When the cats out to play.
Even as three 44. rounds tore threw her slender frame, Naamah pivoted like a ballerina, bringing the katana directly down on the bodyguard's neck. The carefully honed blade sheared neatly through collarbone, flesh and vertebrae, as the head came rolling off freely, almost instantly. Her facial expression was distant as she shifted her gaze to the bodygaurd's panicking partner. "What do they teach you young ones these days?" Her voice was as perfect as the grace with which she shifted her grip. "Guns... Against goddesses!? No, no... F**k no. You must do things in the proper fashion." Her grip tightened. "Like so."
Naamah audibly drew a breath, and something seemed to gather around her. Something... palpable. Her gaze settled on one of the blackclad bodyguards, then the other, but lingered for no more than a second on each. Both men grew very pale, one tried weakly moving his hand toward his shoulder holster, but stopped instantly at the sound of her voice. "I said this conversation was private. Leave. Now." They file out in a fearfull panic.
Naamah neatly snapped her knuckles into the Masterminds neck... One... then plunged her fingers precisely into his eyesockets... two. One-two, quicker than a child could draw breath and harder than any mortal could strike. She smiled tautly as the formerly regal Metahuman who now clawed in a panic at his ruined eyes and crumpled windpipe. No sight, no voice... and no chance to invoke his otherworldly power over the mind, hypnotic majesty he called it. Now she could do the rest at her leisure, something she intended to take her time with.