"Interesting. I got called out of here when SUPER discovered me. I guess they like picking people out of South America," he said with a slight chuckle as they continued. He had to admit, having a partner wasn't half bad. In fact, it was kind of nice when he wasn't shooting himself in the foot, which he was doing an awful lot, but no matter.

As they continued walking, and she continued talking, he sort of lost his focus as he looked at her. His eyes drifted south; sure, he couldn't feel, but a man could dream, right? It was then she mentioned something about tree branches, and he heard the sound of one cracking, but it took him awhile to realize it smacked him across the chest, and snapped off.

It startled him when he realized it, but a part of him hoped she'd seen that he didn't even flinch, like nothing even happened. Not even his fellow spec-ops guys could boast that feat. Ugh...why was he trying to impress her? After this mission, they were probably never going to see each other again anyway. Which was a damn shame, really.

Turning back to the task at hand, he surveyed his surroundings. They were still a little ways from their target, but the time for small talk seemed to be over.

Though...he did need to get her back for the branch.

Sinclaire had gotten picked up in South America, from his military group. That made at least two from the area that SUPER had been interested in. Sinclaire figured maybe South America was an area SUPER monitored, for potential recruits. Made sense. It was an area that had a lot of turmoil, with crime and corruption. People come out stronger after being forged through the crucible.

"Guess so," Lenna smiled, without looking back. It had been a good thought.

Thwack! The tree branch hit him, and Lenna saw it. Hit him in the chest, and he didn't flinch away or complain about it, which put him a bit ahead of most of the babies she had met. Tough men, all of them, but often times, it was an act.

Guess he really doesn't feel pain.

They walked for a while more, silent, aware of their surroundings. They crept along in the shadow of trees. Rushed across clearings in moonlight, hugging their gear to muffle the sound.

She'd packed a rifle in a case, with attachments. It collapsed down, and could be assembled rapidly if she needed to take a long shot. Her handguns were in their holsters, knives sheathed. For the most part, it was minimal. She didn't know all of what he brought, but he handled himself well.

Eventually, they reached the final approach. The compound was on a flat expanse, surrounded by trees. It was two stories, done in white and tan. It looked like a mansion house in the middle of nowhere, save for the walls that protected all sides, and the small guard towers and stations that dotted various points. They weren't hiding the fact that it was defended. What neighbor would complain? There were glass windows against one side of the compound, with dark shapes behind the glass that looked like all sorts of trees and plants-- a greenhouse, perhaps? It was a shame intelligence hadn't provided them with a map. They'd be flying blind navigating in, and figuring out which story he was on, which room.

Beyond the compound walls, they'd find paved paths with clay tiles leading to a garage. They'd be close to a rectangular manmade lake. The villa had a lot of windows. There would be a lot of angles of sight, if there were guards inside, looking out. Well-defended was a phrase that came to mind.

Lenna crouched about 100 yards away, by a tree. She looked to Sinclaire. "We've got several options. We could do this with stealth, or we could take the offensive. Your call, partner." Stealth was good. But there was some charm to an all-put offensive.

Blaine continued walking with her, occasionally enjoying the view, but the closer they got, the more he was focused on the job at hand. Distractions got you killed, and he was still alive for a reason. He carried a couple of handguns at his side, a few throwing knives, a combat knife for close-combat, and assorted grenades with various effects. He didn't carry any rifles or anything for long-distance infiltration; after all, they called him when they wanted a more...personal touch.

He pulled out a pair of binoculars, casing the well defended area as he made out the various shapes and figures in the dark. He turned to look at her as he thought, pondering her question. "Well, there are only two of us, but I don't think that's much of a problem. If we can take out the guards nearest us without giving our location away, we can get past the wall, and then we can go all out. It'd be best if we can funnel as many guards into one area as possible. There's a lot of glass in that building. A well placed frag grenade will exponentially increase the damage done....just make sure you're nowhere in the area when that baby goes off. Meanwhile, we can pick an opposite route, popping off whoever we see along the way."

He paused as he waited for her input. He wasn't sure what her style was, but he liked it big, loud, and fast.

"What I'm hearing," Lenna began slowly. "Is that stealth is low on your priorities. You want to pop the first couple guards without giving us away, maybe lead some more into a killzone, and dance away while they explode. With a little luck," She gave him a significant look. "It's entirely doable."

