Neither of the oblivious sentries notices your hunting party until it's far too late. Qui reaches them first, hooked fingers ripping through the Anarch's neck and chest, eliciting an unearthly scream. You arrive moments later and square off with the second vampire, taken aback when his fingernails extend to inhuman proportions, forming a deadly set of razor-sharp claws. You calm your mind, trying to focus on your old combat training. You'll need to re-sharpen your instincts if you're going to survive.
"You shouldn't have come here, Cammy," he growls, launching himself at you like a beast, claws spread, hungry for your blood.
Your bestial opponent hesitates for a fraction of a second as you meet his charge, and that's more than enough time for you to slam an elbow to his jaw, dropping him to his knees with a feral scream and shattering of bone. Wasting no time, you draw your handgun, firing several shots in rapid succession. It's almost impossible to miss from this close, and your opponent drops, twitching. You jump back as his body falls to the floor, eyes already scanning the factory's entryway for enemies. Your mercenary allies and the other Kindred have already surged past while you and Qui took care of the sentries, and the sound of gunfire booms off the crumbling red bricks.
Rough hands jerk you away from the body and toward the outer wall. You take aim, ready to fire before you recognize Qui's voice. "I don't know how," he grunts, "but they knew we were coming. There are at least four of them down there with automatic rifles. I almost walked into the kill-zone myself while you were finishing that rabid dog."
"Are they all…"
"No," he shakes his head. "Looks like most of us are pinned down in a stairwell. Sal is down, but he'll probably make it; he crawled into one of the side offices. Our mercs are in rougher shape—humans are so damned fragile."
You stiffen, the reality of your situation finally crashing down on you, and suddenly all you can smell is gunpowder and copper. Years of privileged un-life as one of the Camarilla elite have atrophied your primal instincts, and while you're a force to be reckoned with in a one-on-one fight, you haven't the first idea how to contend with an ambush of this magnitude. "I'm not properly trained for this," you stutter.
"No one is," Qui grunts. "An ambush can put even the most seasoned warrior off-guard. But we've got a job to do and I intend to see it through. They probably have our escape cut off anyway; that's what I would do." He cracks his knuckles angrily. "The way out is through."
You nod, steeling yourself for what needs to be done.
"There are two of them on the catwalk above and two at ground level. One of us needs to climb up there and deal with them quickly while the other draws fire by going after the shooters on the ground." You gaze up at the rickety scaffolding leading to the rusty metal of the catwalk. Climbing up from this position would be difficult, but doing so quietly enough to sneak up on the snipers would be quite a trick indeed.