The odds are just not in Mello's favor today (but when are they ever, really) - he's hit by the stun beam mid-stride and crashes to the ground in an ungainly tangle of his own immobilized limbs. The pistol in his hand skitters off underneath a bush to the side, far out of his reach, and he's left sucking in sharp breaths through his clenched teeth against the pain of the blast, the fall, and what he estimates is coming next.]
[What's coming next is Bianca, with her long daggers. She could have just fired the staser again, but that's just target practise; Bianca is at a level of pain and fury that demands blood for blood.
And there's plenty of blood. She's whitefaced, holding one hand to the spreading patch of sticky darkness over her lower ribs, but she's upright, still holding herself together - no for a lot longer, but long enough.
She doesn't talk. She doesn't have the breath for it. She just eyes Mello's throat for a moment, bares her teeth like an angry dog, and then strikes.]
[Mello has been prepared for death - expecting it, ever since he settled on the plan to show Near the grave miscalculation he'd made, a stratagem that depended on his death to be successful. He has imagined his death many times over, even dreamt it - but not like this. A heart attack is far too bloodless and passive in comparison to what Bianca enacts on him now.
No amount of willpower can override the paralysis of his muscles as she draws in close, and there is no time for him to speak (what would he even say?) before the edge of the blade slices into his throat and he is left making undignified gurgling sounds instead of words, wheezing his last breaths as the world in front of his eyes goes dark.]
[The worst thing about murdering someone to relieve the pressure of grief and rage balled in Bianca's throat is that - it really doesn't. The catharsis she had mentally linked to the hot arterial spray doesn't happen. All she has for her trouble is ruined clothing, a hole in her ribcage and an inconvenient corpse.
Bianca straightens, wipes her dagger on her trousers, and leans against a tree while she thinks about what to do next. She had fantasised about delivering Mello's severed head to Hope's temple, a delicious parody of an offering to lay on his altar, but she thinks about the butcher's work of hacking through bones and cartilage and knows she isn't up for it.
No. She'll just summon the city guard from where she is. She's too exhausted to make any more decisions; let that nice Nick Valentine do it.
She pulls her phone out of her pocket and stares at it.]
[And Bianca certainly wasn't expecting this. Though, she supposes, she shouldn't be surprised. It was always clear that Shadow was special.
Oh dear. Shadow.]
Shadow, dearheart, are you all right? I could have walked, you know.
[Not very easily and probably not without puncturing another lung, but since he's made walking completely unnecessary, Bianca may as well claim the possibility.]
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The odds are just not in Mello's favor today (but when are they ever, really) - he's hit by the stun beam mid-stride and crashes to the ground in an ungainly tangle of his own immobilized limbs. The pistol in his hand skitters off underneath a bush to the side, far out of his reach, and he's left sucking in sharp breaths through his clenched teeth against the pain of the blast, the fall, and what he estimates is coming next.]
no subject
And there's plenty of blood. She's whitefaced, holding one hand to the spreading patch of sticky darkness over her lower ribs, but she's upright, still holding herself together - no for a lot longer, but long enough.
She doesn't talk. She doesn't have the breath for it. She just eyes Mello's throat for a moment, bares her teeth like an angry dog, and then strikes.]
no subject
No amount of willpower can override the paralysis of his muscles as she draws in close, and there is no time for him to speak (what would he even say?) before the edge of the blade slices into his throat and he is left making undignified gurgling sounds instead of words, wheezing his last breaths as the world in front of his eyes goes dark.]
no subject
Bianca straightens, wipes her dagger on her trousers, and leans against a tree while she thinks about what to do next. She had fantasised about delivering Mello's severed head to Hope's temple, a delicious parody of an offering to lay on his altar, but she thinks about the butcher's work of hacking through bones and cartilage and knows she isn't up for it.
No. She'll just summon the city guard from where she is. She's too exhausted to make any more decisions; let that nice Nick Valentine do it.
She pulls her phone out of her pocket and stares at it.]
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She smiles weakly at Shadow. Her voice is thin and shallow, when she speaks.]
Shadow, my dear friend. I need to surrender myself to the Guard - so kind of you to come and find me.
Perhaps you could help me to the clinic?
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Oh dear. Shadow.]
Shadow, dearheart, are you all right? I could have walked, you know.
[Not very easily and probably not without puncturing another lung, but since he's made walking completely unnecessary, Bianca may as well claim the possibility.]
Someone has to arrest me. I promised.
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