[h1][center][color=ed1c24][b]Deon Erickson[/b][/color][/center][/h1]

It wasn't to hard for Deon to tell that SOLDIER knew he was present at the scene. He could practically hear them screaming his name. Few people ever take note of him, and rarely with such anger. Mostly it was with fear or respect. He was good either way in most cases. Only those who had the nerve to get in his way would use that kind of tone with his name. But for what ever reason those who had spoken his name took a different priority. Deon watched from across the street as the agents stormed the club. In a way, Deon wanted so much to be inside when they stormed the place. He wanted the feel for action, to have those he slays cowering at his feet. But he wasn't, which is better for the long term. He's already making things harder now that people know he is back after all these years. Like many officers from the Nightwars, he had been in hiding. Though his mistake tonight may have cost him some much needed time. He would have to speed up his plans to compensate for his actions.

Erickson wanted so much to taste the blood of his enemies, so much to bring fear back into the minds of the mortals. But that wasn't his job tonight, tonight was a night for allies. Not for creating fear. Though, if he could do both, he would. Deon pulled a burner phone from his coat pocket, he kept them handy for times like this when planning ahead was the key. He dialed his desired number and held the phone to the side of his head. "[color=ed1c24]We're stepping things up, get going.[/color]" He hung up and crashed the phone in his hand. Leaving nothing left to track, even if there was something to track from.

The former warlord always loved a good fight, and with SOLDIER forcing him to speed things up, this gave him an opportunity to do so. He was going to have to change so many plans now to compensate for the fact this his presence is now know. But he was a smart man, he could make things work in the most horrible of situations. It's about winning the war, not the battle. Deon Erickson walked up to the club shedding his trench coat letting the two M14s drop and hang freely from their respective slings. The guns had no stocks now, and had shortened barrels. Loaded with incendiary rounds, the 7.62 bullets could do anything from cutting through metal to crippling a mortal with a single shot. Then again, most mortals could only take a few shots before they were forced to stop fighting.

Deon would wait until the agents had taken a foot stand inside the club before going in. He would start by taking out the exterior guards, then he would start by picking off the bravest of the fighters. Leaving the rest to buckle down as Deon laid waste to them. It was a really vague last minute plan, but he was limited on options now. Maybe if he took out these agents his name wouldn't spread so fast, could by him a few more days. And if not, his name was already out. This way at least he can have some fun.

[h1][center][color=0072bc]Kathryn Miller[/color][/center][/h1]

Normally Kathryn could survive a few bullets. But as her father kept shooting, one of the Anti-Material bullets had grazed her. When the bullet made contact it almost intently started ripping through her flesh. Kathryn wasn't sure what the bullet was doing exactly, or how it was doing it, but she could smell the many chemicals working there way through her. They didn't get far though, they soon stopped their disintegration progress only a couple seconds after contact. She wondered what would happen if one had hit her in the chest or head, and not just graze her arm. Her reflexes were fast, but Hank was able to level the playing field with the gun in his hand. Though if he ran out of bullets she could gain the upper hand. Though the blade could be a problem. She was still faster.

Kathryn took cover behind one of the parked cars by the docks. She wasn't sure if her father had seen her take cover, that wasn't important. She needed to rest, she was still weak, and what ever that bullet had done to her it was still taking time for her systems to repel it. She was about to run again when she heard the sound of her father pulling back the hammer on his gun. Standing up now she'd be shot, if she stayed he'd get a good angle and she'd be shot. She had to hope his aim was still off.

She ran out from behind the car in a panic to get away, though she didn't get far before noticing that no shots were being fired. In fact, she was even having trouble hearing Hank at all. She turned to see her father on the ground, his heart weak, skipping beats. "[color=00aeef]Oh shit![/color]" She screamed as she ran to her father. He had one hand loosely gripped on the gun, and one hand holding his chest. She didn't know what to do, she cared for her father but she knew the moment he had the chance he would kill her. A hospital, that was his best bet. She went to pick him up, only to cut her knee on the dropped blade her father once had. It burned, it burned more then anything that has ever touched her, even more then the bullet that tried to eat away at her. Took longer to heal then it should have as well. Once she did heal, she grabbed the gun from her father and threw it as far as she could before dragging Hank to the nearest car and taking him to the hospital. Hank would live, though Kathryn would be long gone by the time he came too.