[@MikkishtheLeprechaun][@Mariana Collie][@Camey]

West pulled her way up on top of the guy as he released another cloud of smoke. She couldn't breath, her eyes stung, but that didn't really matter to her right at this moment. She heard the gunshots but they seemed to come from somewhere far away, they didn't matter. She raised up her fist high in the air and brought it down where she though he might be. A shot of pain shot up her arm as it connected with the sidewalk, but that didn't matter. She went again. Concrete. Again. Concrete. Again! Face? Again! Face!

She felt something roll across her back, pushing her down press against the guy for just a moment. She used that moment to bite something. Then she felt something drag her up, trying to drag her away out the haze. Away from him! Her arms shot out towards him with snarl even as she felt herself being torn away, searching for anything to hold on to. She felt her fingers claw at his face, miss the neck of his shirt, slide into the hem of his pants, but in her frantic clawing they didn't have time to establish a hold. They went down his leg, wrapped around his shoe. She could see slightly now, managed to get her breath back, and shouted, "Do you have any idea how many many people die every day because of stupid bastards like you? Do you?!" She felt the shoe pop off his foot as she was dragged completely out of the smoke, coming off in her vice like grip.

She was about to throw whoever was on her back off and dive back in to keep at his when a voice cut through the other haze, the one in her head. It wasn't the words that were said in her ear that did it, in her state it was doubtful that she even recognized them. It was the tone. Another unmistakable tone, like the one the guy had used when he'd ordered West to get on the ground. Another she was infinitely familiar with. She looked over, blinking her eyes to catch the blurry outline of Bora. Maybe it was just the aftermath of the smoke and the rage, but nothing was in focus except the distinctive pop pops of gunshots. Were they being shot at? Had Bora been shot? 

She shook her head. No. No. Bora hadn't been shot, she'd be screaming. Someone else was shooting? No, it didn't matter. Bullets were going around, this was not the time for retribution anymore. West grabbed Bora by the shoulders, blood from her mangled hand staining the cloth and looked for some cover in random, blurry direction. It was then that she realized that her glasses must have fallen off during the struggle. "Where?" She asked. "You have to lead me."