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"Bah. To whoever my team iz, I shall zee you all tomohrow. Fick dis. I'm going home for now." She turned on her heels rather dramatically, her tentacles retracting, before dropping her beer down onto the ground, hard. "And bartender! Your weissbeir is [i]Scheisse![/i]" A single raised middle finger at the barman, and she departed the door post-haste. Working together. Bah. She was going to prove that she could work apart from people... Right now!" Pulling a phone out of her pocket, she scrolled through the list. Assaassin number... 341. Some rando idiot. Perfect!

[hr]

As it turned out, they might be a rando idiot, but they were a rando idiot with a [i]lot[/i] of guns. As another faceless trooper ended up shot dead at her feet, she let out an annoyed growl. [b]"FICKING FIGHT ME YOU COVARD BASTARD!"[/b] The luger in her hand barked again. One in the chest, one in the throat, one in the head. The man let out a stifled gargle as he ate the lead, clawing at his throat, the Nazi taking just long enough to kick him out of the way before continuing. Half her tentacles were focused in a shield in front of her, the other half were busy throttling a poor sod to death, his mask falling off to reveal another mask, this time of terror.

Thrusting her pelvis forward, [i]Die Ficklasen[/i] blasted out a superheated charge, the Nazi letting out a [i]very[/i] innapropriate noise as she did so. Combat with Blitzen was a rather 'hands on' deal, what with all of her hands being occupied. Someone came charging at her with a beam katana, and promptly learn why that was a bad idea, the tip of her pelvis-mounted doomlaser pressed firmly against his chest, before exploding out and decimating his chest. 

By the time she had done with her minor orgasm from that, she looked around, eager to kill some more, only to find that... There was nobody left to fight. Or, rather, no [i]goons[/i] left to fight. Now there was just a large steel door between her and her target. Sadly unhooking the device from her suit, she gave the fine Hugo Boche tailoring a quick flick with her wrist to clear the gore and viscera from it, her tentacles settling in for another round of combat. 

One thing that many people underestimated was the non-combat utility of a beam katana, particularly something as hefty as [i]Die Ficklasen.[/i] A low power setting meant that the heavy metal parted like a hot knife through butter, her tentacles finishing the job by blasting the door straight forward, Newton probably weeping in his grave as the eldrich creation absorbed the recoil without a second thought. With a loud crunching noise, it smashed into the back of the room, and she found herself face to face with the person that [i]kept fucking running away from her,[/i] who, as it turned out, was an African American.

[i]"ACTUALLY, ZHAT MAKES A LOT OF FUICKING ZENSE!"[/i] There were no mufflers on the Blitzen train, her petite form launching forward, tentacles slamming into the ground in order to keep herself somewhat airborne. Beam katanas met, and whilst initially it seemed to be a battle of strength, Blitzen simply levered the laser cannon so it faced towards the enemy assassin and switched from 'beam' to 'fire' mode.

With her foe now missing a head, and Blitzen feeling rather let down after such an anticlimax, the Nazi turned and began to walk out. She just about remembered to scoop up her luger and tuck it back into a pocket, sighing as she found herself in the gloom of the city at night. "Fuck. I vhant to kill more zhings now."