damned_institute | Night 45: West Wing, South Hall 1-B

"Not trying to defend him; just saying. And hey! I thought you liked the coffee shop." In reality, the mimic didn't even know Gordon or care if Hanna liked the shop or not. He just needed her to trust him, to ge--

Yes.

Between him and the wall. The mimic didn't care if her grip was off, or if she wasn't hugging him. She was against the wall and that meant her movements were limited - and her escape routes were cut off. Suddenly putting his other arm out in front of her, he pressed his hand against the wall and cut off her forward movement. At the same time, his other hand gripped hers like a vice and in an instant, his entire demeanor changed. Blake disappeared and the mimic took over, the smile spreading across his face revealing sharp teeth and the humanity in his eyes draining away. The mimic didn't wait any longer and attacked, releasing an earsplitting scream as it went for Hanna's throat with its teeth.

"The coffee shop was cool the first time," Hanna dismissed, waving her free hand lightly. "Kinda lost its charm after the twentieth—"

A hand slammed into the wall in front of her. Fingers tightened so much that she suddenly could feel them, really feel them, and even though Hanna had plenty of strength in her own right, there were certain disadvantages to being five-three tops and built like a willow-wand to boot. It hurt! And even Blake should know better than to play games like this, especially with such lousy timing! "Blake, what the hell are you doing?! This is so not cute, and if you don't let me go, I swear I'll… kick…."

Her breath left her in a whoosh when she noticed the change, eyes raking it all in, taking split seconds. "…Blake?" What was wrong with him? Bad meds? Has he had to take something, and it's gone wrong? All thought cut off when he screamed, and all of a sudden Hanna realized that against the wall was a bad, bad place to be. Every instinct that she had screamed right back, but it was Yuffie's—those sharp, ingrained reflexes that she found so irresistible, just like back at lunch—that made her move. Move without thinking. Move with all the considerable speed she had, consciously, and just a little bit extra that by all rights shouldn't exist.

Hanna pivoted, Blake's lunge for her throat missing by just enough that she had time to snap one leg up, aiming for his gut. Her free hand whipped up to jab at his throat, a desperate attempt to make him stumble, to down him, to do anything so that she could escape. Unlike Yuffie, she'd never fought in tight-spaces before; sporting martial arts were all she knew, and though she was brilliant at them, the 'real' world played by different rules. There was only so far that barely-understood reflexes could take you, when anger, confusion, and fear were the dominant forces. "Get away from me!!"

Poor little Hannah. So confused and so--

OW.

The girl's leg snapped right up into his stomach and the mimic stumbled back, twisting at the last moment to avoid the jab to his throat. How was she still able to fight?! That wasn't how these things were supposed to work! Snarling, the creature left all traces of its supposed humanity behind for a moment as it recovered and launched itself at her, fingers grabbing at her arms, nails ready to dig into her skin as its mouth looked for anywhere to latch onto.

For a few golden seconds, it seemed like she'd be able to escape.

Hanna gasped her relief, a short, painful hitch in her throat, and took the opportunity to snatch the caught hand back. It worked, thank god, Blake's—this isn't Blake!!—grip having loosened after the kick. She twisted and ducked, sliding out from between the rock and the hard place, and she was almost there —

— and then he lunged. Hanna gave a strangled yelp as strong hands closed around her arms, as sharp nails dug in and held. Caught mid-movement, her position was awkward; some of her balance was gone, and she stumbled. Maybe she would've fallen, even, but held as she was, there was no chance of that. He was too strong. "Y-You crazy sonnova—! Let go!" Panic made her voice climb.

Crazy? Crazy was believing the lies this place set forth. Crazy was going out every night, trying to escape when they knew they couldn't. Crazy was many things, but the mimic wasn't one of them. The mimic was merely hungry, an animal that knew only how to trap and kill its prey.

And right now, it had a firm grip on her arm. She stumbled, but the mimic pulled her back, slashing with its nails at her face, trying to grab hold of her hair. If it could just wrench her neck back to expose her throat, it would be all over. The razor sharp teeth would dig into her flesh and rip her jugular out, spraying her blood across the hall - and the mimic would feed on her as the life left her. Only a few moments of pain and then eternal peace.

Don't want to die don't want to die don't want to die.

It was a funny little mantra to go to with her heart beating in her ears, pounding like a teen rocker's drum set. Hanna shook and struggled and swore, and when nails raked harshly across her left cheek, tearing and drawing blood, her cry was a mixture of anger and pain. Tears stung in her eyes. This couldn't — it can't happen! For the first time that day, she wished that she was still Yuffie. Yuffie would be strong enough, fast enough, and sly enough to escape. She'd kill the monster. She could've done this.

But wishing wasn't going to get her anywhere. Only action. Reaction. Escape.

