AN: I'm not super happy with this chapter. In fact I debated whether I wanted to introduce multiple viewpoints this late in ths story. I feel like it doesn't add much that couldn't be summarized later on. However, later on there will be some scenes with her that I feel would have more emotional oomph if they were experienced in the present tense. It also justifies a sudden necessary vp switch a few chapters from now *evil grin* *grin falls away as author goes to cry in a corner*.

As soon as Jillian was out of sight of the group she broke into a relentless sprint. She'd be damned if she didn't reach the base long before they had any chance of attracting Jaime's attention. Exhaustion wouldn't mean a thing to her in an hour. She ran and ran until her legs felt like jello and her throat burned as if she was breathing vodka.

The warehouse the duo had converted into a base loomed ahead of her. Jillian slowed down enough so that she could regain her dexterity before sneaking in. She and Milo had spent half an hour earlier in the day painstakingly reviewing maps of the building covered with scribbles of what few scraps of intelligence they had received about the place. He had offered more times than she cared to count to go in her place. She knew the group would need him infinitely more than her, but it broke her heart to know that he would be losing someone else.

Milo would wait to attack until Martin left. Every second she wasted was another chance that they could be caught.

Jillian pressed up against the brick wall of the building and peered inside. There had been no cameras on the outside of the building. Through the tinted windows in the door, however, she could just make out two silhouettes. Her gun had already been fitted with a silencer before she left. She ducked down and shoved through the double doors, her gun already trained on the first guard. A few rounds of bullets to the chest and he was on the ground before the second guard even had the safety off.

There was no mercy in her heart for these people. They were waiting for her, knowing she would come. They had chosen to follow two lunatics into battle and they should have known there would be a price to pay.

She peppered the second guard's chest. Whenever any emotion threatened to overcome her she pushed it into a little black box at the back of her mind. She tried not to think about the fact that there was very little now that separated her from her enemies except who they were fighting for. Both sides were prepared to commit a massacre. The only difference was that one wanted to end the battle.

Sweeping the lifeless bodies out of clear line of sight, she pressed onward in the direction she knew would lead her to the room holding the vast majority of the hostages. What was eating away at her was that there were two rooms. It was likely that someone in the first room would send off an alarm before she could reach the second. She could only hope that the others would have enough foresight to risk an escape amidst the chaos.

For the next ten minutes she continued to take out unsuspecting guards. It seemed that Jaime and Martin hadn't bothered to put them through any training exercises on how to actually use a weapon. She wasn't surprised. Something felt undeniably off about one of those two, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It went past the human capacity for destruction. Even transcending superhuman, perhaps. It also surprised her that the vast majority of them were using traditional weapons. Lucky her.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the realization that she had reached the hostage room. One move... she thought, and I screw everything up. Unless she could get every guard in that room before one of them used telekinesis, she would have mere minutes to lead the hostages out and set explosives around the building. She could almost feel Milo standing next to her: the old Milo. Still snarky as ever, but still with life behind his eyes. Was this what happened when you knew you were about to die? She wasn't sure if her brain was taunting her or making a last-ditch effort to comfort her. "Now or never," the ghostly vision reminded her. "Let's blow this popsicle stand." Jillian smiled and fought back tears. She had a feeling that soon the real Milo's last words would ring hauntingly true.