[h1][b][i][color=lightblue][center]Shin-ae Yun[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[center][img]https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/Zxbwq_UeWaxQJIbhzXOuAw--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTIwNDg7aD0xMTUy/https://media.zenfs.com/en/comingsoon_net_477/18ead59aa410f975313e99a05011bee4[/img]

[i]Location: West Caldwell Streets
Skills: N/A[/i][hr][hr][/center]
Many things could be said about Shin-ae Yun. But 'athletic' was not one of them.

Her breaths came fast, hard,, and unsteady, rattling in and out with force enough to shred her throat raw and leave a strange taste in her mouth. The adrenaline was faltering now that there wasn't hell breaking loose all around her. So she was really starting to feel her thighs burning. Every time she thought to stop, to take a rest by the side of the road and [i]lie down[/i] for a second, the memory of Meredith only barely held back from ripping her throat out would replay in her head. The memory of frantically weaving along the clogged streets and sidewalks as military vehicles blockaded Manhattan. Her hands would start to feel cold and clammy, icy sweat drenching the already-sodden handlebars. Those people...[i]things[/i] could be anywhere. 

So where adrenaline faltered, Shin-ae's [i]terror[/i] kept her pedaling.

The violin case was something that she'd long gotten used to carrying by now; all the way from elementary school onward, for hours and hours, until if she grabbed only its handle and nothing else with eyes closed, she could still tell precisely what it was by how intimately familiar the weight was; it was second nature by then. But she generally didn't carry it on a bike through hilly terrain while physically and mentally exhausted; so its weight was starting to pull her down as well.

After a hill that felt like it had gone on forever, she finally crested it and spared a single harried sigh at the knowledge that she could go downhill for a moment and could rest her screaming legs. So relieved was she at the sudden easy speed that she didn't need to work for that for just a split second she wasn't paying full attentio, to her surroundings. 

At which point someone dressed in some kind of sports padding came out of seemingly nowhere, wound up a crosse, and swung it in a broad, sweeping arc.

"[color=lightblue]Wait, wait,[/color]" she tried to shout, but her throat was raw enough that speech had deserted her, regressing to an indistinct croaking noise that did little to stop the crosse from clotheslining her. What little breath she had left her in an explosive [i]oof![/i] and her bike carried on riding itself for a few more feet before falling to the pavement with a deafening crash at about the same time as she did. She clutched her torso where the cross had made contact as she curled in on herself. It didn't feel like anything was broken, she wasn't severely injured, and her heavy coat had protected her from the worst of the impact. But the knee of her sweatpants was shredded, and she could feel blood running from the new abrasion. She couldn't see it just then, but she hoped it wasn't...[i]too[/i] bad.

For a long moment, all that came out of her was a long, thin groan. Then finally:

"[color=lightblue]Whyyyyyyy...[/color]"