(Untitled)

[starsmedic]

Becky may not have been too successful in making friends while she was in school, but now that graduation has come and gone, it seems the relationships she'd never have expected to take root are beginning to.

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[starsmedic]

It takes Becky until she reaches the end of the banister, hand burning and vaguely confused about this turn of events to realize that he's gone - he's running. Now that she has her gun back, he's taken to flight instead of fight, and she can't blame him, though it is noted she'll have to aim above the bulletproof vest next time.

She disentangles herself from the awkward position of bent knees and hanging just so above the steps that it prevents stepping down easily, and uses the lull to reload with shaking, burning fingers. It's an old habit - do it when you have the silence, or you might not get the chance when you really need that extra cap in the fresh magazine. She has two extra clips of ammunition stowed in her under-jacket holster; the half-spent cartridge of six is ejected, shoved into her jacket pocket, and a new one is locked into place. As soon as she racks the slide to put another bullet in the hole, there's a wet, gurgling, horrible sound interspersed with screams from the levels below

[starsmedic]

Becky shows that impressive juking streak. She manages to jerk back, just out of the way of the sweep, but there's a metallic ting, like he's cut off a piece of jewelry or hit a button.

Then the finish on his knife starts to bubble. The two ends of the test tube fall to the carpet, cleaved in perfect halves.

[all_scarry_eyed]

Priority change. Krauser slices his thumb open with the knife, smearing a thick of orange blood over the damaged spot to dilute it.

Some things he cannot afford to lose.

That done, he just grabs for her neck. Choking her's a start, but he's actually planning on, given a moment's opportunity, tightening his grip and just breaking it.

[starsmedic]

Becky doesn't get out of this one. With a strangled cough from behind her mask, she is once again hoisted into the air; she reaches up with her left, uninjured hand and grabs his wrist a second time.

The good thing is it blocks her right arm from view as she reaches under her jacket, into her holster.

Another good thing; the test tubes are only made of glass. That means they shatter when you jam them into someone's eyesocket.

[all_scarry_eyed]

There is no sound at the pain. None.

He's pretty good at staying oriented; he doesn't remember what was, exactly, where further than lunging range, however, and so when he throws her it's careless, hard, and, most importantly, blindly. He'd like to break her spine on a workbench, but he can't be sure he threw her correctly for that.

He also can't be sure what else she has or what she can do while he's blinded; he covers his face, rolling back through the door, slamming his back against the wall and ordering the plaga to feel for vibrations.

Given the overload of information coming in through his face right now, most of which is going FUCK! ACID! BROKEN GLASS! that's not too successful.

[starsmedic]

Becky is helpless in his grip, hurt as he is, and flies through the air much like a little ragdoll. Unlike a ragdoll, she manages to crack one side of the green stone chalkboard when she hits it back-on; she's present enough of mind to curl into a fetal position amidst a rain of dark green shards, and then is on her feet again when she looks up to see him staggering from the room.

She takes a moment, heedless of the little dark green needles now peppering the soles of her feet, to break open the glass cabinet with her elbow and retrieve that fire axe, though, just in case.

Becky runs from the room, and edges past Krauser in one of those tried-and-true evasive jerks, then makes one hell of a sprint for the nearest fire exit.

[all_scarry_eyed]

He lashes out when he feels someone passing by, but really, vibrations and pain; it's pretty hard to hit.

He moves for a little bit of a safer spot; he'll just get these major shards out, and then. . . well, either recover the situation, or let it go.

There's always another day.

Especially given some of the performances here.

[starsmedic]

For her part, Becky lights out of there in a serious hurry. The topical layer of skin on her injured hand is starting to sizzle, and she can feel slivers of glass working their way in - the mask and goggles, which she now strips off and throws by the wayside, had protected her face from the hydrochloric acid in that test tube, but not her exposed skin elsewhere.

She's holding the axe in front of her with both hands, handle held horizontally, close to her torso. Her feet slapping against the polished floor is the only sound for a long way around.

Finally, when it looks like she's clear, she shoulders open the fire exit, panting and fatigued, and is met with flashing blue-and-red lights, strident white beams from flashlights, and about seven aimed pistols. She, very slowly, drops the axe with an empty klonggg and raises her hands.

"...I'm a cop," she offers, feebly.