[So the Handler can shove his instructions up his ass for all she cares, since he seems far more scared of Gio than of a bunch of Westie criminals.
He tries to protest but she's already moving, nowhere near as fast as Gio considering the fact she's only got her regular human legs to carry her through the ship towards the hole. It means that when she makes it, the vehicles have already pulled up, people spilling out of them, and she doesn't hesitate to lift her gun to shoot the first one she gets clear sight of. Gio's already in the thick of it, and she wonders if maybe he can handle it on his own, except that doesn't sit right with her, and not just because she really wants to hit someone.
The next few shots are taken as she moves closer, until another vehicle pulls up from behind, nearly running her over, but more importantly she loses her gun as she scrambles to get out of the way.
Focus.
The voice in her head isn't hers, a flash of a memory accompanied by a woman's warm smile and the smell of sweat, before the vehicle swings around to take another shot at her.
This time, she doesn't dodge.
Clearly the hood is surprisingly easy, holding her balance as the driver swerves is easy, running forward to kick said driver in the head is a little trickier, but not impossible. When the vehicle starts to get out of control, she leaps off, landing in a roll and bouncing to her feet as soon as she's clear.
And then she's in the fray.
There's something thrumming in her blood, more than just adrenalin, more than just the exertion of the fight. It feels like home, ducking punches, flipping up and over crooks (she didn't even know she could do that), delivering hard kicks to where she knows it'll hurt this most. Whatever this is, it feels like home.]
no subject
[So the Handler can shove his instructions up his ass for all she cares, since he seems far more scared of Gio than of a bunch of Westie criminals.
He tries to protest but she's already moving, nowhere near as fast as Gio considering the fact she's only got her regular human legs to carry her through the ship towards the hole. It means that when she makes it, the vehicles have already pulled up, people spilling out of them, and she doesn't hesitate to lift her gun to shoot the first one she gets clear sight of. Gio's already in the thick of it, and she wonders if maybe he can handle it on his own, except that doesn't sit right with her, and not just because she really wants to hit someone.
The next few shots are taken as she moves closer, until another vehicle pulls up from behind, nearly running her over, but more importantly she loses her gun as she scrambles to get out of the way.
Focus.
The voice in her head isn't hers, a flash of a memory accompanied by a woman's warm smile and the smell of sweat, before the vehicle swings around to take another shot at her.
This time, she doesn't dodge.
Clearly the hood is surprisingly easy, holding her balance as the driver swerves is easy, running forward to kick said driver in the head is a little trickier, but not impossible. When the vehicle starts to get out of control, she leaps off, landing in a roll and bouncing to her feet as soon as she's clear.
And then she's in the fray.
There's something thrumming in her blood, more than just adrenalin, more than just the exertion of the fight. It feels like home, ducking punches, flipping up and over crooks (she didn't even know she could do that), delivering hard kicks to where she knows it'll hurt this most. Whatever this is, it feels like home.]