Deja Vu (1)

His eyes. Get his eyes.

Go Ara pistoned out both arms and released a looping tongue of acid from the jar. The Reaper grunted in surprise and spun sideways, shielding his face with his forearm. Acid hissed on his sleeve. Only his sleeve.

She'd missed. Missed his face completely. Done no damage at all.

You fuck-up, Go Ara, she thought in miserable terror. You blew it, blew it, blew it.

She shook the bottle. Nothing left but drops. She threw it at him, a pointless gesture. He knocked it aside with a swing of his arm and lurched forward, the knife shining like teeth.

"Bitch," he gasped.

He advanced on her. She backed up as he closed in. The hard lip of the Formica countertop banged into her spine. She reached behind her, searching the counter for a weapon, the paper cutter maybe, or—

The enlarger.