[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190909/34483687dc3207e9278aecd943416bfe.png[/img]

[b][ Liverpool, England ]
[ January 25th, 01:00AM ][/b][/center]
[hr]

Fourteen struggled to restrain a small, blossoming smile at her Handler's over-dramatised actions. Even amid a mission, surrounded by hostile forces and moments away from entering into potentially deadly combat, the semblance of jovial attitude in his movements and approach established a well appreciated reprieve. Unable to choose the missions she was sent on, and chained to the mantle of assassin regardless of her own wishes, it was a relished paradigm shift. If not for the dozens of armed men and women about the compound, she may have even laughed. Though difficult, the smile was all she could allow.

For a ways she followed along his path as he motioned her to follow, but towards the end of their journey, she began to hang back. As he counted down, she opted for the high ground; the stacks of crates and aluminium had served as substantial cover, but their verticality was another strength. Two of Fourteen's greatest assets were her genetically enhanced agility, and lithe form - despite the precarious nature of the tower, and the potential sound hazards it posed, she made short work of the climb, and finished perched over behind a ledge someways over three quarters up, keeping the structure between herself and the enemies visual range, in time for her Father to begin his impromptu sermon. She heard their bodies hit the ground, and prepared her own assault.

At the start of the gunfire, Fourteen began to shift her weight, forcing the precarious stack of cargo to readjust to its new load. Then she pulled herself up into a jump, leaping to another ledge a couple feet above, further weakening its stability, until she began to feel the shift. Stacking crate upon crate of illegal goods into multiple metre tall towards was unbearably unsafe. And something Fourteen fully intended to take advantage of, as the pillar split partway up its length, and began to fall, in the general direction of the mercenaries firing upon her Father.

The element of surprise on her side, and her body mostly obscured from enemy view as the tower collapsed, she reached into the waistline of her shorts, and withdrew the pistol she had recovered from earlier. Outgunned or otherwise, Fourteen had the upper-hand - compared to her, these people were just civilians armed with guns, about to be crushed by a monolith of munitions and drugs; easy pickings for her handgun and training, as her ride careened into the ground, scattering the contents and splintered wood across the floor of the compound. On instinct she entered into a roll, sweeping to the side of the impact to avoid the worst of it, and onto the body of a felled mercenary. With a deft movement, Fourteen scooped up the soldier's discarded automatic weapon, and settled it into a usable grip before ducking behind cover once more. Pistol on the floor at her side, she took to opening fire upon the other groups, hoping at least for some modicum of backup before making a proper push on the objective.