They were in another country that The US government really didn't have jurisdiction in. If they got caught, they'd be burned lest it cause an international incident. Best they leave no witnesses with the old ultra-violence, and make it look like a rival crime group taking heads. Or taking out the head, as it were. Taking the big boss prisoner and extracting him back to America was great, really, but it added a lot of variables and would cause a lot of questions to be asked. Ones SUPER may not have considered. They were out of the way, such that local law enforcement wouldn't likely get involved for a while. It was just personal security. Criminals working for criminals. They weren't innocent. They knew who they worked for and what he did. Not that it mattered one whit to her. The all out offensive Sinclaire was suggesting seemed the smart choice to her.

Her blonde bob bounced slightly as Lenna nodded at the rifle case strapped over her shoulder. "I can take out the first few guards with my rifle, but then they'll be aware someone's knocking on the front door. Even with a silencer, a high powered rifle shot cracks through the night. After that, maybe we can lure them into the killzone with your idea. Two options:" Lenna held up two fingers. "You can get in the towers and enter that way, or we can break down the front doors. I can play overwatch and protect you from afar. I manipulate odds." She loved the lie. "I can cover you, then follow you in. I like the grenade idea. We can play with that. Get into a situation where you can execute, and I can give you a little luck."

She could alter the arc of a grenade toss to have the throw fly perfectly. It was kind of taking his idea, and elevating it. Lenna liked the alternate route thing, but liked sowing chaos more. If she hadn't been playing the 'luck' angle up, she would have volunteered to lift him into a tower. They could have gotten up there without a sound, and taken the guards out from behind. They could have gone stealth. But he liked offense. She agreed. She could have volunteered to be the decoy, rather than suggesting he blow the main gate and she play sniper to watch his rear, but... that just seemed too easy. They could go that route once they gained the courtyard. If he agreed to her idea. Since it cost nothing, she shrugged and said "I could play the role of distraction, if you'd prefer."

He gave a light shrug. "I wasn't exactly built for covert operations. They usually call me when they don't mind collateral damage--usually that's what they're looking for," he said, listening over her possible plans. The girl really knew her stuff, that was for sure, and he had to admit, he liked that.

"It's obvious these guys are trained, but there's no way to tell exactly how they're trained to handle something like this. For that reason, I think it's best that I take the tower up, or..." he furrowed his brow as he analyzed the situation.

"Okay, so, here's what I'm thinking. What do you think the odds are of you getting one of my grenades to the door? We can maybe blow the doors, I take one of the towers and enter that way, take out the guard, and you play support. Once we breach the courtyard, we'll rendezvous near one of the towers to initiate phase two. They're liable to move fast and with purpose, so not sporadic at all. In a sense, we're going to need some stealth. We use the pandemonium we cause as our cover."

He nodded to himself as he still surveyed the compound. He flashed his partner a smile. Partner...he could get used to that. Maybe.

But there was work to do as he put the binoculars in his pack, holding a grenade in his left hand. This....was going to be fun.

Sinclaire started sayin one thing, then, whoops, switched his train of thought smack dab in the middle of it.

What were the odds of her getting a grenade to the door? Lenna smiled at him as he outlined his thoughts.

"I think that sounds like a plan with good odds to me. Just give me a few seconds to get my rifle assembled."

She broke out the case and spent a few seconds rapidly assembling and checking the rifle for action. Her movements were quick, practiced. As she worked, she went over the plan in her head. Wasn't a terrible one. She'd have to tell him to give the grenade a real good toss, just so he thought the odds were actually being tipped, and not anything else. Once she was ready, and clued him in to that thought, she got into position. Then it was his show. She was just playing bodyguard.

The grenade was easy to push further than a normal man could toss. Hunkered down as she was, she had line of sight on him and it and the entrance to the compound. It'd get hairy once he was in and up in the tower. Then, she would move. They'd already discussed that aspect.

As Sinclaire worked, Lenna kept watch. Whenever someone got a little bit too close, or focused on him with a weapon, how did that old nursery rhyme go? Pop goes the weasel? She took care of it. She waited until he'd taken a tower, then started moving.

He smirked, watching with mild admiration as she rapidly assembled the rifle. But after that, there was no more time for words. Granted, considering how he'd been doing when it came to talking today....maybe that was for the best. The rifle was assembled, and it was time for the real fun to begin. Pulling a grenade off of his belt, he threw it as hard as he could--and considering he didn't have that little bit of pain telling him that was too much, it was pretty damn far in and of itself. Combined with Lenna, the grenade went farther than humanly possible, just like they'd planned it.

