Adelaide imagined herself as a machine as she lined up shot after shot, taking time in between only to fix on the face, ensure she wasn't taking aim at one of their own, before she squeezed the trigger and moved on. And then after a time she felt like Lucille Ball in that chocolate factory, as men scrambled under the fire to be the one who got away, and there were just too many to get every single one. Any one who escaped could, months from now, be the man who put a bullet in one of their own, and Adelaide felt that acutely. But she didn't slow down.
Until she noticed Ruth beside her, targeting guards, and for half an instant Adelaide cut her eyes sidewards, irritated. The escaping prisoners were meant to be their targets, were the more immediate threat to their boys - until she saw the way the guard's head was tilted, the way he was scanning the area before he fell, and realized just what was motivating Ruth as that man fell.
Sharply, Adelaide looked back down and scanned the faces of the other guards, and she picked out one with tufty ginger hair whose eyes were tracing back the path of a bullseye shot that Marina fired off. "God damn," Adelaide muttered, and lined him up, at the very same instant that the nosy guard started to point upwards.
"Up on the roo-" was as much as he managed to shout out, before the bullet shut up him. Most of La Quinta's guards were preoccupied with chasing down escaping prisoners, here and there they scuffled as they took unlucky men down, but the three nearest the ginger took note. Conferring quickly with shouts and gestures, it became clear quickly that they were coming to investigate, and Adelaide cursed as she took aim but her target moved at just the wrong moment.
"The boys downstairs will take care of them," she told the others, wasting no more time and scanning for another target. "Keep shooting."