Mokuteki's days followed a simple pattern. Wake up, breakfast, tinker, lunch, train, dinner, tinker, bed. Every day for the past 13 weeks and 6 days. And today, that pattern had been blown into oblivion, along with hundreds of innocents. The strange voice crackling over their supposedly secure communication channel was a cause for worry, sure, Moku didn't place any fears of Ko's danger on this stranger. He was too friendly about her. Thanking her. His language hadn't indicated him to be a threat, and of course, once they were out, Mokuteki could easily catch up to them using Hitokage.
Thwack! Three kunai hit a young warrior in the chest simultaneously. One struck the sternum, possibly cracking it. The second drove deep over the collar bone, pulled down from the sky by Moku's careful manipulations. The third nearly disemboweled him, striking the abdomen at an angle that would have torn the intestines free had they not been contained by a few bandages and a leather vest of armor.
Sweat rolled off the young puppeteer's forehead in droves. He'd killed at least ten at his last count, but there hadn't been any time to calculate his accuracy and death ratios since about ten minutes prior. The new voice came over the radio again. so they were free! Moku was moving instantly, Kagemusha tackling an incoming attacker and driving two wrist blades between the ribs, shredding the lungs and possibly knicking the heart, judging from the amount of blood that shot out when the weapons were hastily removed from the soon to be carcass. Another was cooked clean by the flame thrower in the mouth, and a third took two senbon from Moku's weapons pouch. He was empty, aside from one kunai and whatever was left in Hitokage's mouth traps.
Even as he finished his quick inventory, Mokuteki spotted something that caused an even greater worry than the three guards who were currently hot on his trail. With one hand, Kagemusha turned and went to work. Razor wire flying out to entangle and draw in, wristblades coming out to cut and sever. Meanwhile, his free hand stretched down, grabbing the cook's throat. Pulse, good. Reaching down, Moku grabbed a fistful of shirt, deeming it a better handle than her jugular, and roughly shouldered her. Much heavier than she looked, this one. Kagemusha had finished up the three, and the two people and a puppet sped out of the gate. The first arrow bit sand six inches to his right and four inches behind. Had his attacker's angle of fire been only one degree dfferent, his leg would have been struck and Rei would be dead in minutes. But it hadn't. Coming over the dune, Moku thought his heart had nearly given out carrying the girl. He was no Taijutsu power house, preferring instead to play with dolls and puppets rather than train in the brutish physical arts, and his body revealed that fact. Sucking air down his throat in the deepest chugs and huffs he could muster, his eyes crested the top-!
Ko, the cook, and... ten others?? That was all? THe compound was that large, and only ten had made it out?! Shoving the dismay, as well as the desire to vomit, to the back of his mind, Moku withdrew Hitokage and returned Kagemusha in a pair of well practiced one-handed motions with the scroll. As that massive mouth yawned open, any number of compact spheres of explosives launched out, peppering the enemy compound in explosions. Activation seals released the explosions contained within the tags left on dead foes within the compound. All in all, hopefully enough mass destruction to cause these pigs to think twice about attacking Suna territory. Keeping his eyes peeled on the sprawling expanse below him, simultaneously scanning for survivors and looking for a vent for his anger, such as an enemy combatant, Moku heaved the words out of his mouth like spew, in a rushed, loud tone. Stealth was not an option now. "Get the injured and the kids on the puppet's back. Secure them as best you. THe rest of you, get up and run. RUN!!!" Finishing his not-so-motivational speech, Moku wheeled on his heel, flicking his wrist and sending one last volley out into the no man's land between the dune they'd used for cover and the gates of the compound. The few men who'd managed to muster a force to go seize their prisoners and attackers had been turned into chunky salsa.