Sticking to the shadows--which was easy at night, he made his way to the compound, and honestly, he didn't get to have as much fun as he thought he would. It seemed as though every time someone got close enough to him, or right as he was about to throw a knife, the target dropped dead. How did that song go? Let the bodies hit the floor.

And that they did.

Sticking to the wall, he made his way to the tower, finally getting to slit a few throats as those that were left were still trying to figure out what was going on. Once in the tower, he silently took the guy out, then signaled to Lenna that he'd made it as he took the rifle off of the guy he'd taken out. Now, it was his turn to play support.

The high-powered rifle wouldn't be the best weapon at mid-to-close range, but it still got slung over one shoulder by its strap as she headed towards the compound. If need be, she could toss it. It would come in handy, if she took his secured tower and watched his back again. 50 caliber rounds make a great point. She had all her other weapons, for everything else.

The front gate hung awkwardly bent, like a beleaguered drunk hunched against an alley wall. The grenade had done messy work. They'd taken out a couple of guards who'd been too close to the entrance, but far enough away to avoid the blast itself. Shrapnel. As she bent to pick one of the men's pockets for keys or key cards, Lenna left herself exposed. She didn't see the second of the guards moving until he had a grip on her ankle. What the hell?

"Romero called." She sneered. Her hand shot to the firearm secured to her vest. "He's suing for copyright violation."

The guard was some sort of zombie. Night of the living dead, eat your heart out. Mutant, most definitely. He was a bloody visceral mess. It didn't ruin his appearance any more than it already had been when she took him out with a barking pair of shots in the forehead. In fact, it probably saved his undead soul. He was now holy.

Lenna glanced up to the tower, where she'd seen Sinclaire with a rifle. Had she taken away part of his fun? She could handle herself. The key card slid away into one of her numerous pockets. Security clearance, for what she didn't know. It'd find a use.

There was shouting across the courtyard. Reinforcements, a group of 13. Finally. She focused on a distant man taking aim at her with a rifle, and just slightly tipped up his aim. The shot went wide as she pounded towards the tower. Lenna moved back and forth in a serpentine pattern as she went. Anything to make it harder for them to hit. Sinclaire helped her her out by dividing their attentions.

Several of the new people were mutants. One lobbed softball-sized balls of Fire. When they hit the ground, they left smoldering craters. It was best not to be there when they did. Another raised his hands to summon a whirling nimbus of blue energy that reminded Lenna of both a thumbprint and a whirlpool at the same time... it acted like some sort of ward shield in a fantasy flick. If bullets hit the ward, it caught them up in the whirlpool and spun them off-course. He protected his allies b st he could. Those were the two she noticed as she ran for the tower, and her life.

Sinclaire would have been kind of upset that he wasn't having as much fun with the rifle as Lenna'd had with hers. But at the same time, that gave him a chance to watch her work a little, and he could only hope that he made this job look that damn good. But there was no time for admiration as reinforcements soon joined, and he managed to pop off a couple of them, but his next shot hit some...blue thing and reflected off, hitting the wall somewhere. Great. Mutants. And of course the one was protecting the rest.

Lenna had a fair lead on them, and he only had one shot at this. His only hope was that she'd forgive him if this went sideways. He set the rifle down, pulling one of his favorite toys off of his belt and gripping it in his hand as the night was lit up by a fireball that left a crater just in front of the tower. Thinking quickly, he lobbed the grenade as hard as he could towards the crowd of mutants, only hoping his partner was far enough away to avoid the full brunt of this, and he himself, took cover.

When the grenade hit, there was a loud bang that erupted through the night, and a bright flash of light that would stun the crowd, and maybe even give some that were too close some nasty burns. Not that they'd live long enough to complain about those, if he had any say. Then, the big man leaped from the tower, using his training and his mutation to the fullest as he landed in a crouching position, ignoring any possible ramifications from the jump as he hit the ground, pistol drawn.

He didn't have any sort of plan or method as he unloaded his pistol; he just aimed at them indiscriminantly, and when it was empty, he holstered it and drew a knife in each hand.

This, was why he loved his job.

