[If her ears weren't ringing before, they are now.]
[The room is a blur of sensory information: bed, blood, decay, smashed furniture, cordite, hostile, shotgun-]
[The shotgun registers before the rest of it. Lindianne jukes left like a prizefighter ducking a haymaker and closes the distance. Her vest won't be worth a hill of beans at this range; one lucky shot and the only thing left of her ribcage will be roadkill. Her enemy isn't going to get the chance to put that theory to the test. She front-kicks the table into him to act as a distraction. It's all she needs.]
[The MP5 goes slack on its strap as she spear-tackles him to the floor. She doesn't wait before punching at his throat. Rage is one hell of a motivator. And right now?]
no subject
[The room is a blur of sensory information: bed, blood, decay, smashed furniture, cordite, hostile, shotgun-]
[The shotgun registers before the rest of it. Lindianne jukes left like a prizefighter ducking a haymaker and closes the distance. Her vest won't be worth a hill of beans at this range; one lucky shot and the only thing left of her ribcage will be roadkill. Her enemy isn't going to get the chance to put that theory to the test. She front-kicks the table into him to act as a distraction. It's all she needs.]
[The MP5 goes slack on its strap as she spear-tackles him to the floor. She doesn't wait before punching at his throat. Rage is one hell of a motivator. And right now?]
[Right now the only thing she feels is rage.]