(no subject)

[sunnydalealum]

It's not worth the effort, at this point, to make herself firmly visible.

Instead, Meg concentrates on making her voice as loud and solid and present as possible as she zips through the building, ignoring such petty obstacles as walls and floors and extremely surprised lawyers and mentally checking off sites of battle: "All out! Everybody out!" she shouts to Wells and Spoon, and "They're coming down, get ready!" to Buffy and the others in the lobby, and "We're all done, it's time to go!" to River and Spike, and "Find the others, get out now!" to Harth and Mel, and then back to the first group again, as fast as she can.

Everyone has to hear.

Comments

[sunnydalealum]

"That's it, fall back, fall back!" Kennedy shouts hoarsely from the second-floor landing, blocking an overhand blow from an armed zhirel. "Go!"

The Slayers behind her begin to edge backwards, down the stairs, back toward the lobby. It's an orderly retreat, to begin with: giving ground one step at a time, no panic.

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

Wells is growling in the back of his throat by now, not trying to hide it at all; this is what happens when you're covering the girls' backs wherever possible. The last time it was like this... shit, that was the Isthmus crossing, fighting across all by his lonesome. What he wouldn't give for a seven-foot spear and a shield now.

He only had so many bullets to start with; he's got to the point of using the tanto he always carries, the black curved blade that Hephaestos gave him.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon, on the opposite side of the landing from Kennedy, is going down the stairs last, taking as much damage as he can so that the girls can have the least molestation possible as they retreat. His hide is marked from muzzle down with the criss-crossing of all the damage done (although only his face has the silver-burn) and his teeth are red even through all the spitting.

He'll go human-form again when they aren't hand-to-hand.

[sunnydalealum]

Their retreat seems to put fresh heart into the building's defenders. It's slow going, down the stairs; it would be slower if there were any way for the defenders to press them from two sides at once.

One Slayer is moving with a crossbow bolt through her arm, protruding front and back. At least two are being carried or supported by others. Nobody's getting left behind.

They're nearing the bottom of the stairs, and two Slayers peel off from the rear to make sure they're not backing into more enemies.

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"should've brought the fucking thermic lance-" Wells flattens himself against the nearest wall to give one of the girls a better chance, and then lets out a volley of Arcadian Greek as something sharp nails him in the shoulder. It'll heal, but it still hurts like bloody fuck. "Shift it, ladies!"

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon picks up an interesting looking head and manages to spike it on part of the armor that didn't pop off entirely when he changed form. It will fall off when he goes back to human form, being far too big then, but for now he can keep track of new trophies.

...Morbid fucker. Anyway. His contribution to the pandemonium is the best imitation of a yautja roar that he can do. Discounting the lack of mandible chatter it's actually pretty good.

[sunnydalealum]

The lobby's nearly deserted by now, with the building's defenders having been pushed further in. The only people still in it are the handful of wounded Slayers and the three there to guard them.

They're already getting the wounded to their feet (and, in one case, picking up a woman too hurt to stand), poised and waiting.

[sunnydalealum]

"We're good," Margret shouts to them from the back of the lobby, "we're coming, just --"

The word's cut off in a yelp as a security guard breaks through the line to rush her, and she's thrown against the wall.

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

"Fucker," says Wells simply, and springs for the guard.

It would be nice to say that the tanto flashes in the lobby light, but Hephaestos went to a lot of trouble to make these things concealable. There's a flickering movement of his arm that could be mistaken for an incoming punch if it didn't happen to be carrying an eternally sharp bit of blackness at the end of it.

Hope that guard didn't need his arteries intact or anything.

[river_meimei]

Scene: yet another hallway, bland and corporate and (now) blood-stained. Characters: one gunslinger, one souled vampire, and a dozen or so humans and demons in various stages of fury and injury.

River's head lifts sharply, a moment before a young and disembodied voice calls over the sounds of battle. We're all done, Meg shouts, it's time to GO! and then River ducks again, under a swinging scythe-claw of an arm, and stabs the demon in the stomach.

Most of their attackers are down by now, or at least wounded enough to fight slower. Enough for a retreat route.

[bloodandnicotine]

One of the humans does a double-take at Meg's brief appearance; Spike takes advantage of the brief distraction to sidestep the stake, move in close, and break the man's arm backward at the elbow.

"Sounds like time to find our coats and call a cab, love," he calls to River, over the noise.

[river_meimei]

River blinks at him, apparently heedless of the fray; apparently is a key word there, given the way she manages to avoid two blows and an inexpertly flung spear in that moment's glance. (The spear would have been thrown much more expertly, but its wielder took a sword slice to the arm a few minutes ago.)

"No," she says.

"Better run."

And then suits action to words.

[bloodandnicotine]

Spike throws the man he's holding into another of them, and sets off at her heels.

"Just need a door --"

[river_meimei]

There's are two doors several yards down the hallways; both are closed, and possibly locked. Or possibly not.

And there's a doorway at the end of the hallway.

Unfortunately, there are also reinforcements arriving.

[bloodandnicotine]

He hates to run from a fight, anyway. Running into another one makes him feel a bit better about the whole thing.

Without breaking stride, Spike bends to retrieve the spear that missed River earlier from the floor. It's a heavy length of metal, a solid weight in his grip, and he spins it expertly in his hands as they move.

[river_meimei]

River half-reaches for the first doorknob, and then spins away without touching it. Her eyes are narrowed, intent and fierce.

Setting her back to the wood instead, she fires: eleven shots (guns roaring in overlapping thunder, and the cries and gurgles of the ones who die with bullets in face and throat and spine) and then a twelfth, and then her fingers blurring to reload, reload fast before she has to grab for her sword again instead and that's soon--

Her head snaps up and she jerks sideways, but it's River who gasps this time, at the sudden meaty thud and the wickedly barbed arrow protruding from her bicep.

[bloodandnicotine]

Spike curses under his nonexistent breath. The spear blurs in his hands, the blade wounding the two closest attackers and the butt striking a third's horned skull with an appalling crack.

It's enough to give them a few seconds' respite, and he takes it.

"Hold still, pet --" He reaches for the arrowhead protruding from the exit wound, to snap the shaft below the barb.

[dreamer_fray]

Harth's head whips around, then he grins and gives the already-gone Meg a wave.

"Well, that's our cue to leave," he says pleasantly. "Strategy or wing it, Mel?"

[slayer_fray]

Mel shrugs, and looks surprised.

"Strategy? Me?"

[sunnydalealum]

Amy's staring at the two Frays. "Wait, what?"

Both the zhirelin braced to fight at the abrupt appearance of the ghost; its equally abrupt disappearance has left them a bit off balance.

[dreamer_fray]

"Our communications are esoteric but effective," Harth says brightly to the two confused Slayers, then turns back to his sister.

"Aw, but I like cunning plans," he pouts.

[slayer_fray]

Mel smiles and nods to the girls to support Harth's story, but her heart isn't really in it, because she's arguing with him.

"Yours always get thwarted," she points out. "By someone who never makes them."

Her.

[sunnydalealum]

A flicker of a glance passes between the two zhirelin.

"Hang on," Amy says, stepping back.

Juliet's ignoring her, heading toward the wall where the ghostly figure disappeared as though to examine it for trapdoors.

[dreamer_fray]

"Shut up," says Harth sulkily, and folds his arms.

"But if anything, that only proves how much better things'd go if you'd think ahead once in awhile."

[slayer_fray]

"...not seeing how me constantly kicking your ass is proving anything but my way is better."