Kat continues to twirl the bottle in her hand, scanning the Allyway she went down. She smelled it first, but she had been in contact with the thing before, so she knew what it smelled like. The hint of sourness in the air that would have many just scrunching up their noses at the smell of trash had her shifting her posture.
It had a habit of going after people off their guard, so Kat had to suddenly look casual.
Kat decided to skip, or stumble rather, acting drunk, humming a tune while spinning the bottle, her other hand white-knuckled, clenching the lighter in her other pocket. Then, there it was, a door, grey wood, aged to brittleness, it stuck out like a sore thumb, especially because it looked as if it was just slapped onto the brick wall it was in like a decal.
The doorknob was red, bright like a warning itself, just like she saw in that cell. Kat continues to stumble, not giving it a second glance, then, with a whisper on the wind, she stops, stumbling to a halt. “Come.” One word on the wind, enough to entice, enough to make you wonder if you heard it.
Just like its cousin locked up in one of their containment cells, it had the same routine, so hopefully, the same weakness.
Kat hums with a tilt of her head, carefully walking over, she looks at the doorknob, swaying slightly, before extending the hand with the hairspray to open it. She knew what was coming, but it still made her jump a bit. The door was barely a crack open when a 8-fingerd hand suddenly grabbed and pushed the door open. It swiped at her hand, trying to grab her wrist and pull her in, but she was faster, jumping back just enough to get out the lighter and flick it on.
An unholy scream came from the many-mouthed creature as Kat let it have the improvised flamethrower she came equipped with. Goop, black as tar, leaked out of the doorway and onto the alleyway, but Kat paid it no mind.
The creature, in its panic, attempted to retreat back into its domain, but she jammed the door open with her foot and continued spraying. Many limbs with too many bends, bones, fingers, toes, teeth, and eyes flailed and tried to fight back. But eventually the screaming stopped, and Kat allowed the door to shut.
Slipping what looked like a chissle out of her other pocket, she began to slam it into the outside frame of the door. The wood groaned like it was being bent with every strike and prise. When she (somehow) finally got a gap between the brick and the doorframe wide enough for her fingers to fit in, she planted her foot just outside the doorframe and began to pull.
With a few grunts and a sound that can only be described as the sound a sticker would make if it were pulled from a wall, but also made of wood, the door, frame and all, simply popped off like a cardboard prop. Kat sighed and tucked it under her arm, making a mental note to bring a tarp next time she turns to exit the alleyway. Only to catch a very shocked 4-armed woman staring at her.