Four remained... and they were giving her trouble. Their mutations had finally reared their ugly heads. All except Whirlpool man, that was. He'd already shown his skill. The other three... well, two of them appeared to be twins and they both had the same inane blend of bioluminescence and super speed. It hadn't shown when they'd been gunning for them, but when she had closed they'd both been surrounded by coruscating auras of crackling blue lightning, moving and double, maybe triple the speed.

Lenna had skipped back and weaved around their knife slashes, angling the attacks just a breath farther away from her with well-timed psychic pushes. As she moved, one step ahead of them, it almost looked like she was close to matching their speed. That, or insanely lucky. The problem was, their reactions were insane. Every time Lenna tried to shoot them or gut them, all she got was air. And they were fighting together, as a freaking twin team. Plus, they had their redirection man, sweating bullets, and the fourth mutant, doing what he do.

What he do had something to do with eyes that faded from grey to silver, and seemed to glow. He held up hid hands. His lips were moving. He wasn't trying to shoot her or stab her. It wasn't clear what he was doing. As she fought for her life, though, things started to feel hopeless.

You can't win. The thought drifted through her mind like a ribbon on the wind. Lenna pushed the thought away, focusing on the movement of battle. Of mental shoves and psychic pushes that kept her just out of reach of danger. Near-glancing blows that swept by her, and left a wind that tossled her hair. She turned and aimed another shot at whirlpool guy, when a free moment struck.

It looked like Sinclaire was handling his own fight just fine.

Just give up. A tiny voice stated. They will get you in the end. They would not get her. Not in the end, or anywhere else. She quashed the teeny tiny ripple of self doubt.

Whirlpool guy had redirected the shot away from everyone, the bastard.

Just give up. The wind repeated. No, Lenna thought.

Do it. The voice said. It's enunciation almost made it sound like it was saying Dew It. That did it. The sudden realization hit her like a runaway train. Silver eyes wasn't doing nothing. They were messing with her head. Sonovabitch!

Before Lenna could turn and deal with Silver, one of the twins scored a lucky hit. The knife slash glanced off her right forearm, and came away with the edge bloodied. Lenna imagined an orange outline surrounding the man, and threw him back. Then, she threw the other twin back, creating space between her and them. Screw. This. Knife fights and annoying magic ward users, she could stomach. Mind invasion was where she drew the line. In some ways, that made her similar to the version of Her from another world... but she would never know that bit of personal history. The ultimate point of her feelings towards the invasion was that this guy would distract her, depress her, and in the end, she would fall. He was a cheater. She could cheat, too.

Turning, Lenna ran from them. Ran towards Sinclaire. She was done clashing with the speedsters. She threw them both again for good measure, one after the other. A one two punch. Anything to keep them from following her and chasing her down.

She was done fighting them, done concealing her abilities. If Sinclaire saw it, so what? Luck manipulation was stupid and she was so over tricking the man.

He had one, didn't he? "Sinclaire!" Lenna shouted at him as she ran. He was close enough she could have torn at him, grappled with his belt, invaded his personal space and taken what she needed, but. There. Wasn't. Time. Reaching out with one arm to guide her thoughts, Lenna tore the first grenade she spotted from Sinclaire's body. It sailed into her hand. Lenna spun on the spot, pulled the pin and launched the grenade towards the group of men. She gave it an extra psychic push. Then she turned again, mentally encased him in an orange glow only only she could see. Lenna launched him several feet away. Then she took flight after him, levitating at 30MPH towards the man. They needed to get out of the radius of the fragmentation grenade. Otherwise, this would be messy.

She reached him as she flew. For a moment, she hovered above him. Her eyes met his. She licked her lips. Then, Lenna seized him and kept flying. "Keep low." Lenna said.

The grenade got near the group, and everyone's eyes grew several sizes. Things seemed to slide into slow motion as they followed it with their eyes. The grenade tumbled, almost like a golf ball into a putt putt hole... pulled straight towards the whirlpool.

Whirlpool man opened his mouth. "Oh. S-." Hole in one. He didn't get to finish that sentence. The fragmentation grenade exploded. It exploded good. But then the whirlpool sucked the shrapnel back in, in the perfect storm of death. It might've hit them, if the whirlpool hadn't worked for them-- but it had. They were good.

"Well. Lenna said. "That was lucky."

And she had landed right on top of Sinclaire. Fffff.

He'd finished his business with his own fight, then turned to see Lenna running again; poor girl seemed to be in over her head this time. She called his name, and he was on the way. But then one of his grenades jumped off of his belt and into her hand. Then, everything was a blur. The next thing he knew, he was sailing through the air, in her arms as the grenade did the hard work for them.

Okay, so maybe she did know what she was doing. The whirlpool even did them a favor and kept everything contained. He didn't make a sound as they hit, though his head conking against the hard-packed dirt and grass was pretty audible to someone as close as she was.

He smirked as he looked up at her; it was rather...interesting...how they'd landed. But truth be told they had no time for that right now. "Damn straight it was...good thinking with the grenade," he complimented. "Though...as much as I could get used to this, we've still got one more phase to this. Still for making a giant frag-bomb out of that compound?" he asked.

