The weather might have been enjoyable on this typical August evening, had there been a cool breeze blowing through the open plains of Wisconsin in the early evening warmth. Even dreary, dull wheat fields could hold some appeal for people wishing to "get in touch with nature" and explore the dilapidated ruins of the old farm, combing through the rusted debris like countless others before them. However, this particular evening was marred by an oppressive, stifling atmosphere of humidity and a forboding, mixed scent of ozone and petrichor in the air, enough to keep away even the most inquisitive of onlookers for the event that was to come.

The more conventional method of getting to the target would have been to drive some sort of vehicle along the cement road snaking through the great expanse of crops. However, the petite figure steadily approaching the abandoned farm had eschewed this method in favour of a more unorthodox approach. Arriving in her usual method of transportation - a favoured Aprilia motorbike - would have been far too conspicuous, and anybody laying in wait would have been alerted far too early by the growling engine. Instead, young woman loped along the dirt trail, her robust motorcycle boots sending up delicate eddies of dust with each step. She maintained a steady jog, displaying no signs of fatigue or discomfort despite the long journey from civilization, not even stopping to brush away the stray strands of dark hair that occasionally fell over her vision. She held one gun - a sawn-off, modified version of an M1 Garand, by the look of it - firmly in the grip of her left hand as she moved, with an identical model strapped to her right thigh.  Clearly, she was expecting trouble.

It was only when Rakhana drew close enough to clearly see the white-clad figure waiting at the end of the road that she slowed to a halt, about a hundred feet from him, her steel-grey eyes narrowed warily and her gun aimed squarely at his chest. The young Interpol agent was under no illusions why she was here - this had to be the opponent she was expecting to meet. The stench of ozone was stronger now than ever, which was a clear indication of lightning. She would do well to be on her guard - if the lightning was in any way associated with the man standing before her, she would have a tough fight ahead of her. Gods above, how she [i]hated[/i] lightning wielders.

Having to approach him in such a wide open space had severely restricted her ability to approach with stealth, but she was certainly not defenceless. A searing aura enveloped the girl entirely, wreathing her in over five thousand degrees Celsius of pure heat. Not yet wanting to push it to its maximum reach, the aura lingered only to a few inches beyond her reach before dissipating competely. It would certainly have an effect on the ambient temperature as she approached, and ever so slightly distorted the air with a heat haze as she walked, but there were precious few indicators other than those to hint at the intense temperatures surrounding her. Perhaps someone with keen eyesight might deduce what was happening, but to the unobservant, she would just look like a little girl with a gun. Which was perfect for Rakhana... as she had proved countless times before, it was a fatal mistake to underestimate her.

Weapon still primed and ready, she nevertheless made no attempt to fire the first shot, preferring to just stare the man in white down for the time being. She was defended and prepared for whatever he could throw at her; it was better to see what her opponent had in store for her. Then, she could at least know what she was working with. Knowledge was, after all, a priceless currency, and one that could very well save her life in this fight.