Alina was...shocked?

Stunned?

Stupefied, maybe?

Something like that.

She wasn't exactly sure [i]why[/i]; after all, it was part and parcel of this hellhole to have people who could control their own blood. Why not someone who could do anything else? Logically (at least as far as logic went here), it all made sense.

Logic still had a tendency to fail when someone conjures an explosion massive enough to send metal elevator doors flying, yet somehow barely moves. Something about blatant disregard for the known laws of physics shorted out her mind somewhat. Luckily for her, it came online quickly enough for her to realize something:

[i][color=red]Shit, I'm still bleeding.[/color][/i] The slash on her shoulder, though short, still bled profusely. Though she would recollect the blood eventually, there wasn't time for "eventually." They had to move. Now, now, and now. As more blood spilled out, she expanded and hardened it with her mind, filling the slash with a line of solid blood. The bleeding was lessened, only occasionally seeping out around the blockage. More importantly, though, the pain was tremendous. Having a solid object jammed into the wound forced a gasp from her, and nearly broke her focus enough for it to simply revert to blood. She held on, though, to that tenuous concentration, at least enough to grit her teeth and spit to anybody in the elevator behind her, "[color=red]Guess this is our stop. Come on, get out.[/color]" She stood, swaying slightly, and walked out, nudging the man on the floor with her foot. "[color=red]I'm with you,[/color]" she bit out as blood poured down her shoulder, "[color=red]I want nothing more than to lie down right now. But we gotta get going. Up you come.[/color]"

Favoring her uninjured arm, she reached down, grabbing his hand and hauling him upright. There was still some strain on her shoulder, though, and another bolt of pain and and spurt of blood ran down her arm, the blood dripping off at the fingertips. She screwed her eyes together for a second, cursing flagrantly under her breath. Then she opened them, and cursed flagrantly--this time not under her breath. The cameras in the hallway were rapidly readjusting themselves, steadily moving towards her and the man. "[color=red]Come on![/color]" she shouted to whoever happened to be nearby, whether in the elevator or outside, not caring at this point whether or not she was heard, since they were pretty much S.O.L. already. "[color=red]We need to move![/color]"

Then came something she didn't expect, from off in a side hallway. It was close by, too, enough to set her ears ringing. A gunshot. One crisp, clear shot. Her legs blazed back into motion and she darted down the hallways towards the sound. After all, where there were guns, there were probably some of the escapees that hadn't followed her. Safety in numbers, after all. 

She skidded to a halt as she saw something she didn't expect. Pink-haired girl from before—Ava, Ada, something like that, she hadn't had enough time to fully commit everything to memory—was standing next to the boy that had slammed guards to the walls. She remembered his name; not every day you hear the name Fuyuki in America. There was a blood pouring out of a bullet wound in his hand, but...he was holding the gun. She stood stock-still for a moment as she stared at the bizarre tableau. Dimly, she realized that the girl she first busted out of the cell, the one that had asked about the plan, was standing nearby, clearly appreciating the sheer oddness of the situation just as she was.

"[color=red]Whuh?[/color]"