(no subject)
This has been a very bad day for Claire Bennet.
It started off with her entertaining a conversation with a very odd gentleman, and half an hour later, ends with her in a closet, duct tape around her wrists and ankles and a madman with a scalpel to her throat.
"Listen, you creep," she growls, straining against the binds on her wrists, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but if you don't let me go, I'm g--"
The slice across her carotid artery was merely annoying at first, a little slit of flesh that merely itched, but the speed of the blood loss surprised her. She closes her eyes, dizzy and heart pounding, bleeding out almost as fast as her body generates fresh blood. The veins in her throat begin stitching themselves together, but before they heal completely she feels the hiss of the blade on her chin, sliding up past her ear, over her forehead, and back down to the first incision.
Claire winces, lips parting to spit an insult at the lunatic, but before she does feels a sharp yank and suddenly her eyes fill with light. Then there's a chuckle, a click, and the door shuts and locks in front of her.
... Okay. All right, she's met up with a psychopath, but she's all right. Taking a deep breath, Claire brings her arms up to her face, bites the duct tape, and rips it off with her teeth. Once her hands are freed, she reaches up to brush her hair out of her eyes and stops cold when her fingertips brush her face. That's not skin, it's exposed muscle and bone.
Oh, shit.
There's another psycho loose in the hotel. Claire's lucky enough to be able to heal the injuries he gave her almost instantaneously, but he's still left her bloody, bound, and extremely irate.
Pounding on the locked door, she spits blood out of her mouth and yells at the top of her lungs. "HEY! HEY, SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF HERE! THAT GUY TOOK MY FACE!"
It started off with her entertaining a conversation with a very odd gentleman, and half an hour later, ends with her in a closet, duct tape around her wrists and ankles and a madman with a scalpel to her throat.
"Listen, you creep," she growls, straining against the binds on her wrists, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but if you don't let me go, I'm g--"
The slice across her carotid artery was merely annoying at first, a little slit of flesh that merely itched, but the speed of the blood loss surprised her. She closes her eyes, dizzy and heart pounding, bleeding out almost as fast as her body generates fresh blood. The veins in her throat begin stitching themselves together, but before they heal completely she feels the hiss of the blade on her chin, sliding up past her ear, over her forehead, and back down to the first incision.
Claire winces, lips parting to spit an insult at the lunatic, but before she does feels a sharp yank and suddenly her eyes fill with light. Then there's a chuckle, a click, and the door shuts and locks in front of her.
... Okay. All right, she's met up with a psychopath, but she's all right. Taking a deep breath, Claire brings her arms up to her face, bites the duct tape, and rips it off with her teeth. Once her hands are freed, she reaches up to brush her hair out of her eyes and stops cold when her fingertips brush her face. That's not skin, it's exposed muscle and bone.
Oh, shit.
There's another psycho loose in the hotel. Claire's lucky enough to be able to heal the injuries he gave her almost instantaneously, but he's still left her bloody, bound, and extremely irate.
Pounding on the locked door, she spits blood out of her mouth and yells at the top of her lungs. "HEY! HEY, SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF HERE! THAT GUY TOOK MY FACE!"