The first thing Raven sees is Sean, on the ground and grasping at what can't be a minor wound. She's tempted to run straight to his side, dial 911 but then she spots the other two, headed for either an escape or more ammo, and she knows this is one of those moments where Erik is right – that they're better, that hiding isn't doing anyone any favors.
Cream and blonde give way to blue and red, and she doesn't let herself flinch at the expressions on the faces of the goons as they grab for her, torn between wanting to stop her and not wanting to lay their hands on her scaled skin. They don't get a chance before she's spinning, twisting her frame and sliding a foot under one of the two men's that sends him flying to the ground. His head smacks the concrete hard and it turns her stomach sick, wondering what kind of damage she might have done and whether this is why people fear her and her kind.
She can't dwell on it too long, though, because the second is closing in on her and he's no longer unarmed. When and where he pulled the knife from, she can't be sure, but the sharp metal of it glistens and she can't allow herself a moment for fear or hesitation. She just has to disarm him.
Raven's surprised by her own reflexes as she grabs at his arm, twisting it to the point that she thinks maybe she can hear a bone break, wondering if that's a good or a bad thing. It reminds her of the helplessness she felt when she'd been in the alley that day, approached by some creep who couldn't have known her strength. And how much she wished she'd been able to show him, to be the threat instead of the threatened. It's less appealing now that her and Sean's lives are on the line.
She's quick to get him to the ground with the same nauseating thud of skull on ground, but not before the knife is in her thigh and she knows that this is what they mean when they talk about pain searing. Burning. It's unlike anything she's ever felt before and she can't remember whether she's supposed to leave the blade in, or not, whether that's something they ever covered in any mandatory first-aid class. She doubts it.
It's hard to think of anything but the pain and Raven's sure if she wasn't already in her natural form, she wouldn't be able to focus on keeping up her usual facade. Somehow she manages to stagger over to Sean, keeping one eye on their attackers as she kneels, looking to inspect his wound instead of her own. "Sean," she cries, despair and pain. "Can you hear me?"
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Cream and blonde give way to blue and red, and she doesn't let herself flinch at the expressions on the faces of the goons as they grab for her, torn between wanting to stop her and not wanting to lay their hands on her scaled skin. They don't get a chance before she's spinning, twisting her frame and sliding a foot under one of the two men's that sends him flying to the ground. His head smacks the concrete hard and it turns her stomach sick, wondering what kind of damage she might have done and whether this is why people fear her and her kind.
She can't dwell on it too long, though, because the second is closing in on her and he's no longer unarmed. When and where he pulled the knife from, she can't be sure, but the sharp metal of it glistens and she can't allow herself a moment for fear or hesitation. She just has to disarm him.
Raven's surprised by her own reflexes as she grabs at his arm, twisting it to the point that she thinks maybe she can hear a bone break, wondering if that's a good or a bad thing. It reminds her of the helplessness she felt when she'd been in the alley that day, approached by some creep who couldn't have known her strength. And how much she wished she'd been able to show him, to be the threat instead of the threatened. It's less appealing now that her and Sean's lives are on the line.
She's quick to get him to the ground with the same nauseating thud of skull on ground, but not before the knife is in her thigh and she knows that this is what they mean when they talk about pain searing. Burning. It's unlike anything she's ever felt before and she can't remember whether she's supposed to leave the blade in, or not, whether that's something they ever covered in any mandatory first-aid class. She doubts it.
It's hard to think of anything but the pain and Raven's sure if she wasn't already in her natural form, she wouldn't be able to focus on keeping up her usual facade. Somehow she manages to stagger over to Sean, keeping one eye on their attackers as she kneels, looking to inspect his wound instead of her own. "Sean," she cries, despair and pain. "Can you hear me?"