Showdown
A/N: Ok, these darn muses just won't leave me alone. My String, Dom and Caitlin muses are insisting that we keep writing stories for them. Do they not know just how much real life work I've got piling up that's going undone?
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story. I'm just borrowing them for some fun.
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Strong arms grasp suddenly from behind, holding her tight in a viselike grip. A second pair wrap around her throat, squeezing unmercifully as she fights instinctively. Gasping for air, she can't get a breath, and her body immediately goes into alarm status. She frantically searches her assailants face, but can only focus on a pair of bottomless brown eyes peering out from under the black mask covering her captor's face. She fights as hard as she can, her police training coming back to her automatically as she tries to kick strategically, break her assailants' hold on her. But there are two of them. She's outnumbered and quickly overpowered. And without the oxygen she so desperately needs, she begins to weaken, blackness drawing at the edge of her peripheral vision. This is bad, she thinks, real bad.
Her hands start to tingle, her legs bend on their own, then completely give way. The blackness overcomes her and the last thought Caitlin O'Shannessy has before giving into the darkness is not what is happening to her, who these people are, or why it's happening, it's simply whether she will ever wake up again.