It was surprising to her, really, that the other figure had let Rakhana approach as close as she had. Not that one hundred feet was close by any means, but most ranged weapon wielders usually tried to take her out before she got too close. And she knew this one was armed, it didn't take any sort of preternatural sixth sense to realise that, given his obvious stance. This was was just as well-armed as her; concievably, he was even more so, in fact as he had both guns out, whereas her second was still sheathed.

A lesser individual might have felt disadvantaged by that fact, but not Rakhana; she could dual wield as well as anyone she'd ever met, but her favoured style of gymnastic fighting meant it was advantageous for her to keep a hand free. She could do so much more than just shoot, which was eventually evident to every opponent she had ever beaten into the dust. The young gymnast would not let complacency overtake her, however... how could she? That was the fatal flaw shared by all of her opponents - they were always so sure they would be victorious. Alas, they were sorely mistaken.

The moment she caught sight of the black mass spilling forth seemingly from beneath the clothing of the man before her, Rakhana pushed her building thermochemical energy through the balls of her feet, flinging herself backwards with all the speed she could muster and barely lifting from the ground as she did so. It was not her absolute top speed, with her adrenaline injection not yet active, but it was fast enough to push her backwards twenty feet in the blink of an eye, giving her a slight piece of extra distance and keeping that unknown mist at bay. Better not to interact with that at all, not until she knew what it did.

However, relying solely on evasion was too chancy for the Russian's taste, and the moment she landed she bolstered her aura; instead of being merely a searing but otherwise nondescript heat aura, it was now a corporeal, translucent field of ionised plasma alongside the intense heat. This defense had, in the past, saved her life more times than she could count, burning through inadequate melee attacks and ranged projectiles alike; thus, she hoped that it would be able to render this black mist useless as well. She could not be a hundred percent certain of this, however, so the plasma level aura would continue to be her plan B - evasion was the first course of action until she had more information.

And in fact, the decision to throw up her tried and tested plasma aura did, in fact, save her life. Not from the black mass, which hadn't yet advanced to her new position, but from her opponent's next move - a fiery bolt of lightning emanating from the man's face. He had given no visible tells, and the stream of white-hot energy would have been too fast to dodge at even the breakneck speeds that Rakhana utilised. However, her plasma aura had the ability to double as protection against lightning based attacks with an effect akin to a Faraday cage, diverting every single one of the now-fragmented threads of energy harmlessly around and away from her.

Her steel-grey eyes narrowed slightly at this confirmation of her suspicions - the person before her was indeed a lightning wielder. [i]Who does he think he is, the gods-damned lightning emperor?[/i] she cursed mentally, though outwardly she allowed none of her irritation to show on her face. She simply fired her already outstretched Shiva with a round of pure, superheated plasma. The round flew towards the stranger with more speed than typical firearms ammunition, due to the non-Maxwellian distribution of the plasma that the rounds were comprised of. And, if they were allowed to get within range of the white-clad man, Rakhana would detonate the rounds into a buckshot-style, hoping to inflict upon her opponent (and potentially his mysterious dark cloud as well) a shower of plasma shrapnel, specifically designed to burn through armour and similar defences. In the meantime, she kept alert, ready at any moment to move again should it be necessary.