Antoine stepped onto the plane, bound for their destination, with a certain degree of trepidation. She knew she was emotionally compromised for this mission, hell she could still feel it in her heart. Bjorn's death was terrible, but for now she had to shove it down for the sake of the team. Howie was a great help, being her best friend and helping her stay sane. She tucked into her seat, and whoever had the misfortune to sit next to her, and napped until they arrived, just as always.

---On Mission--

Antoine was the very embodiment of stealth, the answer to the prayers of such organizations as the NSA or CIA, Mossad and MI6. However, right now, those qualities served Scimitar well. Slipping through enemy hallways had been simple, if time-consuming, when she didn't have this cloak. She'd had to dart from shadow to shadow, and simply kill anyone in halls where there was no safe passage. Now, however, that had all changed with the addition of this cloak. She slipped through brightly lit halls easily, her natural slow pace serving to prevent her from being seen even through the device. However, unfortunately for all, Antoine was here to "cope" with the death of her beloved Bjorn in her own way.

Antoine had accepted Bjorn's death at his own hand, and in a way it was better than dying in battle. No mess, little pain if done right, and on his own terms, but she couldn't shake this feeling. She hadn't been enough for him, her clear affections hadn't been enough to make his life worth living. Howard was a wonderful man, and he was helping her move on wonderfully, but she couldn't shake this sadness. Despite her actions, her and Howard weren't an item, they were just comfortable enough to play around. After all, they were a close duo and frequently worked in tandem for Scimitar ops, and had for years. Which was why he surely knew what she would do in here, the havoc she would wreak in Bjorn's name.

She had slipped through towards their exosuit hangars, leaving a trail of silent kills tucked into closets and toilet stalls. Now, as she entered, she found exactly what she was looking for. A large mechanized suit, featuring an M134 Chaingun and an automatic 40mm grenade launcher. Now, under normal circumstances, Antoine would delicately snip a few wires here, maybe add a demo charge, to ensure the destruction of this beast. Now, however, she need an outlet, and mass mayhem would do just fine. She easily ghosted in and powered it up with some effort, after sealing herself in. She must've been briefed on this hundreds of times, but it never made it less distasteful. Exosuits were expressions of brute force, a sign of humanity's inner animal coming out, and didn't match the quiet, civilized nature of Antoine's personal nature and style. However, right now, she needed to let out her inner animal, to bellow her grief and sadness to the world.

-------------4 Minutes, 39 seconds Later------------------

Antoine had piloted the suit into the elevator and up to the top floor of this Chilean facility, and then all hell broke loose. While screaming and crying on the enemy's own COM channel, loud enough to drown out all else, she unleashed hell. The enemy wasn't sure what to think at first, as their own suit began gunning down soldiers and blowing up key targets, while what must've sounded like the pained crys of a banshee filled their channels. The suit walked around, spitting death and destroying the building while stepping on enemy forces. Without their heavies, Antoine was filling the role of tank with this suit, and she was doing a good job. Once the enemy realized what had happened, they were turning their firepower on the stolen suit, but it didn't matter. The suit was built to withstand fire, and Antoine knew it, and so she simply cried and killed, an implacable angel of death.