Fortunately, silent communication is something that Maine excels at. He doesn't have to ask for clarification over their radios; Texas is willing to work with him, and she's inviting him to strike first. Maine inclines his head in a short nod of acceptance. That's fine by him.

The big Freelancer makes a big target. He knows this. He also knows that he's really fucking good at drawing enemy fire. So he estimates the trajectory of the last paintball, calculates the distance to the next barrier between him and the paintball's probable source, then takes off at a sprint.

The sudden bull rush does what it's intended to do: the enemy fires again, eager to take him down before the seven-foot-tall behemoth reaches them. Maine twists behind a column before he's hit. Hopes that Texas — with her seemingly preternatural aim — takes advantage of the enemy exposing their position.