[Get armed, assess the situation, fight or flee. Those are the only imperatives that have any meaning to Suzuha while in the thick of a situation like this. There’s no time to reconcile with the violence of it all, or how infuriating it might be for those kids to come around to attack them again with even more numbers. The main thing is to get out of there alive.
Mark’s insistence on staying to fight is making that harder than it needs to be. For a moment, she almost wants to believe him—believe that whatever alien DNA he’s got going on that lets him fend off the sickness for longer, and fly through the air, and completely reduce someone’s head to a bloody pulp might let him really pull this off.
But the thing is? He’s still sick. He can’t stay airborne forever. He can get beat as bad as whatever he dishes out if the enemy gets their hands on him.]
No! There’s too many to—
[Her protest is cut off in a clipped but frustrated groan when one of the enemies gets the drop on him. Instincts tell her to run in; the rational part of her brain tells her she’s not getting there in time with her leg still on the mend. The attacker’s now rearing back to try to deliver a kick to the stunned Mark, and Suzuha retaliates by whipping that kitchen knife through the air with a tightly controlled throw. It sinks into their shoulder and draws out a pained cry.
Suzuha hurries to pull the gun from its holster on her thigh, raising it to aim at the enemy as she limps a few steps closer.]
no subject
Mark’s insistence on staying to fight is making that harder than it needs to be. For a moment, she almost wants to believe him—believe that whatever alien DNA he’s got going on that lets him fend off the sickness for longer, and fly through the air, and completely reduce someone’s head to a bloody pulp might let him really pull this off.
But the thing is? He’s still sick. He can’t stay airborne forever. He can get beat as bad as whatever he dishes out if the enemy gets their hands on him.]
No! There’s too many to—
[Her protest is cut off in a clipped but frustrated groan when one of the enemies gets the drop on him. Instincts tell her to run in; the rational part of her brain tells her she’s not getting there in time with her leg still on the mend. The attacker’s now rearing back to try to deliver a kick to the stunned Mark, and Suzuha retaliates by whipping that kitchen knife through the air with a tightly controlled throw. It sinks into their shoulder and draws out a pained cry.
Suzuha hurries to pull the gun from its holster on her thigh, raising it to aim at the enemy as she limps a few steps closer.]
Back off! Now!