>Port Ibex, Île de la Tempête, Reunion

>Fireteam Shadow

>Dawn Chorus

>0620 Hours

Eloise crouched on the roof of a storeroom not too far from the comms tower. She'd knocked out more of the EM devices en route; they were becoming more numerous and it was becoming a considerable aggravation, slowing her down as she had to move around them, eliminate them, or otherwise deal with them being there. 
However, she was in place at the tower. The hacking device rode in a pouch attached with MOLLE to the outside of her quiver, and she remembered the instructions; open the necessary electrical junction box (or whatever it was), and attach the cables. The rest would take care of itself, more or less. 
A trio of sentries guarded the base of the tower from where it stretched up into the lightning skies, red anti-collision lights aglow. 
Smoothly, the svelte woman drew back the bowstring and let fly with a standard, composite arrow, a second on the way before the first even hit, thudding into the throats of the sentries with ghostly silence. The third didn't even hear them die, and he barely had time to get a gasp out as she appeared before him, the blank, gleaming mask of her helmet and the billowing folds of her cloak and hood combined with the tactical gear and holsters strapped over her almost like some kind of mil-spec ghost. Her fist rammed out like a piston as he reeled back in surprise, bending double as the air rushed out of his lungs. As he folded down, the knife held in the same hand came up, through the soft bottom of his jaw and up into his head, and he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. She turned with the weight and motion, letting it pull the blade free of his skull, wiping it on his uniform before she slid it back into the sheath and moved into the fenced compound around the tower. 
A few moments work had the device installed and she moved on, heading for the rendezvous with Purna, keeping to the shadows and avoiding any contact as she moved, only pausing to eliminate any more EM devices as she moved. 
She listened to him explain the command centre as she moved, absorbing the information and replying with a soft, 'confirmed; keep it quiet, keep it fast, and break things". Despite the non-formal wording, her voice was still the same whispery quiet almost monotone... which almost somehow made her casual wording all more amusing.

She joined him wordlessly at the entrance to the building, falling easily into tactical movement with him through muscle memory and plenty of training. She likewise moved cloaked; she always compared it to the phrase 'oil across water', the sliding of surroundings across the smart material of the cloak and gear. Purna explosively vaulted through the window and she took the door - more boring and conventional, but nonetheless effective... especially as she leapt into a forward roll, bowling one down and shooting him as she came back up with an almost casual afterthought without looking from the Beretta Cougar, a pair of throwing knives into another that Purna had wounded and not killed. They parted ways, and she flowed up the stairs, picking up speed and springing off the steps, to launch herself off of the wall and over the banister railing, her foot whipping out and smashing a woman across the face. She crumpled, and Eloise rolled forward, another pair of knives into the man ahead of her; one at his knee to bring him down, another into his hand to stop him firing his handgun, and a rapid punch to his face to put him down. The woman behind her struggled up, only in time to be taken out by a shot from her suppressed machine pistol, another putting down the man ahead. The other guards on the floor moved toward her, sub-guns drawn and voices raised; She moved fast and hit hard. Stealth wasn't necessary now they'd seen her, but she could move and fight quick enough for them to do much about. She sprang forward, launching off of the walls and into her assailants. A flurry of throwing knives, suppressed shots, and bone-crunching, acrobatic hand-to-hand combat or close-in knifework. 
The racked servers and related equipment for running the security systems lay ahead, and she debated the best way to deal with them, before opting for the most simple; picking up a pair of the dead security's guns and just going full auto on the racked equipment - the building was soundproof, and the equipment would be out of action for long enough for the rest of the team to do their job. Smashing the butts of the guns into the equipment and ripping out handfuls of cables or components and smashing them under her heel. 

As alarms sounded and the rush of booted, running feet along with it, she took aback in alarm; where had this sudden surge of reinforcements come from? Had they been discovered, what had changed? Nonetheless; Eloise's instinct and training kicked in and she fell back on her normal mantra; escape, evade, survive, strike back.
She slid into cover in the shadows of the room, ducking behind equipment to exit through the door the would-be search party entered through, swung over the stair rail and then down its' side, and out through the window Purna had entered through.

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Eloise crouched on a rooftop, like a shimmering, almost invisible gargoyle. The directional mics on her suit, along with her ever-present comm link to Purna transmitted the words, and the zoom on her optics followed the scene as this new man spoke. 
Already, she hated him; he postured and posed. Confident in his own skill and status; but arrogant with it, revelling in his link with Raven and Purna to indulge his own sense of superiority and his ego. 
However, none of that stopped him from both being dangerous, and also having Purna at his mercy. Her lips were pressed into a tight, thin line under her featureless mask and her hands balled into tight fists, clenched around her bow until her knuckles ached as she watched the moment unfold and her mind raced as she looked for an opening to act. 

