Drowning
From the time she entered the desolate warehouse it was as if time slowed down. She heard the irregular, staccato beat of her heart like background music to an old horror movie, detached from her own body. Her movements seemed sluggish, as if she was wading through shoulder-deep water. Her limbs moved involuntarily, her scuffed sneakers padding cautiously through the shallow pools of water collected on the uneven cement floor.
She jumped a fraction of an inch when her hand came into contact with her face, brushing her matted, dripping hair from her eyes. Her previously glorious, almost defiant tresses were plastered to her skin by the rain, which leaked through the creaking warehouse ceiling, and pounded the dirt-stained streets outside like a death knell. She only hoped it wasn't her own.
The atmosphere seemed completely still and undisturbed by any recent signs of life. She finally decided to make her presence known and called out for the people she was looking for, called for someone, anyone. She would rather be faced with a threat than just stand here, drowning in uncertainty. Her voice seemed to come from a very distant place; the words reaching her ears many moments after her lips uttered them.
She was beginning to think that her difficult journey here had been for nothing and even considered leaving, but immediately swallowed her cowardice. She at least owed him this. She couldn't back out now.
Her lungs inhaled a shaky breath of stale air and her limp hands clenched into fists by her sides. She willed her unnaturally keen senses, unshakeable attitude and combat experience into operation. Her nervousness fed the seeds of unease in her that were already winding their way around her stomach. The main reason for this was that she didn't know why she was so worried. She had faced far greater threats that this ambiguous evil she had come here to fight. The demons that lurked in the depths of her own being instilled more terror within her than anyone, mortal or otherwise, could.
Despite her reassurances, she sensed an ominous foreboding in the still, damp air. She couldn't remove the thick metallic taste of anxiety from the back of her throat.
Finally she saw the vague outline of two figures in the darkness, the first of which was standing next to the crumpled, tied-up form of the second man. Then she focused on the dangerous glint of the revolver, held by the standing man in the dim light.
Her previous doubts fled from her body like electricity rushing to ground. An ancient and familiar current coursed through her that both thrilled and frightened her as muscles tensed for battle.
The events of the next few minutes, despite their importance, flashed by in a sequence of disjointed images and sensations. The rush of air past her face as she leapt forward. Her satisfaction as she threw the armed man to the floor and his gun out of reach. Her distraction as something came crashing through the wall of the warehouse. Her shock as the assailant pulled a concealed weapon from his coat. The unearthly sound of thunder combined with gunshot. And the lancing pain in her chest as the strangely warm bullet bit into her flesh....
As the other feelings died around her, anger, shock, pain, Faith concentrated on the solid floor pressing against her back to prevent fear completely consuming her. Then, as the final darkness engulfed her, she felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her body...