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Description
made with Bing image creator

prompt: (works ok)

gas masks, Three young female russian soldiers with gas masks,lenses, thick green fog, they wear open shiny wetsuits for diving, skintight, sleeping enemy soldiers around them, ponytails, zipping up, all female, inside the bridge of a big ship, they are on their knees,

Possible story:

(The origin is just for the look)

---

**The Gas-Masked Warriors**

In the murky depths of the Caspian Sea, three Russian soldiers—Nadia, Irina, and Yelena—moved with the grace of predators. Clad in skintight wetsuits, their forms were sculpted by discipline and determination. Their bodys protected by that second skin.

Nadia, the leader, had eyes like shards of ice. Her raven-black hair clung to her skull, and her lips were set in a determined line. Irina, the tech expert, and Yelena, the youngest, was all sinew and fire, her freckled cheeks flushed with adrenaline.

As they approached the enemy ship—an imposing vessel with jagged edges—their heart rates surged. They dive to the anchor chain Nadia signaled, and they ditched their scuba gear, then they climb the chiain untilt they reach a jatch now revealing the sleek gas masks strapped to their thighs.

The masks were works of art—black rubber molded to their faces, glass lenses reflecting their steely determination. Each mask bore a Cyrillic inscription: "Breathe, or perish." They secured the masks, the rubber sealing against their skin, and their eyes met in silent understanding.

Nadia produced the gas bomb—a compact sphere pulsing with malevolence. She twisted the timer, and the device came alive, releasing a noxious cloud. The ship's crew, unsuspecting, inhaled the gasas it fills the corridors. Panic erupted as the crewm clutched their throats, their lungs seizing. The ship echoed with desperate gasps.

The trio moved swiftly, moving over bodies in the narrow corridors. They ascended to the bridge, their feet echoing on metal grates.

The bridge was a battleground. Some guards struggeling to strap gas masks on their faces.
They might be the only who could reach some masks in time. The trio closed the door of the chest with the lifegiving masks. Only the captian a middle aged woman alredy wore a gas mask. But she must have been exposed to the gas because she was barely conscious. Yelena leaned towards her and slip her fingertips between the rubber of the mask and the face of the captian breaking the airtight seal. Then peeling the mask of the face of her opponent.
The enemy captain, gasping for air, despertly trying to stop her

Nadia lunged, grip her throat. "Where's the cargo?" she demanded.

Her eyes widened, and he gasped, "Lower decks." Yelena then throw the mask on the floor and stepped on the lenses breaking them.

They left the captian, and raced below. In the bowels of the ship, they found it—a crate of classified documents with the rusdian flag on it secrets that could alter the course of war. This will bring an end to the russian aggression.

Description
made with Bing image creator

prompt: (works ok)

gas masks, Three young female russian soldiers with gas masks,lenses, thick green fog, they wear open shiny wetsuits for diving, skintight, sleeping enemy soldiers around them, ponytails, zipping up, all female, inside the bridge of a big ship, they are on their knees,

Possible story:

(The origin is just for the look)

---

**The Gas-Masked Warriors**

In the murky depths of the Caspian Sea, three Russian soldiers—Nadia, Irina, and Yelena—moved with the grace of predators. Clad in skintight wetsuits, their forms were sculpted by discipline and determination. Their bodys protected by that second skin.

Nadia, the leader, had eyes like shards of ice. Her raven-black hair clung to her skull, and her lips were set in a determined line. Irina, the tech expert, and Yelena, the youngest, was all sinew and fire, her freckled cheeks flushed with adrenaline.

As they approached the enemy ship—an imposing vessel with jagged edges—their heart rates surged. They dive to the anchor chain Nadia signaled, and they ditched their scuba gear, then they climb the chiain untilt they reach a jatch now revealing the sleek gas masks strapped to their thighs.

The masks were works of art—black rubber molded to their faces, glass lenses reflecting their steely determination. Each mask bore a Cyrillic inscription: "Breathe, or perish." They secured the masks, the rubber sealing against their skin, and their eyes met in silent understanding.

Nadia produced the gas bomb—a compact sphere pulsing with malevolence. She twisted the timer, and the device came alive, releasing a noxious cloud. The ship's crew, unsuspecting, inhaled the gasas it fills the corridors. Panic erupted as the crewm clutched their throats, their lungs seizing. The ship echoed with desperate gasps.

The trio moved swiftly, moving over bodies in the narrow corridors. They ascended to the bridge, their feet echoing on metal grates.

The bridge was a battleground. Some guards struggeling to strap gas masks on their faces.
They might be the only who could reach some masks in time. The trio closed the door of the chest with the lifegiving masks. Only the captian a middle aged woman alredy wore a gas mask. But she must have been exposed to the gas because she was barely conscious. Yelena leaned towards her and slip her fingertips between the rubber of the mask and the face of the captian breaking the airtight seal. Then peeling the mask of the face of her opponent.
The enemy captain, gasping for air, despertly trying to stop her

Nadia lunged, grip her throat. "Where's the cargo?" she demanded.

Her eyes widened, and he gasped, "Lower decks." Yelena then throw the mask on the floor and stepped on the lenses breaking them.

They left the captian, and raced below. In the bowels of the ship, they found it—a crate of classified documents with the rusdian flag on it secrets that could alter the course of war. This will bring an end to the russian aggression.