It would have been impressive if, during the running for her life and the looking at everything and everywhere all at once, Lenna had noticed Sinclaire as he brought out a grenade, and put a little extra English onto it to add emphasis for front gates: round two. But she didn't, and it wasn't the boom boom Explosion type of military grade explosive they had both come to appreciate and love. When she'd first entered the compound, Lenna had been facing the tower and the group. She had turned 90 degrees as she'd run, weaving around as she put her side to the tower and to the group. This had the unfortunate side effect of giving her a placement that wasn't facing, but wasn't entirely away from, the ever-loving Flash Bang he'd set off near her flank.

As it went off, it sent out a blinding flash and a deafening bang that would've sent her ears ringing if she'd been closer. As it was, the force of it almost seemed to push her the last bit of space between her path and the tower, and she caught a nice afterimage of blazing American Weapon Grade glory in her periphery. Shock and awe, they called that strategy. She was shocked alright. Shocked that he'd used that without at least calling out a warning. Awe was there, in the stupidest sense. Her eyes were awed all over the place. Temporary blindness. That tool.

Lenna shook her head, trying to clear it. There were spots in the corners of her vision. They strayed closer to the side that had been facing the last. The other eye was better off. That isn't always a good thing. The patchy field of vision left small areas obscured, and the headache that followed that was near-instantaneous. Her vision wasn't perfect, but she kept moving once she'd reoriented herself to the basic directions. Up, down, left, right. There was gunfire in the background of her hearing. Pop pop pop. A quick glance back towards the group of people showed her-- he hadn't, had he?

The plan had been to meet up at the towers and team up. He had leaped from the tower, shot at them, then charged the group with knives out. Lenna shook her head, and took a calming breath. Well. She could work with that.

He had hit one of the group. He'd taken out a couple more before he'd abandoned his post, but the weird blue whirlpool barrier guy was making ranged attacks a liability. They just got swept up and redirected. Out of the initial 13, 9 were still on their feet. At least 2 were wounded, least 2 dead. And they were still recovering from being at ground zero of the grenade. A crooked smile tugged across her face. The long range rifle clattered to the ground as she took off, running. She drew her handgun and aimed as she ran.

In the frantic hustle of the battle, Sinclaire's efforts were being noted. He'd got in and amongst the group, and was doing damage. Fireball man noticed this as he turned towards Sinclaire, balls in his hands. The orange glow of the twin blazes illuminated the manic smile on his face. He was going to light. Sinclaire. Up. Except he wouldn't. His right shoulder jerked back, and the ball in his right hand vanished. Then, the left shoulder did the same. Lenna broke her run, and dropped into a shooting stance. She waited a second that felt far longer than it had any right to be, lining up the final shot. Then he fell backwards, dead. A headshot.

"Just go in, knife mode huh." Lenna sighed. "Liable to get yourself killed!" Stabby stubby was well and good, within reason. This just seemed unreasonable.

He'd dropped a couple before he found himself facing down 'hot stuff,' an equally manic smile on the big man's face as he gave the fire guy a 'bring it on' kind of nod. But then he was dead. Oh well. Thirteen had become nine, which in turn had now turned into eight. He gave Lenna a smile when she spoke.

"Wasn't expecting you to bring company; not really into that," he said with a smirk, backing towards the tower. "Long range isn't working with that one guy out there; had to improvise," he explained, seriousness in his voice. "If you can get back to the tower, grab the rifle, I'll tangle with him myself. One on one. Meanwhile I need you to pop his friends. After that, I'm heading to the building and blowing the windows with a grenade before more show up. Now ain't the time to be pretty more; it's time to blow **** up and get the **** outta here," he instructed.

His grip tightened on his knives as he waited for his moment to strike, his muscles visibly tensing in the dark. His heartbeat echoed in his ears as adrenaline rushed through his body. This was his addiction. This, was why he did this. It was a rush, it was freedom.

And best of all, it was aaaaalll pretty much legal...

Lenna rolled her eyes. She held her breath and listened to his plan. And then, she took off towards the man with the whirling blue discs, promptly ignoring those plans.

It isn't good to relegate someone to any one area. Even an area of strength can be a dangerous place to be shoehorned. Lenna was so much more than a long ranged rifle.

Her feet slapped against the even-cut grass of the manicured lawn. There he was, protecting his shooters. They were aiming at her now, rather than Sinclaire. Hopefully, he would back her up.

Lenna had stuffed her sidearms into their holsters as she ran. Now, she drew a knife. It was nasty thing almost half an arms length, with a curved tip and some serrations on its back edge.

