Clarice's attack log

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Clarice woke up in the middle of the night, sounds of shouting and what she thought was gunfire outside.

In the next bed over, her head under the pillow, Marie-Ange mumbled. "Trying to sleep. Go' way."

Rahne sat up muzzily just as someone bashed the door in.

“Holy shit!” Clarice muttered, grabbing her stuffed punk-rock hello kitty that she sleeps with and pulling her sabre out from under her bed. “What kind of nuthouse is this?”

At the sound of the door slamming violently against the wall, Marie-Ange pulled the pillow off her head. The French obscenity halfway out of her mouth turned to a shrill scream as she realized what was happening.

"Shut up," the first man in growled, stepping aside and covering them with a gun. "And don't try anything with that sword, missy."

The second man joined his squadmate a few seconds later, followed by a third, who moved to the far wall, watching the door closely. The last entered, checked the window quickly, and then lunged for Clarice's arm.

“Fuck!” Clarice panicked; there was a blinding flash of white light across her body, and the girl was gone.

She reappeared in the boiler room on top of Sarah’s desk. Her nose was bleeding again from attempting to teleport. Fortunately, the room was dark and quiet. She sat down shaking on Sarah’s bed, waiting for Sarah or Jono to get back or some sort of ‘all clear’ signal.

She was scared to death, laying there, curled up. She didn’t know what she’d do if one of the ‘bad guys’ found her down there, her sabre wasn’t sharp, it was a scare tactic at best, against guns it was worthless and she knew it. But, she thought she’d maybe have a chance.

She lay there, holding it ready when she fell asleep.