Kate managed to throw herself out of the way of the bullet, and she crashed onto the floor and crawled to hide behind a desk. Deckard leaped over it a second later and helped her flip it to shield them better. They took turns popping up to try and shoot Husky Voice. Kate was pissed that he'd escaped somehow, but she realized someone had probably let him out since the place had been crawling with his pals. She tried hard not to think about Peter. She couldn't let that horrific image distract her right now.

"Come on, be a man," Husky Voice challenged. "You gonna hide back there with your woman?"

Deckard was reloading, and she saw his jaw was clenched. She didn't blame him. She didn't like that sentence either.

"I think a real man would finish this the hard way," he said back, cocking his machine gun.

"I'm ready if you are." Husky Voice sounded almost pleased.

"Don't," Kate hissed at him. Was he seriously going to try and win a punching war with this guy?! He handed her his gun, giving her a look that confirmed that was definitely what he was going to do. He was about to get up when Husky Voice came flying over the desk and landed on him. Kate shrieked from surprise and felt a crack on her face as a steel toed boot hit her. Gasping, she gripped her face and pulled her hand back to see blood as intense pain radiated through her. Her nose felt broken. Son of a bitch.

Deckard and Husky Voice grunted and growled at each other as they kept fighting. Kate had to admit that Deckard impressed her with his speed and agility. He hadn't been bluffing about being a black ops soldier apparently. She debated helping out, but she figured she'd just get in the way. She kept her gun trained on Husky Voice, though, just in case it started to go south for Deckard.

With a roar, Husky Voice threw Deckard up and over another desk. She heard Deckard yelp slightly as he landed and slid off, hitting the ground with everything on the desk landing on top of him that he'd hit on the way by. Kate decided to intervene, holstered her gun, and went to tackle Husky Voice next, and he was taken by surprise. She landed blows to his sides and face, getting a few kicks into his knees as well. It was suddenly very gratifying to kick the shit out of someone; she kind of understood why Deckard had wanted to do it now. She considered it payback for Halley and Peter. It gave Deckard time to get back up, and he moved to assist. Between the two of them, they had Husky Voice just about broken on the floor until he landed a kick to Kate's stomach and sent her backwards a bit. Then Deckard had his hands around Husky Voice's throat, squeezing hard.

"Deckard!" she shouted when she saw the knife. She lunged forward, but Husky Voice landed a slash into Deckard's upper leg before she got there. She pulled her gun out of its holster then, getting his attention. "Here!" She threw it, and Deckard caught it with one hand, unloading it into Husky Voice's chest a second later. When the man was dead, Deckard sat back, breathing hard. He tossed down the gun, groaning as he slid off and landed on his back on the floor. Kate went over to him, checking his wound.

"It's nothing," he said between breaths. "Flesh wound."

Kate heaved a sigh of relief as she took off her vest and then her long sleeve shirt. She ripped it and tied off his leg anyway.

"Did you really just ruin a good shirt for me?" he asked, teasing. "I thought clothes were a big thing for women."

"I'm not that kind of girl," she retorted, tying it tight. He grimaced and grunted from the pressure but didn't complain. He sat up after and studied her face.

"Your nose is broken," he noted.

"No shit Sherlock," she said. He reached out then, and she released a small scream when he snapped it back into place within seconds. "F***! OW! Why didn't you give me a head's up?!" She pressed her hands over her face and resisted howling in pain. She let out an aggravated groan instead.

"Because you wouldn't have let me," he reasoned, getting to his feet. "People avoid pain if they know it's coming."

"Ugh," Kate said, getting up herself and putting her body armor back on. She went to the small bathroom in the lab room and did her best to get most of the blood off her face with sprinkles of water she got from the tap. She also took a drink, feeling very dry suddenly. She didn't know how long they'd have water for since the power was off.

"Good idea," Deckard said from the doorway. She moved aside, wiping the water from her mouth as he also took a drink. She knew he'd gone a while without since getting locked up in here.

"Ready?" Deckard asked when he finished and rubbed his sleeve across his face to dry off, and she nodded. He handed her back her pistol that he'd picked up, and she made sure it was loaded. Afterwards, she took a second to look at him.

"Was it all a lie?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "It wasn't."

"You knew my name, so you knew who I was," she said accusingly.

"I did know you from my research, but it wasn't part of the plan to be with you like that. When I saw you, it just was impossible to walk away. I wanted to know you, even though I knew I could never have a life with you." He held her gaze, and she could tell he meant it. She wasn't sure why she'd decided to trust him. Maybe it had something to do with the things they'd done together the past two nights. If she could trust him with her like that, then she felt she could trust him here and now with this.

