Thrown across room

I moved one arm toward the bag at my side, cloth making a soft whisper as it slid across cloth.
And she heard it.
I had my fingertips on the smooth wooden hilt of Fidelacchius when her hand and arm smashed through the wooden bathroom door in a shower of splinters, seized me by the lab coat, and flung me out of the bathroom and into the opposite wall.
I couldn’t believe the force of it. Miyamune’s arm tore through the rest of the door as if the wood had been damp cardboard, ripping the sleeves of her coat and shirt to ribbons while leaving the skin beneath untouched. I dimly registered that I was up against a being with supernatural strength as I flew, relaxed, and hit the wall as flat as I could, my arms slapping back as if taking a fall in judo, one of the other things Charity had taught me.
It worked. I spread out the impact enough to keep it from shattering any bones, and came down on my feet, more or less, hand fumbling for my bag.
Miyamune stared at me for a second, facing me from the far side of the bed, over Stan’s knees. Then, without taking her eyes from me, she reached behind her, as if she knew exactly where to move her arm, and calmly locked the hospital door.
Which did not, at all, send part of me into a gibbering panic. My hands shook so hard that I could barely feel the hilt of Fidelacchius as my fingers closed around it.
“One chance,” I heard myself say, my voice a pale ghost of itself. “Leave. Leave them. All of them. Do it now. And you have my word that you get to walk away alive.”


Brief Cases, Day One, Page 369-370