Natalie kept her head low, as she moved around her cover, PKP blaring, taking out three men as she screamed, angry and Amazonian in her approach. Sliding behind a bale of logs, she heard the noise of a pair of Hinds vector in, the Russian woman knowing full well that this was a reinforcement lift. The ropes were deployed, as the team began rapelling in, barely before the helicopter had even stopped. She laid down fire on a group that was shooting the chopper, wasting them clean, as a .50 opened up. It ripped through the wood, as she dived down, laying down flat, right onto her chest. Her bra was becoming looser. At this rate, the next time she saw Victor, it was going to be a wardrobe malfunction with her covered in shit, not a scene where she'd use him for cover. Moving around, she saw the Vodnik pull in, and the sound of a Kokon rip the jeep apart, as the Hinds pulled out. Natalie exhaled, as she saw Victor come over, in his usual trend of anarchy. 
"Holding for you, Brute." She said, looking over at him, like a Knight in shining armor, taller than she was and a hell of a fucking force of nature. Had he tipped that truck over? Either way, in this rainy, burning hell of a Russian Naval base, shit was indeed hitting the fan. And Natalie wanted Maxim.