Harry dived into the small run down house as a couple of mutants fired at him. They had finally noticed him, huh? Well, he'd have to make sure they were. Maybe by a little game of [i]bullet tap[/i]. He crawled backwards, towards the wall, and took a slight breath. He looked at his carbine, and intuitively knew that it required a reload. He quickly and surely reached for the operating rod, and its cold metal touch metal slightly awkward to his somewhat sweaty hands. "Damn this place" he whispered, as he pulled the rod back, causing the now nearly empty cartridge to fall to the wooden floor with a [i]clack[/i]. A single round clicked out of it on the impact, and fell on to Harry's knee. He'd deal with that later. He reached for his chest pocket, pulled out a cartridge, and smacked it with practiced precision. He then pushed the rod back, which placed another bullet into the chamber.

He took a quick look out from his grounded position on the floor. It was only a second, and already a bullet whizzed by. There had been several, maybe a dozen or so. Even more was damn more likely. Perhaps leaving the team wasn't the brightest tactical move, but it wasn't too bad. He had the ammo for this. He grinned, and remembered his training. Luck had always been on his side, and he wasn't running out today. 

He rolled out into the doorway, and was immediately in a firing crouch. The rifle was raised in milliseconds, and the reticle aimed on his first target, another green mutie. "Fuck you" he said, as he fired several times, changed targets, and spoke again "Fuck you too, you, and you all" as he fired several times into a different target. Ammo out, and not everything was dead. "Oho, how 'bout no, mates?!" he said, using his front leg to push him rolling back into the house. And not too late, either. Several bullets were whizzing past him again, and two even hit him. Thankfully, the first one tinged off his armor, and the second only scraped his shoulder. Well, scraped wasn't the right word, as Harry realized he was bleeding slightly. Wasn't too bad.

He reloaded again, and came the conclusion that he could not pull the same thing again, as there was now a near-continuous stream of fire going through the door. He'd have to get to a window. He crawled to his right as fast as he could, and got to his feet. A one by one meter window, surprisingly large. He jumped in front of it, smashed the window out with the barrel of his rifle, and fired without aiming. The bullets hit a couple more, but didn't kill all of them.

"Round two, bitches." he said, as he went through his ammo. When he heard the familiar click of a cartridge running out, he pulled the rod again, and let the cartridge drop. He turned away, and ran towards the backdoor, and jumped through the old rotting wood. He had lost the element of surprise, most definitely. They were also advancing too fast, faster than he'd anticipated. As he smashed through the wood, the first mutant must have run in with a rebar club, and roared. Harry let his rifle drop, but it wasn't going to the floor, thanks to the strap. He pulled out his .22 and combat knife. 

He waited for the mutant to come out on his side, quietly. He didn't have to wait too long, as a rebar club wielding mutant burst right through where he'd come out through. He immediately emptied the pistol's cartridge into the mutant, who still didn't die. "Oh no" he throught, but the emotion he showed was a gritting of his teeth, as he tackled the mutant, and drove the knife into the bullet wound. It must've been the final blow, as the surprised mutant fell to the wooden ground, with a thud. He was now covered in mutie blood. Didn't matter. He noticed that in the small scuffle, he'd dropped his pistol. That didn't matter either.

He would have to reload the rifle [i]immediately[/i], and one handed. It would take longer, but he had his bloddied knife out, so he had confidence in himself. He was able to put the cartridge in, before the next mutant came through. This was ridiculous and unrealistically similar to a holo-game. He stabbed forward, and his knife pierced through the tough flesh of the mutant. "Luck, dammit" he thought, since this one wasn't wearing armor. He dragged the blade up through the flesh, only to be thrown back to the ground by the thing. It was wounded, and enraged. 

"I need a bigger salary if this is the kind of things I have to do." he whispered, as the mutie jumped onto him, unto the receiving end of the upraised blade. It went through its skin, and must 'ave hit something vital, as the mutie squirmed on his, and died. The thing was a dead weight, pun intended, and was bleeding right onto Harry. He pushed the body off, and heard Deathstroke speak orders. He sighed after the man had spoken, and pulled his bloodied self up. "Covered in mutie blood, but ready to serve, sir. I'll get right to the meeting place, and be there in......." he looked out, and estimated the distance. "..... three minutes." That was all he said, and he consumed another stick of white chocolate as he left the house, breaking into a jog towards the building where they were meeting. 

When he got there, he didn't say anything, and hoped nobody noticed him, covered in mutant blood. '[i]Flanking work? Fine by me. [/i]' he thought, in response to his orders.