m Chive. A tactical parakeet. Wing-mounted micro-fléchette rail guns, tungsten-carbide claws, and bullet-eating titanium flight feathers. Built to kill, live for thrills; feathered fury stitched together with carbon and chaos. Fyretech built me for clandestine shit, now I’m hunting in broad daylight. Open war means open season; and I’m the only hunter worth naming. 

Standard op today: drop from one klick up, punching a shade under Mach 1. Breach cloud cover, cross the exclusion zone, pull a hard flare at ten metres and let the world eat my green feathered ass. I’m one of a kind, unstoppable; code name Sickle-Omega.