Round 5

Jeane shifted toward the hallway arch holding her heavy brass lamp base low, trying to see who—or what—was moving downstairs in the darkness. The rain tapped steadily against the windows while something definitely shifted below, too distinct to ignore. She couldn't see from here which way the intruder came in—the back door? Kitchen?

The Force entered through the unlocked front door with her gun already raised, quickly training her sights on the target near the hallway arch. Her aim wasn't perfect but she fired anyway—Jeane spun around as the bullet punched through her shoulder blade, slamming her into the wall while blood sprayed across the floorboards and wallpaper in bright arcs. The force drove the air from her lungs as she collapsed sideways into the archway, vision exploding in white stars behind her eyes while blood pumped out in heavy spurts.

The assassin sprinted forward through the kitchen, grabbing a clean dish towel on her way past the counter before dropping beside Jeane who was already sliding down against the frame leaving a wide crimson streak. "Jeane! Can you hear me?" she demanded, ripping open the woman's shirt with one hand while pressing the towel against the massive exit wound in her back with the other, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding as crimson soaked through the cloth almost instantly.

Jeane convulsed from the impact, every nerve screaming as pain exploded through her chest and shoulder. The wall rushed up to meet her while consciousness began fading out—no, no, she couldn't pass out, had to stay awake somehow, find help or at least understand what was happening. Her hand fumbled blindly for something, anything, finding only air before sliding down the smooth wallpaper.

The world dimmed at the edges as her vision tunneled, everything going gray while the rain outside still tapped its relentless rhythm against the glass. The pressure in her back eased fractionally as her attacker shifted position again, allowing her to suck in a ragged breath before the pain flared anew. "Help..." she managed to rasp out finally, voice barely audible even to her own ears.

The assassin couldn't leave her like this—she'd bleed out within minutes without intervention. Her training kicked in automatically as she assessed available resources: kitchen knives on the counter, electrical cord from a nearby lamp, possibly something in the bathroom medicine cabinet if she could reach it quickly enough. None of those options were ideal but better than doing nothing.

She made a quick decision: the electrical cord from the nearby lamp was her best option for improvising a tourniquet if she could get it around Jeane's upper thigh quickly enough. Working one-handed while maintaining pressure with the other proved awkward but necessary—I yanked the cord free from the wall socket and began looping it around Jeane's leg above the wound site.

Jeane's vision cleared slightly as she focused on her attacker's face—masked, yes, but female definitely, voice and build both clearly feminine despite the hoodie. The pressure against her back eased fractionally as she adjusted position again, allowing her to suck in a ragged breath before the pain flared anew. "Who... who are you?" she managed to rasp out finally, voice barely audible even to her own ears.

The assassin paused her work for a moment, considering how much information to reveal. The truth wouldn't help Jeane's current situation but might cause panic—and panic could make her thrash or try to remove the tourniquet. "My name is irrelevant right now," she said flatly. "You were shot and will die if we don't get you to a hospital immediately. I'm trying to keep you alive long enough for that to happen."

The response made Jeane's head spin more than the blood loss—she was actually explaining why she'd shot her? The world tilted crazily as she tried to process this information, vision blurring again while nausea rose in her throat. "Why..." she started to ask before coughing weakly, bringing up more blood.

The assassin steadied her with one hand while quickly checking her airway—clear for now but she was definitely in shock and losing consciousness fast. Couldn't let that happen or the tourniquet wouldn't hold long enough. "Because you're going to die if I don't help you," she said sharply, slapping Jeane's cheek lightly. "Stay awake! Tell me your name again."

The slap brought Jeane's focus back momentarily, pain and shock cutting through the haze as she blinked rapidly. "J-Jane..." she stammered out, vision clearing slightly. "Why... why are you helping me? You shot me..."

The assassin maintained eye contact while replying, voice calm and professional despite the urgency of the situation. "I made a mistake—you weren't the target I was expecting to find here. Circumstances have changed and now my objective is getting you to medical help before you bleed out." She began arranging supplies within easy reach: more towels, scissors to cut clothing if needed, the landline phone cord extended as far as possible.

The explanation didn't make sense through the haze of pain and fading consciousness—she'd shot her by mistake? The world tilted crazily again as Jeane struggled to process this information, vision blurring around the edges while nausea rose in her throat. "Not... not the target?" she managed to rasp out finally, voice barely audible even to her own ears.

The assassin nodded sharply once while checking her pulse again—still present but thready and weak. Time was running out faster than she'd like. "Correct. You weren't the person I was looking for. Mistakes happen in my line of work, especially when the target description is poor." She began dialing 911 on the landline phone with one hand while maintaining pressure on her wound with the other.

Jeane's vision blurred again as she fought to stay conscious—what kind of fucked up situation was this? Her attacker was actually trying to help now after shooting her? The world dimmed at the edges as her body shut down non-essential systems, vision tunneling while consciousness wavered. The pressure against her back remained constant though, grounding her in reality despite the encroaching darkness.