Fight Scene

Escaping

"I'm not letting you run off!" She shouted as she leapt to her feet. They could work out a deal with whoever came to help- make Egill stay and explain how he could be useful to anti-raid organizations. Maybe he could even get a minimized punishment for his assistance, if the good came anywhere close to balancing the bad. Under her watch, as well as people more powerful than her, there would be no way he could cause this kind of tragedy again. It had to work! There was no way they would be dumb enough to give up an opportunity like this!
Demille felt the pain in her hand before she saw the man's movement. With a quick movement the building's scorchingly hot wall rippled and melted like water before shooting out and reforming as a metal spike, commanded forward haphazardly by the wave of Egill's hand. It shredded through the skin of her outstretched palm with a sickening sound, flesh and bone being pierced and pushed aside. An anguished cry tore from her throat as she fell to her knees, ears ringing from the searing pain. Her heart beat frantically against her chest and her breath came out in forced heaves. Egill spared her a small glance before turning on his heel, leaving her in the dirt. She didn't bother to watch him go as his hurried footsteps quickly faded, focusing instead on keeping her head straight. No longer worrying about keeping the man there until help arrived she let her mask drop, a pained grimace forming on her face as she activated her ability, hardening the blood around her open wound to stop the hot metal from fusing to her skin. Most of the area had already closed, and the smell of burnt flesh was disorienting.
Ignoring the warnings she constantly got from McRoss, Demille sucked in a deep breath and jerked her body to the right, separating her hand from the metal spike with a painful tear. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over and wash streaks of dirt from her face. She breathed through gritted teeth, the impact sending another jolt of pain through her. In a quick moment she made the blood around the open wound stiff, leaving a jagged hole through her right hand about the size of the bottom of a party cup. Keep any dirt from getting into the wound she thought, going through her old instructor's advice in her mind as she got to her feet. Her knees were weak underneath her weight, and she wondered for a moment if she would be able to walk.
"Hello?" A feminine voice called from nearby, barely audible over the sounds of her heartbeat and the persistent ringing in her ears. She shuffled on her feet toward what she thought was the source of the sound, turning the building's bent corner into the open street. The wind was no longer howling, Demille faintly noticed, and she figured the voice must belong to the air-type. She decided to try and get her attention.
"I'm here!" She shouted, her own voice strained. Footsteps approached from her right and she turned her head just as a figure emerged from the fog created by the winds moments ago. A stout woman with thick clothes covering her arms and legs jogged toward her, tightly braided black hair bouncing on her shoulders. Heavy boots pound against the ground as she spots Demille, rushing to get to her. With a sweeping motion she locked their arms together, helping the injured woman walk. Her other arm reaches to her chest, clicking on a small radio clipped onto her jacket.
"There's one survivor in the East edge, abandoned factory area four-b. Report." She took her hand off the radio's button and waited, looking over Demille with her eyes as they walked back toward the center of the city. "Are you alone?" She asked, slight boredom from the question she must repeat all the time seeping through. Demille shook her head.
"I came with my fiance and their mother." She coughed, feeling pressure at the back of her throat, and the action nearly sent them both to the ground. "They're not over here though, I ran over thinking there was somebody here. I was mistaken." She adds, a result of the curious look from the rescue lady. She figured it would be best to keep Egill a secret for now, even if it was selfish. The ringing began to fade as the radio's static picked up, a frazzled voice coming from the other end.
"Three survivors in the West edge, section two-a." Then, solemnly. "Four casualties, two badly injured. Backup is on the way." The woman sighed and clicked off the radio.