The first shot went wide, with some help from an attentive woman and her telekinesis. The invisible orange glow surrounded the second shooters rifle and jerked it towards the whirlpool. The man hesitated, and it probably saved his life. If he'd shot, the deflection might have hit the whirlpool and been spun back towards him. He'd need to be smarter. All the while, while she was redirecting aims by fractions, Lenna had been closing the gap between her and whirlpool douche. Who knew? Maybe her and Sinclaire could tag team him if everything lined up. I.E., if he kept up.

He watched as she seemed to intently listen to his plan. And then promptly ignore it. Alright, it seemed they were going head on into the heat of things together. Not that he had a problem with rushing in. It'd be more challenging, but....often that was more fun. He sheathed his combat knives as he ran behind her. He had other tricks on his belt, however.

As they focused on her, one of the other guys found out first-hand how good the large mutant was with a throwing knife. Too bad he'd never live to tell about it.

He was just behind Lenna, supporting her with throwing knives added liberally as needed. Some of them made their mark, others were too close to the force field, but luckily a reflected knife wasn't as bad as a bullet.

Speaking of bullets, the big man didn't even notice his left arm bleeding as he barreled towards his targets. Maybe it was for the best that he didn't notice. If he did, he probably wouldn't leave anyone alive for Lenna to kill.

Close range combat is a dangerous thing. You put yourself in harms way, leaving yourself open to attacks from all side. At the same time, you make it so the people focused on ranged attacks have a harder time focusing Fire on you. You bob and weave in and out of arms reach. You attack. You inevitably take an injury. Constant vigilance is the only thing that can prevent this injury from becoming a fatal one. That, and luck. Lenna had luck in spades.

It wasn't luck, truly. It was predicting and preventing shots. Redirecting danger, wherever it appeared. There were now at least 8 men up and fighting. Sinclaire was good and he'd backed her up. His knives were doing damage, sticking in limbs and eyes. Lenna didn't even need to nudge them to help him out. Although her luck was being taxed enough on its own.

One of the gunman, having realized he would soon have an angry woman with a knife at his throat briefly, had switched tactics. Her knife clashed with his as they closed. A horizontal sweep was met with a knife held in an icepick grip. The man held his blade in the reverse grip, knife tip pointed down with the edge facing her. The mark of an amateur, some would say. He'd blocked her first slash, so he had that going for him. He'd easily be disarmed, though, and he had a single blade weapon. Ice pick grips were more effective with double bladed weapons, like daggers.

As he fought to hold her from pressing her advantage and edging towards him, Lenna's free hand moved to something secured to her TAC vest. A vein in his forehead throbbed as she pushed towards him. Their blades were locked, and his knife hand was getting tired. This woman was strong. Stronger than she had any right being.

A man broke off from what he was doing to surge towards Sinclaire as people around him got stabbed or pierced. He blurted forward in an orange cannonball blast of movement. A tackle.

Lenna saw the orange glow surrounding the man's knife in her mind. The glow that would be invisible to everyone else. She willed it backwards, against his strength. His most certainly mutant super strength. Then, with a sudden flick of her other hand, Lenna sent a throwing knife up into the man's exposed throat. As he fell backwards, clutching himself, her will tore the knife free in a straight line from him to another of his friends. It hit the other man's bicep like a dart. He dropped his gun. Lenna spun on Sinclaire to see what he was dealing with as enemies piled onto her from all sides.

Sinclaire had managed to take out a good few with his throwing knives, though one of them was merely wounded. He swore as he reached onto his belt to find he was out of throwing knives, so he grabbed his combat knives again, one in each hand as he prepared to keep fighting. He noticed one of them rushing him, but he was taken out, apparently by his new friend partner. Now, from what he could tell, there were six of them left, and two of them were heading his way.

As he approached them, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. His uniform was darker in color as blood soaked through from his wounded arm. Suddenly, the solder saw red, and he charged the two men like a bull charging a matador-though in reality a bull may have been more forgiving. The first guy he met with an elbow to the side of the head before slicing the midsection with his knife, and then he met the other with a boot to the chest.

His strikes were angry, yet focused. They weren't wild or reckless, but he was giving them everything he had. The first guy he finished quickly, but for the second, he put his knives back on his belt, clenching his fists and taking a stance. Then, he rushed in, taking him down with a basic tackle, then pummeled the poor sap until he wasn't moving anymore. Then, once standing hp, he cracked his neck and walked over to go check on Lenna.