"Can you tell me more about Eteon?" she asked.

"I don't think I should..."

"Deckard, I'm not a child," she said, exasperated. "I know there are real monsters out there and that not everyone plays nice with each other and shares well. Just tell me."

"I know that, but these people are ruthless. If they know you know anything, you're on the hit list."

"I already am, if you haven't noticed," she retorted. "And since I decided to trust you, you should return the favor." She lifted a brow at him, and he sighed.

"Fair point," he agreed. "Fine. Eteon is a group that thinks they need to use genocide to wipe out the 'weaker' population and let the strong ones survive."

"Well, that's morbid," Kate said, wincing a little.

"It's twisted, and it cost me my reputation and my supposedly best friend," Deckard told her. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess he really wasn't a friend then, if he could do what he did."

"I'm sorry."

"They control the media, among other things," he went on, "so the world thinks I'm a traitor who murdered my entire team at MI6."

"But you didn't."

"No, I didn't."

Kate digested this information, thinking of what else to say. She didn't really know what to say, so she decided to just keep it mission related.

"Come on," she said. "I have to save my team...what's left of them."

"Kate," Deckard said, catching her arm. She turned her head to look at him. "I really do care about you. Just know that."

She studied him briefly, feeling that initial twinge inside she'd had when she first saw him. "I know."

"I really didn't mean to put you in the middle of all this. It was just supposed to be in and out. You...you were a bonus and in a big way. I wouldn't change a thing except my entrance to this office."

"I wish you had just told me. I could have helped," Kate said.

"I see that now. I regret that as well."

They looked at each other, and she couldn't help but think about how he'd kissed her, how intensely he'd made her feel things, and how he'd helped her feel a bit more confident in herself. He gave a small smile, and she moved in to catch his face with her hand, kissing him softly. He rested his hand on hers, kissing her back.

Damn, he was still so good at that.

When she finally pulled away, she was still holding his face as she looked at him. She did her best to ignore the pulsing pain in her nose.

"Just in case we don't make it," she said.

"You are not dying here today, Kate," he replied. "I promise."

She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat, and he pressed his lips against her temple briefly and smoothed his fingers over the back of her hand and wrist before letting her go and heading out the door. She followed, sweeping left to right behind him with her gun out in front.

Then, gunfire erupted down the hall to their left.

...

Deckard took out as many mercenaries as he could. By the time they found Kate's team, he could tell they'd suffered another loss before even seeing the body.

"We need to get out of here, now," Carla said. It really was so helpful to know them all from his research. They even lived up to their personalities that were described on paper.

"How, Carla?" Mason asked. "All exits are blocked."

"Not all of them," Carla answered.

"The tunnel," Kate said, realizing. Deckard could tell she was frustrated that she hadn't remembered it sooner.

"Right. We get there and get out, and we'll be fine."

Deckard looked around at the others then. The body on the floor was Victor's. He didn't see Halley and assumed the worst; he knew those two were a secret item. He imagined Victor probably died from a broken heart first.

"Tunnel is all the way down the south wing," Mason said now. "We're surrounded in here, Carla. We won't make it."

"We can do it," she insisted.

"Who's to say they haven't found it and aren't waiting for us down there?" Derrick asked next.

"Stop being pessimists!" Carla ordered.

"I'm out of ammo," Lola said now, holding up her gun. "So what do I do?"

"Here," Kate said, tossing her some from her stash. She caught it and gave Kate a nod.

"Erm, I think I speak for all of us when I say, what is he doing here?" Trent asked, noticing Deckard now.

Ah yes, the Brad Pitt Impersonator. Deckard got irritated with him just from what he'd read. He was a real show off.

"I'll take all the help I can get," Carla told him. "He hasn't killed us yet."

"He won't," Deckard promised. Not all of them, anyway, just the mole...once he got information out of them. Unless they were already dead. He hadn't quite figured out which one was the person he was looking for.

"He's had ample opportunity right now to do it, hasn't he?" Kate gestured. "You're fine."

"We stick together, we get through this," Carla said now.

"Tell that to Victor, Halley, and Peter," Lola said sourly.

"It breaks my heart, but I can't focus on that at this moment," Carla advised. "I can't afford to fall apart right now, and neither can you. I promise we'll honor them after this is over, but for now, we can't think about them. I'm sorry."

Mason made the sign of the cross over his chest while Derrick hung his head. Henrietta, Greta, Lola, and Royce just stood there quietly. Kate was chewing on the inside of her cheek. Deckard knew she was thinking about Peter. He hated that she'd witnessed something like that.

