Brandon, Silas, (Regan?) and eventually Rae.
If Brandon was calm then Silas was tense. He wasn’t naturally the kind of man that gravitated towards orchestrated combat decisions, he was a brawler. Used to go into every fight with the only goal being to be the last person upright; he figured he could still do that with the Bedford idiots. With the added strength, there wasn’t much that would pose a challenge.
Except gunfire. Shit.
He gave Brandon a quick nod of confirmation at the game plan, and bit hard on his tongue to keep from saying something about keeping Rae out of the heart of the fighting. Brandon had a point, she couldn’t get hurt, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of her being caught in the fight.
“We leaving them to West and the rest of the guns on the roof?” he asked, ducking a shot, and showing the barest amount of restraint by not returning fire, even though he really just wanted to pick the fuckers off. He wasn’t the best shot in the group, so he didn’t want to waste a bullet. “Or, we could just fight our way in and handle it ourselves. Leave the firearms outside on the roof,” he offered up, because apparently he couldn’t not offer a option that kept Rae from getting up close and personal with their opponents.
There was more he would have said, but there was more movement at the entrance to the building that the shots were coming from. “Looks like they’re bringing the party down to us,” he commented instead, grappling for the blade he’d strapped to his leg. “Probably think we’ll be easier to pick off with gunshot if we’re preoccupied.” He was thinking out loud for the most part, there was no way to really understand what kind of approach the other group had decided to take.