Though, he didn't move. Not yet. His arm was bleeding, and though he couldn't feel pain, or soreness, or sadly even the smaller woman's body sprawled on top of him, he was 'feeling' a little...slower. It was an odd sensation that wasn't really a sensation, but he was tired. Not exhausted; he still had plenty of gas in the tank. But the adrenaline was starting to wear off and he was going need to unwind once they got back on friendly grounds.

No sense of touch meant no sense of pain. FOR HIM. The fight, followed by the high speed aerial collision directly followed by the hard landing atop the bony, burly man meant Lenna was feeling it. He’d hit his head. Probably had some form of head trauma, though he wasn’t feeling it. The man smirked when she spoke to him, and pointedly didn’t comment about their precarious positioning (bless his heart).

She didn’t immediately reply to Sinclaire. Lenna just muttered a gruff ”One second,”, then took a quick mental inventory before she attempted to move them. Moving them before she did so might injure them worse.

No broken limbs on her side of the equation. Lenna flexed her hands. Some minor cuts and abrasions from the fight, as well as the landing. The abrasions were mainly on her hands, from scraping the ground. They were lucky it wasn’t a gravel lot. Dirt and grass meant Sinclaire’s back wasn’t going to har the texture of ground beef. Only vaguely roughed up palms, rather than shredded. She wasn’t bleeding much, and the injuries that bled were minor. She was bruised and feeling them, but her head was fine. No whiplash. And no shrapnel had hit them in the back. As for him...

They needed to get going, and he needed a reply to his question. The mental inventory had taken about fifteen seconds. Now it was done. Brusquely, Lenna extricated herself from the tangle of limbs.

She loomed over him. Sinclaire looked run down. He hadn’t moved when she’d moved to separate them both, other than the obvious little motions that helped them not be a body ball. He was bleeding. He was bleeding enough it made her glower at him.

Lenna tore at a pouch at her side, and brought out a small roll of tan bandages. She threw it down at his chest. ”You’re bleeding on your arm.” She snapped. ”You probably have minor head trauma. How many fingers am I holding up?” Four fingers. She was holding up four fingers, two on each hand. She was practically flashing a V for Victory at him.

”Your lack of pain is impressive, but if you don’t see your own weaknesses, it’s a liability too.” She sighed. Blood loss could add up fast. A concussion might make him unreliable. They needed to take care of themselves before they started talking about storming the castle. Though they certainly couldn’t lay around in the middle of the enemy courtyard.

He lay on the grass, somewhat enjoying the view as she checked herself for damage. She stood, throwing a roll of bandages on his chest. He took it, rolling up his sleeve and bandaging the arm as his breath came out a little more labored than earlier. They had exerted a lot of energy after all. "I see four," he said with a shrug as he finished, sort of looking himself over briefly. "I know; I took a bullet, but I can finish this out. I make a habit of getting a thorough check after each mission," he said, smirking a little.

"Or is that an offer to give my examination later?" Sure, the look she gave him was less than amused by the big guy's style, but he wasn't going to pass up another opportunity to flirt. Hell, what's the worst that could happen? He was already failing, so he may as well just dig that hole as deep as he could while possible, right? He did have to admit, it was kind of enjoyable.

"Sometimes, strength helps you power through your weaknesses. But like I said, in my case I get thorough examinations in case I miss something. No pain means I can push through things normal people can't. And besides, when my time finally does come, at least I know I won't feel a thing." He tossed the bandage back to her once he'd finished.

"Alright then. You take the reigns. How do you wanna do this ****?"

Well, at least he could put two and two together. Meant his brain wasn’t bleeding. In theory.

Her no-nonsense attitude about injuries was oddly motherly, for someone who wanted kids like medieval Europe had wanted the Black Death. It sort of diffused the humor behind the smirk, of at least sucked the fun out of gushing bullet wounds. Then, he went on with some awkward flirting.

Lenna snorted. It was an ugly sound. Her voice took on a teasing tone. ”Didn’t I literally just check you out? Bullet wound. Head trauma. What, did you also bruise your ass, too? You’re on your own there. Sorry~.” She said.

Injuries could add up though, and despite the humor of her words, there wasn’t really room for joking around. Hence her follow up comment about liabilities, followed by his comment about powering through and not feeling a thing. When his time came. Lenna caught the roll of bandages as it flew towards her, and pointedly didn’t say it better be later, rather than sooner, his time. She stowed the bandages away.

They needed to be smart. Now that the entire place was on alert, their surprise assault plan of blowing crap up was kind of risky. They needed to find the target, rather than focusing on property damage. That meant avoiding as many further fights as they could, and finding the man before his security secreted him away.

”We need to find the man, soonest. You can blow up the the entrance if you think it’ll cause a good enough distraction. Might prevent further guards from getting into the courtyard. Actually...” Lenna paused, then continued thoughtfully. ”Take out the upper level windows. I’ll get us up. I think I read in the briefing that his office was on the upper level.” Maybe it was. Maybe he hadn’t already fled to a helipad on the roof, or into a secret basement tunnel out of the area. One could only hope!

Once he’d blown out the windows on the second floor, Lenna was going to levitate him up and follow him after. Then they’d fight their way to the leader and complete the mission. The plan was clear as mud.