[Clarice heard shouting and had instinctively stopped what she was doing to run after the sound. Dark alleys, creepy abandoned city surroundings, and a sketchy warehouse or broken window here and there. Barely lit streetlights and no map or sense of direction to guide her. Agent Starling was good with directions, and had a pretty decent head on her shoulders when it came to not getting lost. But in a place she was completely unfamiliar, she wasn't much better off than your average civilian. The only thing setting her apart as a determination to mask her uncertainty and anxiety with bravado and her FBI training that was drilled into her head.
What would Jack Crawford d? If there was such a bracelet, she'd be wearing it here.
Gun out, arms up, ready to shoot without a moment's hesitation, she rounds the corner, running straight into one of the things. It's tongue wraps around her almost instantly as she squirms to get out of its grasp, fight and survival kicking in and postponing her horror and confusion regarding what the Hell had latched onto her.
When she saw its face, she tried pushing it away, but her angle was all wrong. It was behind her and she couldn't get off a shot to any vital spots. When she shot the foot, all that seemed to do was piss it off further and unleash an inhuman groan of pain.
ᶜˡᵃʳᶤᶜᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳˡᶤᶰᵍ // ˢᶤˡᵉᶰᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵐᵇˢ
[Clarice heard shouting and had instinctively stopped what she was doing to run after the sound. Dark alleys, creepy abandoned city surroundings, and a sketchy warehouse or broken window here and there. Barely lit streetlights and no map or sense of direction to guide her. Agent Starling was good with directions, and had a pretty decent head on her shoulders when it came to not getting lost. But in a place she was completely unfamiliar, she wasn't much better off than your average civilian. The only thing setting her apart as a determination to mask her uncertainty and anxiety with bravado and her FBI training that was drilled into her head.
What would Jack Crawford d? If there was such a bracelet, she'd be wearing it here.
Gun out, arms up, ready to shoot without a moment's hesitation, she rounds the corner, running straight into one of the things. It's tongue wraps around her almost instantly as she squirms to get out of its grasp, fight and survival kicking in and postponing her horror and confusion regarding what the Hell had latched onto her.
When she saw its face, she tried pushing it away, but her angle was all wrong. It was behind her and she couldn't get off a shot to any vital spots. When she shot the foot, all that seemed to do was piss it off further and unleash an inhuman groan of pain.
Oh God, please. This is not how I die.]