MAYBE NOTABLE || [j. todd]

i. Excessive Blood

.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.

EARTH-847 GOTHAM CITY 2012... 9:38 PM

"We can talk this out," Zamira fumbled for the right words to say, gagging on the dryness of her throat. Her fingers gingerly touched her split lip and her tongue swiped over the crimson mess, tasting the metallic blood with distaste.

A couple more bullets lodged themselves in the wall next to her, which provided her the perfect answer she needed. Son of a bitch. Clearly, they were hostile. And therefore, they must die.

Her mind was still reeling from her supposed death-- the feeling of Tony's hands on her shoulders trying to desperately shake her awake. All she had now was her instincts.

Mira hastily pressed her hand against her wound, grunting as she teleported. Darkness enveloped her like a cold embrace as she stumbled off balance and hit a wall. She was in some sort of abandoned building, judging from the state of the wallpaper. "What a warm welcoming," she muttered to herself as her eyes darted around, searching for a weapon.

What alarmed her the most was the fact that her beloved sword was gone. Fuck. She cursed again, scrambling to her feet and stifling a cry of pain as the torn fabric of her shirt brushed her injury. She settled on sharp rock that should at least take care of one weaponed enemy.

Across the dilapidated hall, she could faintly here the clicking of assault rifles in the hands of the bagged maskers. Mira gritted her teeth, formulating a quick plan in her head.

No, she couldn't rely on the dark as she did not know whether or not her opponents had night vision glasses installed within their masks. No, she couldn't rely on her silence as shattered glass was painted over the crumbling floors. Guess she had to do it the fastest way possible.

Her ears strained to listen to the crunch of glass of the approaching men, every muscle on her body tense, ignoring the sting of her bleeding wound. Her fingers wrapped around the jagged rock digging into the flesh of her palm.

Mira moved, fast and deadly, teleporting to the closest source of sound she heard. Jabbing the sharp end of the rock into her opponent's throat and instigating a short muffled cry before twisting his neck. As he fell, she grabbed the pistol strapped on his belt before hooking her hand on the back of his bullet proof vest, using him as a meat shield against his allies who opened fire.

Blinding flashes lit up the dark of the night, resounding crackles of bullets digging into her skull. Nothing new. With a shout, Mira shoved the corpse onto the nearest opponent, shooting the other in the neck. She dug her foot into another's ribcage before jabbing another head with the grip of her pistol. She winced as the scorching blood splattered across her face.

The room fell silent and returned to its darkened state as she knelt down, pistol strapped on her belt and one hand against the wound while the other was in her own mouth, muffling her cries of pain. She felt woozy from the blood loss, hot red dots painting her vision. Glimpse of the double-edged sword of the mad titan attracted her notice. She should be dead. But she wasn't.