As the Heavy walked into the scene, she felt that sense of dread mounting, but even then; she refused to admit defeat. That wouldn't come until there was literally, physically, mentally, nothing she could do. And at that point, it would be because she was dead - and it wouldn't matter at that point.

Her heart leapt as the confrontation built, and then the transfer of control to her. She grimaced, biting down the rising acid in her throat. Fifty to one... she knew her worth and her skills, how lethal she was and that wasn't her arrogance. She could take on two, [i]maybe[/i] three on one with odds in her favour and stealth on her side. [i]Maybe[/i] more, if they were arrogant, barely-trained cartel 'soldiers' or criminal organisation thugs. But fifty to one, knowing she was there and actively looking... never; even with all the best luck in the world, they'd run her down through exhaustion, attrition, and she'd run out of weaponry. 
But, she still had tricks. Still had those skills; and plenty of weapons. It wasn't over yet. 
Purna's words hit true, and she was already in motion as Bakker started to count out loud. 

Eloise's archery was olympic standard in quality for her accuracy and her range. She had learned from a range of forms and styles, blending their tenets and practices into something of her own hybridised, fluid, practical and lethal style. She might even have been better than some of the professionals - as Purna's thoughts had said, William Tell could fuck off. And Robin Hood right behind him. 
But how [i]fast[/i] she could shoot, how tricksy her shots were; that was another thing. 
Hawkeye and Green Arrow were two of her favourite comic book characters, and she had, in her own downtime, attempted some of the things she'd seen them do... and there really was no good way of firing more than one arrow at once. Especially if you actually wanted to [i]hit something[/i]. 
And especially when you were moving too... 
As such, it was, unquestionably, some kind of world record as three arrows, within heartbeats of one another, hit the necks of the regulars standing guard around Purna's prone form and were messily decapitated as the frag heads exploded. Barely moments after, a pair of throwing knives whacked into Bakker's gun arm; an EMP and an explosive in twain, before she launched herself at him, feet first as they detonated, using her weight to throw off his arm and get the guns' muzzle as far enough away from Purna as possible. She didn't wait to tangle with the opposing Light; instead the Heavy ahead of her, the mountain of armour plates and that enormous Kord machine gun and thermite launcher that were already moving to bear on her, were her concern. 
She kept moving, flowing forward in a sprint. 
[i]Towards[/i] the bigger, more heavily armoured, man. 
Every last explosive throwing knife and the last of her EMP ones were flung toward him, before she dropped and rolled as they detonated, the machine gun thundering and chattering, the whines and screams of ricochets around her. Then her bow was back in her hands. 
Acid arrows and armour-piercing next as she fought to slow the heavy, shooting from prone, flowing around their movement and shooting from all angles, then explosives, as quick as she could to get them off-balance, open up and exploit whatever damage she'd caused. 
The machine gun thundered and hammered, and thermite lashed and rained out, eating away at her cloak and leaving it ragged with a close hit. She sprang aside as she over-calculated, grew too daring, and that massive machine-gun roared [i]too[/i] close, close enough that the huge 12.7 mil rounds whipped past her, close enough to tear past her side and send her staggering and spinning to the ground with a close hit. 
She gasped in a ragged breath, rolling aside with a titanic effort as one of those armoured fists smashed the tarmac where her face had been a moment earlier. She rolled to her feet and made to spring back, but one of those massive, powered hands grabbed the smouldering remnants of her cloak and hauled her back. She weaved, dodging another swipe that parted the air with an audible [i]whoosh[/i]; but the follow up caught the edge of her mask, shattering the visor and sending it spinning. 
She used the motion, launching into a spin and landing, shooting a grapple arrow that tangled in the workings of the heavy armour, exposed by her attacks. She ducked and weaved, pulling the cable with her and tangling it around the heavy. 
Her last arrow to him, she didn't even shoot at him, instead snagging it through the looped cable and then moving, dashing away and dragging Purna with her, gasping ragged breaths, her eyes wide and pupils tiny with fear and adrenaline, hand clutching her side where the kord's heavy round had winged her. 
"Move, fast. That last arrow, well. It was a beacon. He literally has a target on his back right now"
As they ran, she sent the signal to trigger the explosives she'd planted, and threw a pair of smoke and flashbang grenades in their wake.