[Chase's own cry echoes around the narrow corridor of the stairwell. True panic is a curious affliction: no one is a fighter or flighter by design. Someone who runs once may raise his fists to the next threat. And there's a third response.
Chase freezes. His limbs seize, legs, arms, the paralysis settles so deep that his lungs forget their function and the breath stills in his throat. Until she jumps towards him and then - it is instinct - his arms are out to catch her before he's told them to. But the fear on his face doesn't diminish.]
Take it off. You have to get your arm out of it! [He's already reaching over her, shoving the lab coat off one shoulder and trying to drag the sleeve roughly downwards.]
She is too weak. I showed her her true character.
[A nightmare of a face closes in behind her, and Dibala's other hand is in her hair, then, twisting and tugging her upwards.]
action;
Chase freezes. His limbs seize, legs, arms, the paralysis settles so deep that his lungs forget their function and the breath stills in his throat. Until she jumps towards him and then - it is instinct - his arms are out to catch her before he's told them to. But the fear on his face doesn't diminish.]
Take it off. You have to get your arm out of it! [He's already reaching over her, shoving the lab coat off one shoulder and trying to drag the sleeve roughly downwards.]
She is too weak. I showed her her true character.
[A nightmare of a face closes in behind her, and Dibala's other hand is in her hair, then, twisting and tugging her upwards.]