Light 'Em Up || Cher & Jason
"You little shit," The words were whispered softly, throat dry and weary but even if it seemed that the brunette was all out, she gave every bit of her reserved energy into the kick, sending her boot into the man's side. The outcry was like a symphony to her ears, her shoe dug deeper into his side to pry more sounds out of him and she only pulled back when the man lay limp on the floor, probably retreated into exhaustion or such. Her hand went to wipe at her lips, taking the blood away and the action stung, cool air hitting broken skin but she ignored it, still finding better things to do than to tend to her own wounds. Cher produced her phone from the depths of her pocket, quickly dialing his number before pressing the ear piece to herself, legs folding as she crouched to inspect the figure. "Pick up, pick up," She mumbled softly, a hand travelling to the guy's face to seek for any further information, besides than the fact he was from the opposing team. The tattoo on the inside of his wrist gave out his identity -- barcode and numbers, each individual bore different serials but it was more than enough of a confirmation. He had put a surprise attack on herwhen she was right on the way to base and holy fuck, she didn't expect a single thing. He wasn't alone, either. They all ran when she managed to strike one man down, fleeing as she turned on her heels to get them next. Every movement she did hurt but the attack wouldn't have been done if there wasn't something else involved, as well.  Her teeth latched onto her lesser lip when the pain struck her side, a hiss leaving the brunette as she stood up when the other line was clear for an answer. "Get here,"  Her hand went to her side, cringing when her fingers turned sticky and wet. Dammit, he got her too. "Just get here, man. Ocean Avenue, alright?," She covered the wound with her palm, trying to keep the gasp quiet when pressure was applied, body convulsing in pain. "Please."
