Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

Closed into their own personal labyrinth away from the other team, the Blackhawk finally relaxes her stance once she's convinced that the doors coming down are all that's going to happen, and looks at Bronze Tiger and Plaz.

"Guess we know which way we're headed," she says philosophically, as she glances down the hallway. "This shouldn't stop 'Riz from keepin' in touch with us, though."

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[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

She'd just managed to emit a surprised yelp as the floor vanished beneath her, giving her little time to even attempt to find some purchase. The fall isn't too far, but she lands hard, the air forced from her lungs in a sharp and painful grunt. Times like this I wish I had gadgets, she thinks. She managed to keep hold of her weapon, though, which she'll take as a small victory.

Drawing her legs under her slowly in case she's bruised her tailbone in the fall, she reaches for her hat and looks upward, trying to adjust her eyes to the lack of light. Then she reaches for her communicator. "Hey! Can y'all hear me?" It may be futile, but it's worth a try.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

She finds herself in a hallway much like the one above her, only the painting across from her is smirking instead of scowling.

The end of the hallway T's in either direction in front of her, behind her is a blank wall. From around the right corner at the end of the hall, a slovering nose pokes around, sniffing the air. The head of a horribly mutated doberman pinscher follows the nose, its lips curled into a snaggle toothed snarl as it begins to growl.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

"I'll take that as a no," she mutters, stilling as she catches sight of the dog -- or whatever it used to be. Muscles tense, the adrenalin kicking in. Fight or flight? Like hell she'll fly. She lifts her weapon, the safety's click echoing oddly around the stone walls, and matches its snarl with the cold glare of steel. "Come get it, Fido."

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

Two more snarling faces join their littermate and all three dogs, the size of baby elephants, block the end of the hall, hackles raised and growling loudly.

It's quiet for a heartbeat, then with echoing barks they attack.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

She only has one chance to make it count. Good thing she's used to it. The second Colt finds its way to her left hand. Shots ring out, each bullet destined for a spot right between the eyes, their casings rattle across the floor.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The center dog takes the hit as aim letting out a loud yelp before stumbling to the floor.

The dog to the left tries to leap, and it moves like lightning. The bullet takes it in the shoulder, and it's wince makes it pause.

The third dog lept to the right, clawing along the wall for a few feet still barking and growling like mad.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

It can bark and growl all it wants. Without pause, she lets loose another barrage of gunfire, muzzle flashes flaring.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

It's quick and has learned from what happened to its littermates. It leaps off of the wall, away from the bullets, only taking a couple with loud grunts, but still closing the distance.

The one hit in the head, stumbles to its feet with a shake that sends blood droplets everywhere.

The one of the left has lost the use of the shot leg and is preparing to jump with more growling from all of them.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

She rises to her feet, both guns held out in front of her. Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes, is a familiar saying, and for good reason. She'll wait until they leap, and take two aimed shots -- right down their gullets. See how well they can bite with their brains blown out.

Assuming they have them.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The one from the right takes the bullets which rip through the back of its neck, practically severing its head from the rest of it. There's much more goo than there should be.

Then the one on the left slams into her from the side, leaving a nice blood splotch on her, leaving attack open for the dog with the hole in the skin of its head, its skull plain to see and undamaged except for a divit where the bullet scraped against it.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

"Ungh-- "

The Blackhawk's thrown by the creature's weight. She's barely got time to try and turn away in her fall before the other is on top of her, the landing jarring her again. Her arm comes up instinctively to block its mouth from her face and she can feel its teeth sink into flesh through the aviator jacket's padding. Blood drips into her face -- not hers. Not yet, anyway.

Her other hand takes blind aim and fires another shot off at it, at point-blank range. "Sit, boy!" she growls through gritted teeth.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The shot finds flesh, exploding it into a shower of gore at this range.

Then the third dog slams into her again, biting at her shoulder.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

A fresh surge of pain flashes across her shoulder. Now the Southern Belle's getting mad. She wrestles with it, bringing up an elbow to knock its head back and give her a clear shot. The muzzle of her Colt gets shoved down its open and drooling throat. She locks eyes with it for the briefest of moments.

Cold fury meets savagery.

Guess which is going to win.

She pulls the trigger, an explosion of her temper, blood and gunpowder filling the air.

"HAWKAAAAAAA!"

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The back of the dog's head explodes out, and its body drops twitching to the floor.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

Zinda pushes the thing's corpse off of her and sinks back to the floor for a moment, breathing heavily. Her left arm feels warm, and the fabric of her uniform is sticking to it. When the surge of adrenalin wears off, she's sure she's going to feel it. She hopes the jacket took the brunt of the damage.

Eventually, she sits up and releases the empty clips from her weapons, reaching into the jacket's inside pocket to reload; ignorant to the blood and gore that's caking her and pooling out on the cold floor. "Guy needs to work on his hospitality skills, for sure," she mutters, slowly getting back to her feet.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

There is a slight scurrying noise, liks paws and claws on the cement. At the sound of her voice the noise stopped.

A moment later it started up again, this time followed by a slight trilling noise. The noise is followed by the appearance of a small furry head and whiskers twitching in curiosity.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

She gives the new arrival a disparaging look. "Don't even think about pissin' me off right now, Nermal."

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The bright eyes and twitching whiskers are almost disgustingly cute. So is the little trill it gives when she speaks to it.

Several little steps forward are taken. The creature resembles a squirrel with a better make up job.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

It will find itself greeted by the muzzle of a semi-automatic pistol. "I don't care how cute you look. I've blown the brains outta much prettier things."

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The eyes get even bigger as the gun is levelled at it. Letting out a startled meep it hugs the ground giving her a disbelieving look. How could she possibly want to hurt it?

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

Given her mood right now? Quite easily. "Well, you're smart enough to recognize a threat when you see it. Which makes me wonder what else you got up your furry li'l sleeve." Her injured arm's beginning to ache, a dull throb that'll likely get worse. Zinda wipes another glob of gunk off her jacket. "If you know what's good for you, you'll scoot, right now."

She starts moving off down the hallway. She hopes it'll eventually connect up again wherever Plaz and Tiger are at.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The creature runs in front of her bounding along happily. This way, this way, back to her feet then a quick u-turn and down the hall.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

She sighs. "Fine, Lassie. Whatever. But the second I see teeth or whatever crazy-ass stuff this guy did to you, I've got a bullet right here with your name on it."

The pain in her left arm is bothering her more and more. As much as she doesn't want to restrain the movement, she might do more damage to it if she continues to try and use it. Holstering one of her weapons and reaching into her pockets, Zinda brings out a small first-aid kit, sits back down and peels off her jacket to clean up the wound on her arm. The jacket's then put back on, the kit tucked away, and then she makes a makeshift gauze sling for it.

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

The creature sits a few feet away from her feet looking at her and trilling sympathetically while she bandages herself. When she's in the sling and ready to go again it starts it's little ritual of dashing at her feet then down the hall again.

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

She gives it a bemused look, then shakes her head as she gets to her feet, her left arm now secured. "So where're you leadin' me, Lassie? Hope there ain't no wells around here..." The Blackhawk cautiously follows the little animal down the passage. Maybe it'll connect back up with the others. Either way, maybe the animal at least knows where there's some food source. If she's going to be wandering for a while, she could use some sustenance.