[center][h2][color=00ff59][i]The[/i] Visage[/color][/h2][/center]

A roar was sounding in Nora's ears, footsteps close behind in priority. This wasn't her, it didn't feel like it. She could look back at them, then disappear, but she wanted more. Is this what Mire felt? Bloodlust? No, she wasn't anything like Mire, Mire was a jackhammer. A constantly spinning jackhammer. Turning her head, she saw three people. When she was completely turned around two more had come into view off to her right. Five nodes readily appeared. Visage had been planning around them having countermeasures to her power, but it was easier without. She changed how she looked with no dissonance, anchoring her physical appearance to the ground as she slowly and carefully walked around them. It was difficult as the group had kept walking forward, forcing her to retreat to stay away. There was no doubt in Visage's mind that these were community members. The fear was a small amount of doubt, a nettle, an annoying itch in the back of her head. A beautiful idea bloomed from that nettle though, and a vicious smile formed on her lips. She stood still now, letting one of the goons get within five feet of her before changing her detached appearance. The man stopped in his tracks, brown eyes wide. It wasn't fear though, it was-It almost seemed to be respect. Visage finished unzipping the small pouch on her hip, withdrawing a small but sturdy knife. Slowly she walked closer, before giving her image another command. She didn't have a doubt about their affiliation now.

Patriarch. standing before them, mouthed the word 'die.' 

The knife didn't slide easily through his throat, catching almost immediately. It had already gone deep enough to be lethal, she assumed, as he struggled with hand raised to his throat. The four others turned quickly, but all they saw was a knife wound and their friend dying. New blood fell from his fingers as she yanked the knife away. They looked back to Patriarch, and found that he wasn't breathing or moving, the only movement was him miming that word. Over and over again.

Visage fled now, bile already in her throat, as the sirens started blaring.