Megiddo
an excerpt

“Mediator Exodus, I need your help!” The little girl huffs and puffs, but I stand firm. As I turn to face her, my armor creaks as the plates rubs against each other; I need to remember to fix that. I look down as her she she stops just a few feet from me. She has blond hair, quite curly actually, a regular Goldilocks, that trails to just below her neck line; her face is pale white, odd for South America, and she has very little color in her flesh. Her eyes are a fairly unimpressive shade of blue-green. I stare at her for about half a second, my mind racing as I analyze her; it is an old habit and one common to Meditators of my generation, but one that serves me well in the Southern American LoTech Zone. However, this is hardly the time or the place for such intrusions into her person; a child can pose no harm.