[Her small hands, weak feelings and shaky grabbed his shirt front, holding on a moment, tightly in anger. She's not in the best of shape to be doing this, but he can't stop her with out a struggle.]
Then a Name I will have. An Identity that you promised me.
[SHe shoved past him, single gun in hand she started past. He might ant to come with her because she's not exactly stable, but she moves on, on her own, past a glass window and sees her reflection. She's jarred at first. Startled.]
[Be Strong, he said in her head]
[Her cut up half scrunched up, and her eye narrowed. A yell followed t hat she couldn't hear anymore. A woman's screech. Just then a doctor in white showed up on the other side of the glass. She leveled the gun and fired instantly, through the glass and hitting the man, head on.]
[It brought others to attention. She fought, unloaded the gun, grabbed someone elses, shot more. In the end there was no one else coming forward. The doctor who did the operation lay at her feet, still alive, gasping for breath. She took the time to use his blood to write.]
[On the wall it said Madame Masque, dripping in red. The man at her feet struggled to try to crawl away. She left him for Taskmaster to finish off. Left him alive enough to know what he did was wrong.]
[She turned to lean on the wall, her head near the E at the end of her new name. She panted, the drugs still in her system effecting her, the pain of her face and head bothering her. She could hear someone groaning in the distance. Not everyone died. They'd learn at least.]
[She swung her hands out, as if to present her name to the other, panted, and leaned forward, refusing to cry, but wanting to. She hurt. But she would not be weak.]
no subject
Then a Name I will have. An Identity that you promised me.
[SHe shoved past him, single gun in hand she started past. He might ant to come with her because she's not exactly stable, but she moves on, on her own, past a glass window and sees her reflection. She's jarred at first. Startled.]
[Be Strong, he said in her head]
[Her cut up half scrunched up, and her eye narrowed. A yell followed t hat she couldn't hear anymore. A woman's screech. Just then a doctor in white showed up on the other side of the glass. She leveled the gun and fired instantly, through the glass and hitting the man, head on.]
[It brought others to attention. She fought, unloaded the gun, grabbed someone elses, shot more. In the end there was no one else coming forward. The doctor who did the operation lay at her feet, still alive, gasping for breath. She took the time to use his blood to write.]
[On the wall it said Madame Masque, dripping in red. The man at her feet struggled to try to crawl away. She left him for Taskmaster to finish off. Left him alive enough to know what he did was wrong.]
[She turned to lean on the wall, her head near the E at the end of her new name. She panted, the drugs still in her system effecting her, the pain of her face and head bothering her. She could hear someone groaning in the distance. Not everyone died. They'd learn at least.]
[She swung her hands out, as if to present her name to the other, panted, and leaned forward, refusing to cry, but wanting to. She hurt. But she would not be weak.]