Thread: The Lady and the Wolf - Penitency x Praxis

Rachel had only been able to press herself more insistently against the wall at her back, sliding inch by inch around a corner and toward the patio when she heard another, additional noise. The landing pad. Ethan! She felt a tiny glimmer of hope in her stomach but this too was brushed aside by the shoving open of her front door. The next few moments were a thunderous, blinding cascade of booming noises and the skittering of plaster and wood chips being shredded from their places along the floor and walls. She had never fully appreciate how loud a gun was when fired in a fairly confined space. And though her loft was spacious, the high ceilings and narrow hallways only worked to amplify that chaos that had erupted. She remembered screaming, of that she seemed to have no problem. A high, piercing wail that struggled to match the room's cacophonous pitch. She saw shapes through the several muzzle flashes on the far end of the room, their shadows elongated grotesquely across the room's beige walls and hard, dark wood flooring. There was shouting, though she would have been unable to discern it's intention, only using it as a guide post of where not to be. She felt her body moving, though any motor function by then was purely instinct. The sheer will to live forcing through terrified atrophy to try and move the girl to safety. A large shape, one that could only be Ethan rose and fired a single, deafening blast opposite the gunfire and within a moment he was between her and the intruders. What the fuck is going!? She wouldn't have remembered asking this either. She'd simply barked at him, hands grasping through the darkness to clutch at the sleeve of his coat. He didn't answer, only brushing her small hands away and firing another shot, the hollow sound of a shell clattering to the floor near her. And again, before she could take a breath, he moved, scooping her up in his arms as he did this time and slinging her over his shoulder. She felt weightless, tiny, as he moved swiftly -much more swiftly than she would have imagined possible from such a hulking figure. He set her down and there was a brief respite in the fire as the intruder's peered about the room. Without giving it much thought they resumed. Shooting in wide sprays, shattering several wall-mounted photos and heavy, antique furniture as they blindly tried to simultaneously find and finish off their targets. W-what? She asked, staring wide-eyed at him through the darkness. He was speaking to her again, repeating himself and gesturing quickly at what seemed like his foot. Finally, through a groan he un-holstered his pistol and thrust it at Rachel. With trembling hands she accepted it without realizing what it was. It clicked after a moment and another round of fire from the intruder's. And do what with it!? Her voice incredulous at the suggestion. She held the heavy, dark piece of metal with stiff fingers, as if it were something that would leave behind a residue. Ethan didn't answer, again moving almost too quickly for her to see, arranging himself on the far end of her and firing. She heard a scream of agony from one of the intruder's before a second shot tore through the open space and into Ethan's shoulder. Through the muzzle flash she saw a spray of blood spatter against the wall behind him. Finding the pistol's grip she felt the weapon slide into her hand. Not quite naturally, but enough for her to finger at the trigger. She could hear approaching footsteps. She could hear labored breathing. Where are you, bitch? A voice muttered, it's step dragging through what must've been chunks of fragmented plaster. Away from her though. Toward where she thought she'd seen Ethan disappear. You can't hide forever. Further then, and facing away from her. Pressing her back against the wall she rose in place, the plushy fabric of her robe gliding effortlessly against cool plaster, making not a sound. The pistol's wooden grip was pressing against the throbbing gash in her palm, but she didn't care. Through the enveloping layers of darkness she could just make out a shape. A smudged dark spot on a canvas of obsidian, but there nonetheless. She pointed and found center mass, held her breath, and fired. She'd told herself she would fire three times. She'd seen it done enough in movies and television to know how it worked The gun would fire, creating an explosion as it did. She'd have to fight the recoil of pressurized gas escaping the weapon's narrow barrel. Aim too high and she'd miss. Center-mass, as she'd been taught, was her safest bet. And though there were large portions of her textbook training she'd likely never known versus forgotten, she was certain no one had ever mentioned how difficult the trigger was to pull. What had been an intended three shots had been cut down to one. The brief seconds of hesitation as she struggled to activate the hammer on the pistol giving the lone intruder time to begin a turn. The single shot tore out of the pistol's barrel and lodged itself into a small, silver disk embedded on the intruder's upper forearm. A battery-pack of sorts, keeping the larger and more demanding of his augmentations running. They were, as the three of them would see, quite susceptible to piercing and twice as likely to incinerate if provoked. A spurt of blue and white flame shot from it's shoulder, illuminating the room in a dazzling, white light. The figure whirled around, sparks turning to flame and flames licking at the crude circuitry of the Intruder's chest and back. He bellowed, attempting to pat out the damage but only managing to exacerbate it in his panic. His shrieks grew with the blue flames until both seemed to fizzle out and the man crumpled to the floor, smouldering in a heap. Dark silence filled the loft, save for Ethan and Rachel's heavy breathing on opposite ends of the now upturned sofa. He called to her though she failed to hear him. She dropped his pistol to the floor with a heavy clatter and stepped timidly on wobbly legs toward the scene. What remained of the simmering blue flames was offering a shred in the way of light, just enough for Rachel to make out the heavily augmented figure and Ethan's dimly illuminatrd face as he sat slumped against the wall. The shot had done more damage to his shoulder than she could have figured and she saw rivulets of blackish blood trickling from the wound. She whimpered, again noticing the sting in her sliced palm and moved toward him. Kneeling she raised her well hand to the gash and hissed through her teeth at it. Are you ok? She asked. It seemed like a silly question given what had just occurred and she felt stupid immediately after having asked it.