_Araneae_

I'd give my life savings to have him go after Elsa Beremud.

I remember the KOV Heckling Thread.

TBH between that and rap battles, I think I just miss being able to savage the place.

A Gryffindor with a really short lifespan if she doesn't get it together soon.

All that talk reminds me. I do wanna do some more touching up on Nastya's bio. I've learned a lot since I first created her, had some new ideas and inspirations, and I'd like to incorporate some of that (as well as potentially pruning excesses).

I'd hate to throw hands with that guy.

Imperfect, but I don't completely feel like dying anymore (again)...

So try not to screw it up this time, self.

@beremud:

So...Just like that. This was it? Katie didn't know what to feel, to say, to do. She was, even then, still stricken dumb by the events of that night, to the point she often forgot that Beremud's own man, the man standing just a few feet from her now, tried to kill her. That the men she herself killed, had tried to kill her. She wasn't wrong. She was only trying to defend herself, to keep them away. Yet despite her acknowledgement of these facts, the lives she snuffed would continue to haunt her, newfound insecurity constantly struggling with her hatred of the woman who caused it all.

Elsa, who knowingly antagonized--who continued to prod now, knowing full well that she was only pushing around the remains of a broken girl, and relishing it. Elsa, who, perhaps unknowingly, had revealed just how little she valued the lives of her own men. How out of touch she was with real people and their thoughts. That she could look at Katie and imagine her conscience could be eased by a petty monetary transaction...that her conscience extended only so far as saving her own skin, and if it happens to help or hurt others then so be it.

Hughes as well. It hadn't escaped her notice, despite his assurances otherwise. While Katie tried hard to appreciate what he was doing for her, it was impossible to be sure how the interpersonal web in the room shaped up. Despite her best efforts and reassurances, she couldn't help feeling that, despite his showing to help her—as a favor to mom, she reminded herself—Walter and Elsa were more alike than either were to Katie herself. Trading lives like commodities...

But there wasn't anything to do, now, except wait for the transaction to be over.

She should've known it was too much to hope for.

"Actually," came Walter again, and another feeling of dread lurched up into her throat, "I'd also like to take a look at the kinds of services your foundation provides. It is one thing for me, as a godfather, to ensure this grievous mistake doesn't happen to ruin Katie's future. Another—even more meaningful—is to ensure that she has a bright future. One that does not require my repeated intervention. She could use structure, counsel, accomplished and dedicated role models, again such as yourself, keen to show her how to keep her head and make wiser decisions, perhaps show her personally how misguided her thoughts were in the first place...

"Just a consideration." He shrugged, casually and indifferent, though more than enough to repel the daggers from Katie's own eyes. "And of course, between friends, I'd be happy to make more than just one significant contribution to the Alaric Foundation."

Katie bit her lip and found the floor again, hoping the memory of all the trouble she'd caused would be enough of a deterrent.

@beremud:

Every nerve in her body was screaming. Danger sense gone haywire. Tiny needles pricked her skin all over and Katie found that she herself had been screaming. She opened her eyes and found herself falling from the top floor of Beremud's compound, ground rushing up to meet her. No time to think. Shooting her arm backwards, a thin silk strand fixed effortlessly to the side of the building.

Unfortunately she hadn't any time to maneuver the spinnerets to form the proper structure, a relatively new and challenging art even under calmer circumstance. The web snapped instantly and Katie tumbled head over heels in a series of rolling flips before slamming hard into the ground with a shriek.

She lay there for several long moments, whimpering, dazed and in so much pain she was afraid to even move despite the increased radar activity telling her she had a much smaller window of escape now.

The glass. Countless small shards decorated her shredded uniform and hair while her body'd been painted red in splotches by cuts all over. Her head was leaking profusely. Paralyzed by pain and confusion, her only saving grace was the fact she was cognizant enough to be aware of the fact she was concussed. But with the bleeding on top of it how long would that last? Slowly, the whining wannabe-reporter rolled over to her stomach, gingerly to her knees, and finally pushed herself up, crying softly as bits of glass pressed deeper into her wounds. Try as she might, her mind couldn't spur her body fast enough to match the sense of urgency brought by the approach of two guards.

Ch-chk! Katie froze. She'd heard that sound enough while shooting with her father to know it by heart. "Oi! Stop right the feck there! Hands up! Now turn around, nice and easy...Jones, she's over here!" he called over his shoulder, then softened his voice as though trying to lure a cat. As if she had any choice. "You're gonna be okay, kid. We're gonna get you some help...We just need you to—"

Fwp!—"Mmmph!" His head snapped back with such force he hit the ground like a fainting goat. His entire face was engulfed by the web and he began writhing on the ground, frantically clawing at the gossamer strands. His hands stuck to his face too. "What the f–" Jones took one look at the scene, at Katie, and with a flick of the wrist produced a baton streaming arcs of electricity. His face was lit with a surprising manic glee for a full-sized man attacking a teenage girl. He swung wide power strikes, struck with swift prodding jabs. Her senses dulled, even with her inhuman physicals Katie barely avoided the strikes.

"No, wait, please! I didn–" Tzzt! She lurched back and stood stunned on the spot. Jones put his boot to her chest and she just barely retained her footing. He wound up for another big swing. Just a little distance. Katie stepped in closer, closed her eyes and shoved as hard as she could.

"Aagh!"

Please, God...

Her hands were warm and slick and wet. Face turned at the ground, she opened her eyes. Jones was still right in front of her, he hadn't moved. His arm slumped and the baton hit the ground. Frozen in shock, Katie didn't dare look up but the sobbing began anew. Rather than shove him away, failing to gauge her own strength, her hands punched right through the front of his now shattered ribcage and all the way to the back.

Frantically she shook herself free and fell down, turned aside and threw up. Not far from Jones, her eyes fell on his ally who, hands still glued to his face, was no longer moving. Now Katie sobbed uncontrollably loudly. No use checking for a pulse. He'd been completely cut off from all oxygen.

Finally, she turned away from the newest additions to the night's catastrophe, wiping her bloodied hands on her skirt as she hobbled over to where her belongings had fallen. Seconds later she was raising her phone to her ear as she limped toward the edge of the property. I need help. I NEED YOU. Please please, please answer...

"Hi, you've reached–"

Damn it! Her sobbing intensified once again, and by the time Katie managed to calm herself to a sniffle the beep had already sounded.

"...

"M-mom...? I...I n-n-need your h-help."

Your choices all sucked so I chose E.