Emerson entered the abode with a growl.
Lexa's eyes jolted upwards, and in one movement, she threw the arrow in her hand like a dart. It caught Emerson in the shoulder, but didn't seem to faze him. Only a snarl and a growl as he pulled the arrow out.
It bled, but not quick enough.
''You,'' he snarled, and Lexa grasped at the wheels of her chair. He took a sluggish step forward, and Lexa moved back with one hand, the other under the compartment of the armrest, where her dagger was tucked under.
She needed to end it, and quickly. She was still unused to manoeuvring the newly-fixed chair, as it was none near as smooth as it used to be before, and it consisted of parts that were substituted and not necessarily the best.
And she couldn't let him come close. Not with the rage in his face, not with the clumsiness of his stance, not with the unpredictability that blazed his eyes.
''Looks like we've come full circle, huh?'' He rasped, and he lumbered another step forward. ''Since you killed all my kind.'' Another step; Lexa kept her gaze fixated on him. ''Since that laboratory in the desert. Never wanted to see you again, but—'' a cough, a rueful grin, as his fingers twirled the bloodstained arrow between his fingers, ''—guess it's for the best.''
Lexa gripped at the hidden blade tucked under the armrest. ''That makes two of us.''
''That's if you can touch me,'' Emerson drawled, a lazy smile toying his features. ''But you can't. I have an arrow you so kindly gave me. You don't have a weapon in sight.''
Keep talking.
''You have nothing. I have everything. Even if it's one simple point,'' and he grinned, traced a finger over the tip, and from it black blood spilt. ''Don't you know best? All those needles and tests, not even a millimetre long and yet you could do so much with it...'' he toyed with the arrow, the grin still on his face, and it must've been oh so symbolic for him, that he could possibly torture her like she did to him, with a point so thin you wouldn't even realise it was even there until the pain struck in. ''It's a pity your skills'll be wasted. I'd have to admit, you were good with a point.''
He kept drawling, oblivious to the fact that it was exactly what she wanted. He spread his arms, and though he smiled lazily, his intentions behind it shone through his wicked lips. ''The roles are reversed now. Now you're the one that's at my mercy.'' he spat, and his smirk morphed into a snarl. ''And, like you— I don't have any.''
Lexa felt cold grip her heart, and she gripped the blade under her armrest. Blood trickled two ways from his skin, and yet none were quick enough. Not nearly half a litre was lost yet, and that itself would not be lethal enough to kill.
Closer. Come closer.
His feet stumbled towards her, and she felt the victorious grin on his face. His shadow loomed, she gripped the blade, he took another step closer—
But he wasn't close enough.
His hot breath emanated a few inches away from her skin, and she felt anger flow through her. ''I'm not stupid,'' he began, a smile loosely formed on his face, as he took a few small steps backwards, his arms wide. ''I know what you're doin'. And trust me, it ain't gonna work—''
She slammed into him, wheels and knives and a furious cry, twisting the blade into the flesh and bone she'd caught. There was a sickening squelch, and the blade felt around the mass of guts and organs that was within his skin. And her fingers pulled away, and she let it stick there, as he stumbled a few steps back, dropped the arrow and his hands hovered over the blade like it emitted radiation.
