“Now that I have your attention,” Jen said in an unstable tone of voice “we are going to walk down to the bridge, and you are going to give yourself up.”
“But why?” I asked. “Get moving already!” she snarled. I began to get really angry. I had been through hell these last few days, and now this uppity little junior analyst was trying to make me give myself up!
All of the frustration and anger that had been bubbling around deep inside started welling up. I felt energy pouring through my body, starting in my stomach and shooting through to the point where she was touching the knife to my neck.
Jen had time to say “what the…” before a gout of (for want of a better word) matter shot out of my neck, dissolved the knife blade, ran up her arm and encased her head.
I was shocked, although probably not as shocked as Jen was, lying there on the ground suffocating. As I prepared to yell or something to get this thing off of her, it flowed into a ball, shot across to my foot and disappeared into my leg.