239/343 General Power 4

She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but only a gurgle came out. She looked at Clef and gurgled again, louder, angrily. Her bowels began to empty black, blood smelling feces onto the floor, which in turn morphed into coals, and began to spread out slowly, burningly. Clef was preparing to make a mad dash when the floor’s progression slowed and stopped. He blinked twice and looked around the room.

343 was standing just behind Lore, his face knit in concentration. The old man’s nose had a drop of blood forming from the left nostril, slowly running down over the crest of his lip, and dropping to his shirt.

343 flinched. “If you’re going to do something, Doctor…”

Clef raised the gun again, and clicking the hammer back, let it fall.

The gun popped slightly, bars of energetic power running over its metal surface.

“FUCK!” screamed Clef. “A goddamned recharge rate?!”

The girl screamed in rage, and 343 cried out, staggered by the changes she was forcing into the world. The drugs in her system were quickly dissipating, her control over the world around her returning.

Clef grabbed Lore and pushed her hard, leaving her tottering toward the far wall of the wide room as he madly dashed for the opposite side.

The floating woman turned the air into chlorine for a moment, just a moment, before 343 could stop her. A child in an adult body, broken and beaten over the course of a decade, lashing out with her shattered mind. The older SCP was kneeling on the floor, ears bleeding. His knotted hands were clenched, as his foe turned for the moment from Clef to float toward him.

It was almost beautiful to watch, Clef thought, stopping for an instant to observe what he hoped was a rare circumstance. The distance between them crackled as the hovering female changed things, reversing the laws of physics and existence as 343 set them back into place. It was like watching a petulant child throwing her toys to the floor and her patient grandfather picking them up and setting them right.

Clef edged around near the now dead kitten door, raising the revolver again. He fired, the painful report running up his arm as chunks of the hovering menace were ripped from her body and thrown behind her to the mirror. She screamed as the cancers started to form almost instantly under her flesh.

“Don’t care much for that, do you little girl?” shouted Clef, as 343 suddenly locked the universal order back into place.

Clef dropped the gun and bull rushed her before she could recover, hitting her tiny midsection sharply and pushing her toward the mirror, grasping the red disk and shoving.

***
Unfinished Business