The bullet disappeared. It literally seemed to simply rip apart. That was the first time anything like that had happened and Cosmina was more than a little puzzled. Everything and everyone she'd fought so far died relatively easily. A bullet in a vital spot and they had dropped like flies. Here was a man who the bullets wouldn't even touch. A rare spike of fear ran through the seasoned mercenary. She was not equipped to deal with this. Not in the least. She had not anticipated meeting another assassin on this job. She had not anticipated someone immune to bullets on this job. She had not anticipated him.

Perhaps it was merely her mind playing tricks on her but her opponent's smile seemed much more menacing now. Swift as Sleipnir, that legendary horse, Mina's thoughts raced through her options. They were few and ill suited to her desires. She wanted to stay and kill the impudent wretch that dared to live after she had struck at him. Mina's eyes glimmered with joy at the thought of watching the life fade from this man, this Martin, bit by bit. She was Mute and no one had ever dared to live after she sought their death.

Yet the portion of her that was cold logic and methodical killer said that such action was folly. Here was an unknown opponent with unknown abilities that had remained completely untouched by the most potent form of attack she possessed at this time. There was no indication of how he had done this. The assumption could be made that it was some sort of area of effect ability simply based on the fact that the bullet had not touched him at all. However beyond that Mina was not willing to guess without further evidence. Hand to hand seemed to be the only option that remained to Mina as she stood and assessed the situation while a dangerous and very likely lethal enemy stepped purposefully toward her.

It was either continue to fight or extricate herself and find some way to end him another day. Mina decided to test the effectiveness of melee combat before withdrawing. Old teachings guided her as she shifted her stance and put the gun away.

"Without question."

There was unshakable smugness in her tone. Martin would not know from her voice just how much he had shaken her invulnerable confidence. It was a thing she would not permit herself to admit.

Ah. So nice I am to give her time... for me time to watch, how her legs shift, the stance moves. How the weight is distributed. How muscles tighten in anticipation. Anticipation it is that fills me. The knowing that things will happen and the heady overtones that I am the one making them happen. I am the one who decides. My knife. My power. My edge.

Cutting you yet?

Martin shifts closer and closer, quickly yet not. The balance is preserved, on the balls of his feet he is shifting. His arm is half-raised, the shadow of the knife falling as a reminder, cutting through the light.

Shifting.

Quickly now. Stabbing at your midsection. Where the blood lies.

Martin's movement perplexed her even as she tracked it. He was quick enough to evade the blood spatter from their target's demise. Yet now he moved with an agonizingly slow pace. Mina wanted to pout over it but there were other things to think about. Staying alive was one of them. Beating Martin another.

Yes, the game.

Mina moved as the knife moved. With trained grace she evaded the strike and launched one of her own. A swift and powerful kick arced through the air toward the fellow assassin's side. Testing. Probing the other player's defenses.

Perhaps it would fail. Perhaps it would hit. Either would tell her something of her opponent that she could use. Her confidence, shaken by the utter failure of her primary weapon began to return in these moments between strikes. He was but crude matter and could be cut down like any other, odd abilities or no.