The iron gates groaned like a crusty old crone as Vixen stumbled through, leaving a trail of crimson droplets in her wake. Her face was a kaleidoscope of purples and reds, eyes swollen near shut from Mara's relentless onslaught up on that rooftop.
She only made it a few more paces before them stems gave out completely, her battered frame crumpling to the floor in a sad heap. Guards rushed in, hollering for the medics - but Vixen could barely make out their words over the deafening thunder of her own ragged breaths rattling in her skull.
Next thing she knew, those blank, antiseptic walls of the Syndicate infirmary were closing in around her. Smelling like a heady mix of industrial cleaner and severed hopes, if such a stench existed. Vix tried to sit up, muscles screaming in protest, only for a firm hand to ease her back down onto the cot.
