[ He speaks reason to a wall. Her blood starts roaring the moment he has her on her back. She's past the point of being able to collect herself, to think, to wait like he's insisting. She's in that basement after escaping from her cage; she's back in Shining Light's compounds, massacring children to stay alive. She's barely in the moment and his words go in one ear and out the other.
She's back on her feet the moment his claws retract, flipping up with impressive speed and control. She sees them through a haze of bloodlust.
The good thing about a barber shop? It's no garden shop, but it has plenty of handheld items of destruction just lying about. She's turned less likely things into weapons of death. When she grabs a pair of scissors off of a haircutting station and flips them so the sharp corners are pointed in the right direction, it's with a keen, brutal sense of purpose. She's losing grip on why she came here in the first place — to investigate a murder. All she sees is a dangerous man who won't go down. All she hears is a stream of cajoling Tagalog, the cruel commands that turned her into a weapon, and Butcher's throaty, exaggerated accent voice above it all. Kill him. Kill them. Kill anyone with superpowers.
With the scissors in hand, she lashes out toward any point of egress he gives her. He's not a small man. She has plenty of room to aim, plenty of flesh to strike. ]
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She's back on her feet the moment his claws retract, flipping up with impressive speed and control. She sees them through a haze of bloodlust.
The good thing about a barber shop? It's no garden shop, but it has plenty of handheld items of destruction just lying about. She's turned less likely things into weapons of death. When she grabs a pair of scissors off of a haircutting station and flips them so the sharp corners are pointed in the right direction, it's with a keen, brutal sense of purpose. She's losing grip on why she came here in the first place — to investigate a murder. All she sees is a dangerous man who won't go down. All she hears is a stream of cajoling Tagalog, the cruel commands that turned her into a weapon, and Butcher's throaty, exaggerated accent voice above it all. Kill him. Kill them. Kill anyone with superpowers.
With the scissors in hand, she lashes out toward any point of egress he gives her. He's not a small man. She has plenty of room to aim, plenty of flesh to strike. ]