I hurried to the next target on my armband. It was a woman witih a white costume, white hair and what was probably skull paint on her face. It was hard to tell, and not just because of the rain smudging the make-up. Nearly half her face was torn off.
…that’d do it, yes.
Glanced by one of Leviathan’s claws, maybe, or caught by the lash of water from his tail.
Either way, if she survives this, she’s gonna have a hard time avoiding getting a certain nickname from the Batman fans in her life.
“Hey,” I shook her gently by the shoulders, “You awake? You alert?”
Maybe a stupid question. I didn’t even know if she could talk with her face like that.
If she can’t, there might be other methods of communication available to her, like moving an arm.
A small wave sloshed against us, she sputtered and turned her head, didn’t respond. That was a ‘no’ to at least one of my questions. I suspected her condition was a combination of shock and blood loss as much as anything else.
Another thing that getting half your face torn off will do to you.
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