Let's try again:D Hello again:) I did it. And I have no regrets. Yep. Whumpage.
I hate what I've become.
Nate fell to the ground hard, his head colliding with the floor and all air leaving his lungs from the impact with the hitter's weight on top of him. His ears rang as the sound of shattering glass and machine guns coupled with the screams of surprise and terror from his team. All but one. Eliot let out a vicious snarl as he tried to cover Nate from the debris flying everywhere. Time seemed to slow as the mastermind tried to peak past the bulk of the hitter covering him, desperate to see if the rest of his team was alive. Nate felt a horrible sense of déjà vu as he caught a glimpse of Sophie's long black hair. They had both been in a situation like this when they conned that Vector guy, or wait... Had that been his name? Nate shook his head, his mind scrambled in a situation like this. Scenarios ran through his mind, trying to find a way that prevented the least collateral damage. He couldn't think of any situation that would end without any harm. If the bullets kept firing... Well that was a ridiculous thought. The shooters had to run out of bullets sometime didn't they? In answer to his thoughts, there was sudden silence in the apartment as the firing ceased. Nate felt a strong grip on his arm as he was pulled roughly across the room and behind his office desk in the corner of the apartment, but the firing picked back up as soon as he moved, and now, there were bullets flying from all four windows in the apartment, not just the two next to the kitchen. The mastermind realized that Eliot was moving him to- conveniently one of the only places the bullets couldn't reach. They both fell down beside the desk, not all as gracefully as could be. Nate heard Eliot panting beside him and looked over to see the man had his eyes clenched tight, arm around his torso. Suddenly scared that his friend might have been hit, Nate leaned to get a better look at the spreading wetness on the hitter's black button up shirt. Glazed eyes popping open, Eliot moved away from the masterminds gaze, keeping his right hand pressed to his left side and growling at the intrusion. Nate got the hint and directed his attention elsewhere, like the rest of his team. Peaking over the desk, the mastermind saw Parker hunched in the gap between the two windows in the kitchen, a smart thought but still at risk. Hardison was at the other wall in a relatively same position as Parker, not that the hacker could be anywhere else. Nate looked around for the others when he caught a glimpse of raven colored hair. It seemed in the time it took Eliot to drag the both of them to the desk, Sophie and Layla were able to make it into the bathroom by the front door. That was a safer area than anywhere else. But with the hail fire going rampant, the shooter from Hardison's wall had a direct shot at them if they moved out from the open door and the mastermind wasn't sure they would have time to open the front door and get out unscathed. Turning back around, the mastermind tried to formulate a plan, but the loud noises attacked his brain and he felt his concentration was shot. Maybe he was too drunk for this. He felt Eliot shift next to him and looked over to check on his friend. The hitter's panting was escalating and Nate wasn't sure it was completely from the wound the man was failing to hide. Feeling his gaze, Eliot turned his head to look at him and Nate could see the bright greyish white taking hold of the hitter's burning eyes. An involuntary shudder ran through the mastermind and he turned away as he saw the growing distance in the depth of those eyes. He was losing it. When a better time than to have a drugged hitter in a time of crisis? That thought brought new chills to accompany the sight of the growing emptiness of any emotion but rage in the hitter's eyes. Moreau planned this. Nate wasn't sure how, didn't have all the details, but he just knew. Too many variables to be coincidental. Nate looked once more at Eliot and saw the man had set his head back against the desk, eyes closed, mouth open in slowing pants and revealing the gleaming fangs inside. Worry punched the mastermind in the gut, because no one should be this calm in a situation like this. Eliot was calming himself too much, saving energy to do something. It was almost as if the hitter was sleeping, but Nate knew better. The bullets ceased once again, Nate could only assume the shooters were either reloading or baiting them like the first time. Either way, Eliot took the bait. Jumping up and throwing himself over the desk, the hitter fell to a crouch on the floor and launched for the door just as the bullets returned full blast. Nate flinched as he saw the hitter jerk forward into the doorway, and he knew the man had likely acquired some new wounds. The mastermind could only hope they weren't serious but turning back around and seeing the red puddle on the floor where the hitter once was... Nate shuddered again. What could he do now that their hitter was gone? Did he go and get help? Nate almost laughed out loud at that one. Yes, the bleeding guy with fangs and temper issues is going to get help. No, Nate knew what the man was going to do. All he had to do is wait. He looked over the desk yet again and made eye contact with the others. He tried to give silent reassurance to them but all he got back was terrified glances. He could only assume he looked the same. Then, as if like a switch, the firing stopped from the windows above Hardison. Nate hoped Eliot didn't kill the shooters but if all he had to go by was the empty but also enraged look in his eyes... Nate wasn't sure what the man would do. And that scared him. Eliot was always about control he'd never before...
The firing above Parker stopped also. Likely the second set of shooters retreating so they didn't end up like the first set.
The room was silent for a few moments as no one moved or even breathed.
Wide eyes slowly peaked out of the bathroom, stopping to look around, then fully revealing the young werewolf, Layla, Nate reminded himself. She slowly stood and stepped out of the bathroom, the first to do so, as the others were conscious of their humanity and took more caution. She gazed around at the destruction and then the team, fear and regret in her wide eyes. But only for a minute. Soon after, a brief flash of hardness then soft humor took permanence in the deep green depths. Nate took a curiosity to this reaction, relieved to see the shock on her face to confirm it wasn't a setup, but suppressed the thought for later, the real problem finding his injured hitter in full hunter mode. He hoped Boston was prepared.