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From the safety of her riptide, Six watched as the boy noticed her. Well, her presence, to be exact. The same way that she could ascertain the boy a threat, he could understand that whatever was under the ground was just as dangerous. She watched as he ran and left no respite for Six. Had he stopped to sate his curious desire, he could have faced the barrel of a pistol. It wasn't a good thing for Six that he listened to the danger.

But being in the riptide was like cheating. It was hard to see, but one could see until the complexity took over. In such a simple landscape—snow, open air, and trees—one could easily see the dangerous boy running back to the big snow vehicle. If the boy could sense danger like that, then she would need an actual distraction. Either someone who could avoid that ability of his or enough cannon fodder to preoccupy him. At least, she hoped. If his ability let him crush multiple heads at once, then she'd probably need to rethink her game plan.

By blessing, a new ally (or so she prayed) flew onto the scene in a car. The occupants were too difficult to discern. Someone moving at that speed in a vehicle was practically invisible. The car slammed on the breaks and the driver got out. They shot at her enemy, luckily. Then a familiar figure hopped out the back. A terrifying man as always; fat, horrible, but he moved like an angel of death. But the question was, did she ask for help? Could she handle it on her own?

Fat bastard or crushed skull?

...

...

Fat bastard it was.

Quickly swimming to the car, she swam into the back seat and hopped back into the real world. Soaked in water, she emerged to the frost instantly collecting on her clothes, shivering as she rolled onto the hidden safety of the back seat's floor. The wetsuit she always wore wouldn't be able to keep her warm forever. She was used to cold, though. As long as this wrapped up quickly, she could warm up later. Frostbite was a bitch, but so was headcrush. Out of the two of them, you were considerably more likely to survive the former.

[b]"Fucking kid crushes heads!"[/b] She choked out at the fat bastard. These were practically her first words she spoke to him by her own volition. [b]"He's hiding behind the big vehicle thing!"[/b] She vaguely pointed to its direction from inside the car. Would the handler able to deal with it on his own? Honestly, maybe. Anything to increase her chance of living through the sudden firefight.