His steelblue eyes followed the woman's every move as she purringly spoke of the specifications of the vehicle. It wasn't the purr of a kitten, but rather that of a tigress, sly, yet playful, as became apparent by the almost mockingly jotted 'sir'. She had some nerve to sit where she now sat, but, he had to admit with a speck of admiration, at least she knew her armored vehicles. That he could accept. Not that he would let her know that, of course. Pjotr met her gaze with an adamant grim one of his own until she averted her eyes, yet he continued to watch her settle on the passenger seat and only stopped when he himself sat on his. As attractive as she was, with her brown, almond shaped eyes, her raven black hair and her feline suppleness, he was sure that cat got some claws he'd better avoid to turn his back on.<br/>Pjotr also had the slight suspicion that, while he might seem like he won this battle, the war was far from over. His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the clock on the dashboard.<br/><br/>Time's up.<br/>Pjotr leaned over and took a look at the spartanic back. Only two were occupying it. One of them was the man who he had guessed to have been a soldier back in his day and, sure enough, the ghilly suit he wore and the almost ancient appearing rifle in his lap seemed to confirm Pjotr's hunch. He nodded at him. Slightly shifting, he became aware of very different approach to combat. The cutting-edge weaponry wielded by and state of the art armor clad on quite young a woman surprised Pjotr. It struck him as odd to see such expensive equipment on someone who may or may not be almost a decade younger than him. Something else was off, but currently he didn't have the time to find out what it was.<br/>Still, he nodded at her, as well.<br/>The more pressing issue was that two of the newcomers were currently missing. Already.<br/><br/>His eyes inadvertently stopping for a second on the strangely attractive lady in the front passenger seat, Pjotr leaned the other way, out of the car, to see if someone was standing outside. Nobody was, yet before he pulled his head back in, another woman came running in heavy armor. That she was indeed female probably wouldn't have been as apparent if she would have had something cover her legs. Light, irregular shadows on them and the ragged gloss of severe burns on her arms held testimony to a probably battle-rich past. Her grip of the weapon showed that she, too, was at least educated in the usage of a gun. Her question was audible, if barely, over the running engine.<br/><br/>"Aaaand whose attention you want to get with this?"<br/><br/>Crookedly frowning and breathing in deeply, he looked at the woman sitting next to him. Pjotr opened his mouth, as if to address her, but instead, leaned out of the door again. Rather calmly, he said:<br/>"<em>Rr</em>ight Back Atchoo. Get in."<br/><br/>Without awaiting a possible comeback, Pjotr slammed the door shut and reached over his head for the radio.<br/>"Age Cue, Zis is<em>Rr</em>oad<em>r</em>age[r] vone, Ve a<em>r</em>e off to mission vone at Pot's Point, ove<em>r</em>."<br/>The answer came a few seconds of faint static later, voiced by a deep, throaty bass:<br/>"Roadrage one, we acknowledge your action. Good hunt, over."<br/>Pjotr made sure everyone was aboard and the hatch at the back was closed. One down, four left, all heavily armed and not completely inexperienced - His missions have had worse premises in the past. He held the radio to his lips.<br/>"<em>Rr</em>ok en<em>r</em>ol!"<br/><br/>Pjotr ramped up the engine and drove the car off head quarter's grounds.