"Let's go," Carla said, leading the way. "If we get separated, make your way to the tunnel." They did a two row formation with Kate and Deckard bringing up the rear and Royce and Henrietta in the middle since they weren't tactical trained. Each of the others shot and killed mercenaries as they walked.

Halfway on their journey, a mercenary with a very large machine gun accosted them. Deckard grabbed Kate and yanked her back into a room with him as the man unleashed the bullets. There was a lot of shouting, yelling, and gunfire back. He popped out the doorway, taking a shot while the man reloaded. It struck him right in the neck, and he fell dead.

"Everyone alright?" he asked. The others poked their heads out of the rooms they'd jumped into to get away from it. A chorus of "yeas" sounded, and they reconvened in the hallway.

"Carla," Kate said, and Deckard looked to see her cheek was bleeding.

"Scratch," she dismissed. "It's fine. I promise. Let's go."

They continued on, almost reaching the tunnel entrance when White Hair showed up. He released a demonic laugh as he swept his machine gun from right to left. Everyone scattered once more, getting separated yet again.

...

Kate was getting tired of being shot at. She was tucked in a nook in the wall with Deckard as White Hair and his cronies fanned out.

"What do we do?" she asked Deckard. He sucked his teeth. A mercenary walked past, and Deckard shot him.

"Do that," he answered cheekily.

"Honestly," Kate groaned. She crouched down on the floor, looking around the corner to see what was going on. White Hair was waiting for her because he fired at her face the second she did so. She felt the wind from the bullet as it passed by right after she pulled her head out of the way. She took in a breath, calming her racing mind from the near miss. She had to focus.

"He's playing with us," Deckard said, faking outrage.

"Do you always take your gun battles so lightly?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I have to," he answered. "Distracts me from thinking it might be my last."

"That's not exactly instilling confidence in me for your abilities," she warned.

"Everyone dies, Kate," he stated. "You only play with fire so many times before you get burned."

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," White Hair mockingly sang. Deckard moved to fire off some rounds, and the man laughed again.

"Missed me by that much," he said. "I thought you were the best, Shaw? You slipping up in your old age?"

"Really? Old? I'll show you old," Deckard muttered under his breath. Out loud: "Nah. You're just holding on to your luck a bit longer than usual."

"My luck? You think I'm a lucky man?"

"You're still breathing aren't you?" Deckard countered.

"Ha, that is true. Well, perhaps you're right, but if I am lucky, then you will be dead very soon."

"You wish." Deckard was craning his neck to look into the room across from them. Kate wondered what he was thinking. The room he was looking at was a conference room.

"You are a dead man, Deckard Shaw. Your luck has run out."

"Stop copying me," Deckard shot back at him. "The luck theme is mine. Come up with your own." To Kate he murmured: "I'll cover you. Go across the hall."

"Okay."

"I'm merely borrowing the theme," White Hair insisted.

"Well, stop it." Deckard looked at Kate and held up his fingers one at a time until three. Then she launched herself across the hall with Deckard firing to cover them. She skidded into the room with him sliding in behind her and pulling the door shut behind them.

"Now what?" she asked.

"There's only one way in," he answered. "He wants us, he has to come get us."

"And we have the advantage," she said, getting it.

"Exactly." He moved to position himself in a good spot with a direct line to the door. Kate did the same thing. She made sure her two pistols were loaded, as did he. She steadied her breathing, mentally preparing for the ambush.

"You ever been to Rio?" Deckard asked, making her look at him.

"No."

"You should go. It's nice this time of year."

She wasn't really sure why he'd tell her this other than he was advising her that she might find him there someday if they survived this. He was telling her that they could see each other again. Or maybe that was just the hopeful part of her brain thinking that.

"I will," she said, and he smiled crookedly back. There was noise outside the door, making them both look at it, and she tensed, gripping her gun tightly.

"Here we go," Deckard said, aiming his machine gun. The door burst open, and she unleashed hell on each person that walked through it, but it was endless, and they were going to run out of ammo. She had to move after a moment to get a better hiding spot; she ducked under the table a bit for cover to reload. Bullets smashed into the TV screen on the wall, the chairs, and the podium in the corner. Kate was trying to figure out how they were getting out of that room when a pause allowed time for Deckard to turn and aim at the wall, creating a door in the drywall with his machine gun. She loved how smart he was.

"Come on," he said to her. She went to move, firing over her shoulder as she went at the new mercenaries coming through the door again. She turned to cover Deckard as he threw a chair through the busted drywall and made a hole.

Then she got shot.