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[sub]Banner credit to Nitemare Shape. Thanks Boss![/sub]
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[h3]Lost Haven General Hospital
21:36[/h3][/center]

Almost as soon as she was done bandaging herself, she made the mistake of looking over the damage she had wrought in the bathroom. The coppery scent of blood hung in the air, as well as the more unpleasant smells of the human body after it shut down. And she saw the leg of the man with his head through the sink twitching. Apparently a piece of the sink had penetrated one of the major blood vessels of the neck. She [i]immediately[/i] bent over and vomited. She had never killed before, and panic, adrenaline, and horror hit her hard enough to cause her to lose what little she had in her stomach. She stayed on her hands and knees for a long while, tears flowing openly as she sucked in huge gasps of air, trying desperately to get a grip on her mind. [i][color=aquamarine]I can't break down now. There are innocent people in this building who need help. Come on, Darya, get moving![/color][/i]

She climbed to her feet and took another moment to steady herself, snatching a paper towel from the broken dispenser on the wall and wiping away the various fluids from her face, more roughly than she normally might have. Even in the midst of such carnage, she made sure the towel went into the proper receptacle as she leaned out of the door, checking for signs of enemies. No one seemed to be moving outside. She pulled out the radio and pressed the button.

[color=aquamarine]"Dispatch, are you there?"[/color]

"Yep, still here Tiamat. How are you doing in there?"

[color=aquamarine]"Well...There are fewer attackers, now? Five in the bathroom, I think at least two of them are dead. Six in the recovery area. I don't know if [i]any[/i] of them are still alive."[/color]

"Damn! Okay, are you wounded?"

[color=aquamarine]"I'm okay. Took a graze, but I'll live. Can you tell me where the civilians might be?"[/color] She glanced at the wall plate nearby. [color=aquamarine]"I'm on floor five."[/color]

"Reports on the ground from the perimeter say there's a group holding hostages in the lobby. SWAT's still inbound, so for right now we're just watching. One of the staff members who got out says it was pretty skeleton staff right now, maybe a hundred inside, and more than half got out. Judging by the headcount we've gotten, plus the deaths of the staff you told me about, I'm guessing everyone is there in the lobby."

[color=aquamarine]"Then that's where I am going."[/color]

"Whoa, Tiamat, hold on! We can't have you go charging in, not without support. That's how hostages die. You said they had other people in the building, right?"

[color=aquamarine]"Yes. I think they took over the security system, too."[/color]

"Okay. What you could do is go to the security room, it'll be somewhere on the first floor, and deal with them. Then sit tight until I call you, okay?"

[color=aquamarine]"Okay, I can do that."[/color]

"Are you sure you're okay? You sound a little shaky there."

Her voice failed her, and she couldn't voice what she felt. It took her a moment before she managed to weakly say, [color=aquamarine]"I'm fine for now."[/color]

"Alright." The dispatcher seemed not ready to press her. "Whatever you do, stay safe. We'll get you and the civilians out as soon as we can."

The young heroine leaned against the wall, thoughts racing. She had [i]killed[/i] people today. Yes, they had been trying to kill her, but she [i]knew[/i] she could pacify normal people without killing them. But she hadn't. She had shot men dead. She had [i]broken in a man's skull.[/i] And worse, it had been so easy, she hadn't even realised she was [i]doing it.[/i] Her mind flickered back to the fight in the plaza that had landed her here. The man in the suit that had supported them, he had killed easily and efficiently, barely even an expression on his face. Then, too, had been a kill or be killed situation. 

Was this really what hero-ing was? Killing those who tried to kill you while you tried desperately to remember what the right thing even [i]was[/i]? Could she do that? It felt more like being a soldier than a hero, and she had never wanted to be a soldier. Her whole goal had been to...What [i]had[/i] been her goal? Her powers had come on her suddenly, Allah gifting her with extraordinary powers, but had she ever really thought what she should do with them, consciously? The Hounds were obviously needing to be dealt with, but was violence really the only way it could be done? Could there be another option? After all, she knew that some of her father's friends had been radicalised, and the same had happened here. Was there a hope of redeeming these men and women, those on the fringes, who were scared of change but not necessarily [i]evil[/i]?

[color=aquamarine][i]Well,[/i][/color] she thought to herself, kicking off the wall and standing, her fist clenching. Water sluiced to her from the bathroom and ran up her leg, coalescing into a thin film that covered most of her bodysuit. [color=aquamarine][i]Whatever happens, I cannot stand here while people are in danger. That much I [/i]know[i] is part of being a hero.[/i][/color]

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Darya slid along the corridor wall, barely daring to breathe. Past the door hanging halfway open not five feet to her right, she could hear three people talking in low voices. One of them sounded like they were on the phone. Probably calling in support to pull them out. As silently as she could, the girl slipped up to the door and peeked around the corner.

In front of a bank of monitors ten feet inside the room sat two black armoured people with short hair. A third was facing away from her and the monitors both, hand up to her ear. That one resembled the one who had tried to assassinate Darya at the very beginning of this night, covered in knives and with long hair tied in a bun. Another leaned against the wall, arms crossed, just inside the door, watching the monitors and picking his teeth with a finger. All four had submachineguns on them, what looked like MP5s, though the light was dim and made it hard to tell. Three pairs of shoes were visible in one corner, and she could [i]guess[/i] the security guards were not going to be alive, judging by the stains in the carpeting.

She guided the water soaking her clothing out of the fibres and slithering [i]up[/i], along the ceiling through the door. She didn't have much with her, maybe a gallon and a half, but she thought it sufficient for her plan. She divided it evenly across the four people, then dropped it suddenly, steering it into their eyes, noses, and mouths. The woman with the cell phone alos got some along her hands. Then all of it heated quickly up to near boiling temperatures. Not enough to do much damage, she hoped, but enough to make them stop fighting and go down easier.

The panic was easy to see as they thrashed and clawed. As soon as she knew they didn't immediately go for guns, the water flashed down until it froze. She went into the room, then. Her foot lashed out and shattered the man just inside the door's fingers against his gun, and she swung high and hard with a fist, slamming it into the edge of his temple just behind his eye. He went down with a muffled grunt. The other three went down as quickly, and she thawed the ice and drew the water back out of their faces. All four had red marks wherever the water had been, and it looked like she might have gone a bit too hot, because she could see blisters forming already. Still, their fault for being murdering terrorists. They were luckier than the ones upstairs, at any rate. That rationale probably wouldn't hold up to her own scrutiny for long, but at least long enough to get through this night.

She triggered the radio again and let the dispatcher know she had taken care of the security room, and less than fifteen minutes later she watched on the monitors as a well planned SWAT infiltration took down the rest without a single civilian casualty. After that, it would just be answering some questions and heading home.

Right?