As short and layered as it was, getting a grip on her hair wasn't going to be the easiest of tasks. Hanna squirmed like an eel in the thing's grip, striking out whenever she could, desperation and adrenalin fuelling every movement. Fight came before flight, when you were stuck like a… like prey. If the thing wearing her boyfriend's face struck now, it'd get her collar or her shoulder, and maybe — maybe she could headbutt it. Blake was bigger than her, stronger than her, and this thing was stronger than Blake. Brute strength wasn't going to work for her, here.

So close and yet not good enough! The mimic felt its nails scratch along her skin, tear through layers of thin flesh, enough to draw blood, but not enough to maim as it had wished. The girl was surprisingly agile still, even with her mind clouded and her body fighting against her fear. Blows rained against the mimic's body in scattered patterns, instinct telling her to scratch and kick and hit wherever possible to get the predator to let go.

Unfortunately, the mimic wasn't about to do that.

Its fingers scratched at her hair, missing and sinking into her shoulder instead, then going once more for the throat. Again a miss. Her squirming was getting more than a little annoying and the creature hissed, then shrieked like a banshee. If only she would just die already! Pulling roughly on her right arm, the mimic punched forward at her chest, trying to stun her and get her to stop moving so much.

The nails had scratched deep enough to send blood pouring in sticky rivulets down her cheek, staining the corner of her lips. Part of her, some distant part of her that seemed clear despite the storm noted, That's probably going to scar.

Nothing would ever scar again, if she didn't get out of this in one piece! No, not just one piece — she needed to get out of this alive, or… or…! Hanna shrieked in pain as those horrible nails pierced her again, digging in through the thin shirt. She cried out again when it screamed, like a wild animal, hurting her ears and her already spinning head. But she kept fighting. She couldn't stop, not even if she wanted to, but then the thing wearing Blake's body yanked her and she stumbled just a little too much, and when he punched her there was nothing she could do.

Hanna took the full weight and force of the blow, gasping in soundless, winded pain. For long, precious seconds, it was all she could do to try to recover.

Its fist connected solidly with her chest and the mimic felt triumph within its grasp. This girl was too scared to fight back against it, too wild in her movements to fight like she should have and it all worked out perfectly for "Blake."

As Hanna tried to recover, the mimic grabbed her with both hands by the throat, releasing her arm and shoulder. All it had to do was break her neck. Such an easy feat. Grinning, the mimic began to squeeze its fingers around Hanna's slender neck, trying to cut off her air and crack the delicate bones.

Hanna's struggles renewed with thoughtless, panicked vigour. Weaker than before, she squirmed and wriggled, hands coming up to pry at the tight, strangling fingers that just would not let go. She dug her nails in, she yanked, she scrabbled and scratched, all the while gasping futilely for oxygen beyond her reach.

Light as the girl was, it wasn't difficult for the monster to lift her. Death by strangulation was a horrid way to go; death by hanging was, too, and for a moment, all of the ways that she could die in the next few minutes flashed through her mind. Would he hold on and let her hang? Would he snap her neck, or drop her and kill her some other way?

Leviathan, is this really the end?

Closing her eyes, Hanna tried to use the wall at her back as leverage to kick out again. Weaker, more sluggish than before, but if she could just land one good blow, maybe—just maybe— it'd be enough.

[skipping from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/753097.html?thread=62576073#t62776521).]

At first, Kenshin wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing. There was Yuffie, certainly, being held up by--by her throat. "Yuffie-dono!" he shouted drawing his sword. He had no thoughts for his own safety. All he cared about was protecting his friend...and hurting the one hurting her.

The rurouni turned to his other companions. "Cloud, cover this one. Kaoru-dono, she'll need your help once she's safe. Look after her."

With that, he charged.

Cloud was already moving. Used to orders like 'cover me' actually translating to 'take point,' and not willing to wait an instant longer to get his friend out of the grip of something quite obviously not fully human, the blond moved to grab the not-boy thing in a choke hold. Two could play at that game, and if it had to worry about its own oxygen supply it might lose its grip on the girl.

"Dammit, Yuffie! You couldn't just stay in your room?" Of course not. That required common sense of a sort that his friend had always been lacking in, brainwashed or not. He would have been more grateful for any sign of the old Yuffie showing through if it didn't mean she got attacked before even leaving the patient blocks.

Kaoru was used to the split-second reactions of Kenshin, but the one from Cloud (and immediately so violent) was new. It didn't startle her as much as it could've, though, and she moved to intercept Yuffie as they attacked.

Hanna's kick collided with the mimic's stomach and it let out a nasty growl mixed with pain that would have been much worse if the girl had been any stronger. As it was, the creature jerked back slightly, its left hand falling away, but its right remaining firm around her neck.

But then others came and the mimic began to panic. These odds were not so good, and--

Something clamped over its own throat and the mimic released Hanna, scratching away at the flesh, twisting its head this way and that in an attempt to bite at whoever dared try to pull it from its prey. Screeching, the creature thrashed and stamped its feet, trying to hit whoever was behind it.

Night 45: West Wing, South Hall 1-B

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