Something feels strange. Which is nothing Niki should be all too surprised about, since she has never before gotten her brains blown in and then grown back again, but it still feels like there's something wrong. But there's no time to think about that, because her handler is dying, and she has to muster up the sorrow and pity to keep the waterworks flowing, twinkling droplets transubstantiating into flesh and blood, divinity dissolving into and nourishing the real. The wounds close, but they stay transparent, made out of tears, as does the blood. 

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... ... (And for some reason the crying feels wrong, and that makes her want to cry all the more.)

 Angelic assets, when they're any good at it at all, tend to be very good at crying.

After an interminable time she wakes to find the asset standing over her. Something is Wrong here. She's not sure what, yet. She lets her eyes fall shut again for them moment, exhausted. "Report," she demands, somewhat feebly.

Oh thank the heavens and the Lord and the Prophets and the Light-

Bravo-Three takes a deep, shuddering breath, and wipes at her face, nodding firmly, moving to kneel closer to her handler. It's a bit strange to deliver a report in comforting tones over an anemic superior, but it'll have to do.

"Target-, target lost. Unit was not fit to pursue and instead chose to deliver first aid. I don't know how long it's been. Less- less than an hour. Are you o-" she gulps- "Support should be arriving soon, and. And I have brain damage. I think."

"Do you think you can pursue now?” she asks, absently. There's a twinkling of light in dust that's strangely distracting. Everything feels so dreamlike...

Niki considers that for a second. Is she in fighting fitness? She tries to count verses of Genesis in her head a few times. She goes through half of it in a few seconds, and then tries to count the fingers on her hand. Six or seven. ...That's not right. Eight? No, that's not right either...

"...Not confident, ma'am."

The asset's voice is oddly hollow - what do they mean by brain damage, exactly? She squints. Is their face the right shape?

"We should return to base. It's more important that we get out of here before that thing comes back then pursuing and possibly spending an irreplaceable asset."

Irreplaceable. That makes her feel tingly, but not necessarily in a good way. One side of her mouth quirks up. Her eyes aren't glowing anymore, but there's a tinge in them like a dying ember. It's different. Alive.

"Can- can you move? Ma'am?"

"I can probably stumble. Help me up." It's phrased as an order, but there's the hint of a question, a request. The world feels a little scrambled right now.

She complies, nice and careful, crawling under her handler's shoulder, human crutch. Hopefully blood pressure isn't too much trouble.

Everything is great now! She feels so light!

She sags and passes out seconds later.

Oh no. It turns out angel tears aren't very good at restoring blood volume once the wounds close. There's another trick for that one, and it's not as pretty.

There's no need for a knife or needle. The operation is simple, and an angel's teeth are sharp enough for it. Bite the index finger and offer what flows from it to the patient.

(The blood shines in the dark because it reflects the Light.)

"Sharp teeth! Why do you even need those if you don't eat..."

To hold things in her mouth. To savor them.

"...To help. Please open your mouth."

"You're really weird." She complies though, shutting her eyes.

She does feel a bit weird. There's something tingling that isn't like when she did it in the trainings, or... or before.

It might feel nice, actually. She isn't sure. The blood flows just the same.

Wine has never been so fine, savory and decadent. It makes one crave a bit of bread, too.

It tastes like saffron and woodsmoke and leaves her giddy, the sound of a choir ringing in some sense beyond hearing. There's a bit more color in her cheeks now.

This is usually a little bit more... sober. She feels an odd urge to put her whole finger inside Electra's mouth and suppresses it. Must be the brain damage.

It's holy to share. Don't you want to contribute to a feast? Part with yours and savor-

There's a loud bang and a blinding flash of holy light, an instant of deafening choir and Light that hurts Niki more than it should have, but there's no time to think. Two guardian angels appear at the threshold of the stairs, sans operators, baring their wings, kinetic and coruscant, pointing beams of light around the room. Shock and awe, textbook room clearance. After clearing out each corner of the room, one of the angels approaches the pair.

"Status!"

It's directed at the handler.

They say that in times of crisis, you don't rise to the occasion, you fall to the level of your training. Luckily, her training is very good. She does have a finger in her mouth though, and it takes her a second to back up enough to respond.

"Mission unsuccessful. Target escaped with the aid of an unknown third party. Asset is damaged, requesting assistance returning to infirmary."

The angel turns to Niki, pity on its lips. "Damaged how? Did it spill too much blood? Is it critical?"

She looks down at the ground.