Sara was attached to the edge of a building, the Witchblade’s tendrils punched deep into the brick as it tended to a wound on her arm. Whatever it is that was ravaging the city, the Witchblade was effective at keeping it out of her system.
The sound of gunfire made her look over, the Witchblade releasing the building and dropping to the ground with enough weight to crack the pavement, a side effect of the Witchblade covering her entire body. As it flowed back over her face, Sara stepped out of the alley to see a group of heavily armed and armoured men shooting down a group of fleeing people. Fleeing, screaming, apparently not-infected people.
Eyes wide, Sara stared in horror as they fell, twitching, to the ground. Even as bullets pinged off of the Witchblade, she stared. We’re supposed to protect people…
Sara slowly turned her sights on the armed men, blades sprouting from her arm as she darted forward, death in her eyes.